#keeps you from sleeping at night obviously

[shaiyasstuff]

3:07 a.m. | xavier

synopsis : The call always came at 3:07, not 3:00, not 3:15.

content : bestfriends!au, angst(obviously), non-related to the game events, non-cannon, just purely xavier x reader but in our world :)

writer’s note : okay so this is inspired by a real life experience, so there isn’t much to say here :/ probably why i don’t main xavier in the game but we don’t need to dwell on that

It always started the same way.

You would be done with your day, come back shower and lay in bed. Waiting.

You didn’t need to expect it, didn’t even need to ask.

It would always come, at exactly 3:07 a.m.

Almost never early, never late.

Ring.

And there it is.

The low vibration of your phone against your nightstand, and the soft glow of your screen cutting through the darkness of your room was telling enough.

He had called.

You’d reach for it, mindlessly swiping right to answer. It had become routine at this point, an unspoken one, but a routine no less.

Your fingers know the weight of this moment better than your mind does. And when you answer, he doesn’t say hello.

He never does.

Instead. “I can’t sleep,” you would hear him murmur over the phone.

Neither can you, but you don’t tell him that.

You don’t tell him that you were always waiting, whether on purpose or subconsciously, even you weren’t sure anymore.

“What’s on your mind this time?” Was always your reply, soft, calming.

Sometimes he talks about nothing—half-baked thoughts, the dream he just woke up from, the sound of rain against his window.

Other times, he asks questions he’d never dare voice in daylight.

“Do you think people can just belong to each other?”

“What if I told you I almost kissed you that night?”

“Would you miss me, if I disappeared?”

You would laugh, but you never answered him. And he never asked, or expected you to.

You both just fall into the same routine, neither willing to push further in fear of something unravelling.

Then silence. But it wasn’t quiet, it was loud with millions of unspoken words.

This is your ritual.

Sacred in its smallness.

Just you, him, and the liminal quiet of 3:07 a.m.—a time that belongs to no one else.

You never ask why he calls at that hour.

You never ask why he calls you.

And you never ask what this is, even though you want to.

Because some fragile part of you knows, if you give it a name, you might lose it. Perhaps, he knew it too.

So you stay quiet.

And he keeps calling.

And the nights keep passing like this—gentle and aching and almost enough.

The call stretches on in soft sighs and rustling sheets.

You can hear him shifting, maybe lying on his side now. Maybe curled around a pillow the way he used to curl around the conversations���like they were the only real thing left in his world.

He doesn’t know this, but you’ve memorized the cadence of his breaths.

The soft hitch when he’s about to say something vulnerable.

The exhale when he chooses not to.

“You still there?” he asks, even though he knows you are.

“Always,” you say.

It’s not just an answer. It’s a promise.

One you’ve been making without words, over and over again.

Every time you pick up.

Every time you let him in.

He hums softly, like the sound of your voice is enough to anchor him.

Like you are.

You wonder if he can hear the way your heart tightens when he does that—if he can feel, through the thread of connection between your voices, how much of you he holds in those seconds.

“I saw a fox tonight,” he says out of nowhere. “It ran right across the road, like it didn’t care if it got hit.”

There’s a pause, a silence that tastes like something else.

“I thought about stopping. I didn’t.”

You smile, as if he could see you. “You never stop.”

“Maybe I should.”

You don’t say what you’re thinking.

That maybe he already has.

That maybe this is his version of stopping—these calls, these pieces of himself he gives you when the rest of the world is asleep.

He changes the subject before you can answer, asks you about your day like it matters, like he’s collecting the ordinary parts of your life to keep for himself.

You talk until your voice starts to blur.

Until your eyelids flutter and your words slow into half-dreams.

And then, as always, he says, “Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He never says goodbye.

Just a quiet click. A vanishing voice.

You lie there, eyes tracing the shape of the ceiling in the dark, phone still warm in your hand.

The world outside is still asleep. You try to follow.

But sleep never comes easy after him.

—•

It begins like it always does.

3:07 a.m.

The vibration hums through your nightstand like a ghost tapping its fingers. You don’t even flinch anymore. Your hand finds the phone.

Your voice doesn’t need warming up.

But tonight, he sounds tired.

Not the sleepy kind. The somewhere else kind.

He says your name like he forgot he had permission to.

“Hey,” you breathe.

“Hey,” he echoes, but it lands wrong. Softer. Distant.

You sit up a little in bed, trying to shake off the weight in the air. “Rough night?”

A beat. Then—“No. Just… long.”

You wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.

You’re used to silences with him, but this one presses against your ribs. You shift the phone to your other ear.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He exhales. It’s not quite a sigh. “Not really.”

You nod, though he can’t see it. “Okay.”

There’s the faint sound of a faucet dripping on his end. A distant car. Maybe even a siren. But not him.

Not in the way you’re used to.

You wonder where he is.

Not physically. Emotionally.

He’s in that place he goes sometimes—behind his walls, just out of reach, and you don’t have the map to follow him there.

“Tell me something nice,” he says after a long silence. “Anything.”

You try.

You tell him about a dog you saw with its head out the window, tongue flapping like it didn’t care who was watching.

You tell him about a cloud shaped like a heart that broke apart before you could take a picture.

You tell him about a song you heard that reminded you of him, though you don’t say that part out loud.

He hums, and this time, it doesn’t anchor you.

It leaves you floating.

“Do you think,” he starts, then stops.

“What?”

Another breath. Another almost.

“Do you think we’ll still talk like this… in a year?”

You laugh. It’s the wrong reaction, but you don’t know what else to do. “You’re the one who calls. I just pick up.”

But he doesn’t laugh with you.

He just says, “Yeah. I guess you do.”

And then, quietly—“I hope you sleep well tonight.”

That’s new. He’s never said that before.

“Are you not calling tomorrow?”

He hesitates. Long enough for you to feel it.

“I don’t know.”

The call ends before you can ask anything else.

And that night, for the first time, you fall asleep with your phone pressed to your chest, instead of the pillow beside you.

Like you’re holding on to something you already know you would lose.

The following night you wake up before the call.

3:01 a.m.

You don’t know why.

Maybe your body knows something your mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

Maybe your chest already aches from the absence it hasn’t met.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the minutes ticking forward like a countdown you never asked for.

3:03.

You glance at your phone. It’s still.

Silent.

You tell yourself it’s fine. He’s probably just late.

He’s been late before.

Not often. But still.

You wait.

3:07 a.m.

Nothing.

No buzz.

No glow.

No voice murmuring your name like it’s a secret.

You blink at the time, as if it might change if you look at it long enough.

As if you’re dreaming, and you just haven’t pinched yourself awake yet.

You check your signal.

It’s fine.

You check your battery.

Full.

You check your messages.

Empty.

Still, you wait.

3:12.

3:18.

3:24.

By 3:30, your phone is still clenched in your hand, your knuckles aching, but you refuse to put it down.

Not yet.

Not like this.

You don’t call him.

Because that’s not the way this works.

He calls. You answer.

That’s the rule. That’s the rhythm.

That’s the sacred, fragile thing you’ve built.

You don’t chase.

You’ve never had to.

But tonight, the silence is louder than anything he’s ever said to you. It fills the room. It presses against your skin.

It winds around your throat and settles there.

By 4:01, you set the phone on your chest and lie back down.

You don’t cry. You don’t let yourself.

You just stare at the dark until your eyes burn, and you whisper his name once, like it might summon him.

It doesn’t.

You close your eyes, and wait.

But it would never come, you knew it.

—•

Day One

You check your phone every hour.

Even though you know better.

Even though it wasn’t a promise.

He never said forever.

He never said I’ll keep calling.

But he never had to.

Some things don’t need to be said to be true.

Until they aren’t.

You scroll through your old call logs. His name is there.

The pattern. A history of 3:07s that meant something.

Meant everything.

You find comfort in their symmetry, the little blue check marks that look like loyalty.

You tell yourself he must’ve been tired. Or busy. Or just fell asleep.

Maybe tonight.

You keep the volume on, just in case.

Day Two

You don’t sleep.

You lie in bed, eyes dry and wide, watching your phone like it’s a lifeline.

Like if you stare hard enough, you can will it into ringing.

3:07 a.m. comes and goes.

No vibration.

No voice.

No him.

You keep holding your breath.

All the way until 3:15.

Then 3:22.

Then 3:41.

Then it’s 4 a.m., and your chest hurts from how long you’ve been hoping.

You put the phone under your pillow.

Not because you’re done waiting.

Because the screen feels too cold against your fingers.

Day Five

You almost text him.

You type it out—hey—and then backspace it.

You try again—everything okay?—but it feels too raw, too real, too much like begging.

You stare at the blinking cursor for ten full minutes.

Then you close the app.

But you don’t delete the draft.

Not yet.

Day Eleven

You change your alarm. You stop looking at the clock at night.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter anymore.

You lie to yourself a lot these days.

But your body still wakes up on its own.

3:07 a.m. sharp.

Your eyes open like clockwork, and your hand reaches for the phone before your mind can catch up.

It’s not there.

It never is.

Week Three

You laugh with a friend and feel it crack in your ribs.

You make a playlist and skip every song that reminds you of late night conversations.

You open his name in your contacts, stare at it, and close it again.

You tell yourself you’re fine.

You even say it out loud once.

But your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore.

Month Two

You stop checking.

You stop waking up.

You stop listening for something that isn’t coming back.

But you still dream of him sometimes.

And in the dream, it’s always the same.

A phone ringing.

You answer.

And then you wake up before he says anything.

By month four, you start sleeping through the night. Not always.

But sometimes.

The first time it happens, you wake with a start and check the time in a panic. 6:41 a.m.

You missed it. And for a moment, your heart clenches—like you’ve broken something sacred by not waking at 3:07.

Then you remember. There’s nothing to miss.

You lie back down and it’s the first time in months you fall asleep again without the weight of waiting.

Soon, month six rolls around.

You rearrange your room.

Not for him. For you.

The bed moves by the window. You get new sheets. A softer lamp. You delete your old playlists. You keep one song, though—the one that always made you think of him. Not because you want to, but because you can’t make yourself let go of everything.

You start writing again.

Reading again.

Living again, in bits and pieces.

You don’t tell anyone about the way you used to whisper into the phone in the dark, or how you held your breath between his silences, hoping they’d mean something.

It becomes a memory you keep tucked behind your ribs, like a book you never finished.

Someone new asks for your number in month eight.

You gave it.

You smile when you do it. Not because you’re ready. But because it doesn’t feel like betrayal anymore. Just possibility.

He doesn’t call. You don’t think about it as much.

Except when the night feels too quiet. Or when your phone buzzes and you hope, just for a second, that it’s him.

But the ache isn’t sharp anymore.

It’s dull.

Manageable.

Almost gentle.

Soon, you’d lost count how long it’s been.

You forget his voice.

You realize this in the middle of brushing your teeth. It hits you like a quiet truth—you can remember the words he said, the things you felt, but not the exact shape of his voice.

Not the softness. Not the timbre.

Just the echo of him.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, and try to summon it back.

You can’t.

And somehow, that hurts more than the silence ever did.

Now, almost a year later.

You stopped waking at 3:07.

You don’t remember the last time you did.

Your body has moved on.

Even if your heart is still learning how.

And on the rare night he crosses your mind, it doesn’t hollow you out anymore. It just lingers. Like a song you don’t skip, but don’t put on repeat either.

You survived it.

You’re still surviving it.

—•

It’s late.

But not that late.

You’re up reading something you won’t remember in the morning, bathed in the golden quiet of a lamp you’ve grown fond of. The air hums with a calm you’ve earned. You don’t look at the time anymore.

Not the way you used to.

Your phone is face down on the nightstand.

It doesn’t live in your hand anymore.

You’ve let go of that version of yourself—the one who used to hold it like it meant something.

So when it buzzes, your first instinct isn’t panic. It’s confusion.

You glance at it casually.

And freeze.

3:07 a.m.

Your stomach drops.

You blink once, twice, as if your eyes are playing tricks on you.

But no—it’s real.

His name is on the screen. Glowing like it never left.

Like time never passed.

Your heart stutters.

You don’t pick up.

You just stare.

It keeps ringing. Four times. Five.

You almost let it go to voicemail.

Almost.

But something in you—the part that still remembers the sound of his breath, the way he used to say your name when the world felt too heavy—that part reaches for the phone.

You answer.

Silence.

And then. “Hey.”

You close your eyes.

It’s him.

The voice you forgot.

The voice you mourned.

But now it’s real. Now it’s here.

You don’t say anything. Can’t.

He swallows on the other end, and the line crackles with something like regret.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.”

You still don’t speak. Your mouth is dry. Your chest too full of things you swore you buried.

“I just…” He pauses. “I’m getting married.”

You let out a breath, but it doesn’t sound like one. It sounds like grief cracking open all over again.

“I wanted to tell you myself,” he adds, like it matters. Like it changes anything.

You press your lips together. You taste a year’s worth of silence on your tongue.

“Why now?” you whisper.

“I don’t know.” His voice is soft. “I kept thinking about you. About how I never said goodbye.”

Your eyes burn.

“I would’ve answered,” you say, and it comes out too quiet, too late.

“I know.”

And then—“I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause. Long. Heavy.

You picture him in the dark, phone pressed to his cheek like always, saying things he should’ve said a year ago.

But it’s not a year ago anymore.

It’s now.

And you’ve changed.

“I’m happy for you,” you lie. Or maybe you’re not lying. Maybe you’re just trying to mean it.

He breathes in like he might say something else.

But he doesn’t.

Just a simple, “Goodnight.”

And then, the call ends.

No click. Just absence.

You stare at your phone.

3:13 a.m.

The silence feels different this time.

Not a wound. Not a ritual.

Just… an ending.

—•

You don’t remember saying yes.

Not really.

Somewhere between the call and the invitation, your mouth formed the word like muscle memory.

As if a part of you still wanted to be near him, even if every part of you knew it would hurt.

You almost backed out.

Twice.

Once while buying the dress.

Once in the car, parked just outside the venue, hands gripping the wheel like it could anchor you.

But you’re here now.

And it’s beautiful.

Of course it is.

The kind of beautiful that feels designed to make you ache. Everything is soft and warm and gold-lit, like a dream you’re not supposed to be in. Laughter spills across white tablecloths. Music drifts like smoke. Everyone is dressed in joy.

You keep your hands folded. Keep your face neutral. Keep your heart quiet.

You don’t look for him.

Not at first.

But your eyes find him anyway.

There he is.

In a black suit. Smiling in that effortless way, the way he used to sound at 3:07 when he’d call and say your name like it mattered.

He looks happy.

And it cuts, clean and deep.

He hasn’t seen you yet. You hope he won’t. You don’t want to be a shadow on this day.

But then—he turns.

And his eyes find yours.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for something to flicker there. Recognition. Regret. Or maybe just memory.

He doesn’t look away.

Neither do you.

And then the music swells.

Everyone stands.

She walks in.

She’s stunning. Glowing.

Effortless in a way that makes you feel like a child again, holding something breakable you were never meant to touch.

He turns to face her, and that’s when he looks away.

That’s when your breath catches.

That’s when you realize you’ve been holding something inside you for years, and now it’s slipping through your fingers.

You don’t cry.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t.

You just stand there, watching the man who used to call you in the middle of the night take someone else’s hand.

And you smile.

Not because you’re happy.

But because you’re still here.

Because you made it.

Because loving someone doesn’t always mean staying.

Sometimes it means showing up for their happiness, even when it costs you your own.

And when the vows are said, and the cheers erupt, and the kiss happens like a punctuation mark at the end of an old sentence.

You let it go.

Quietly. Completely.

You don’t stay for the reception.

You slip out before anyone can stop you. Before he can find you. Before you forget how to be okay again.

Outside, the sun is setting. The air smells like lavender and something new.

You don’t look back.

You don’t need to.

Because now, you wouldn’t wait for 3:07 a.m.

[newtkelly]

do you really think they're gonna get back together

yes, i genuinely do, and here are a few reasons why!

every single time buck and tommy have left things unresolved, they have found their way back to each other. narratively, they are back in the same place they’ve been twice before, and for the story to be cohesively resolved, they will need to have a conversation. obviously, there are a lot of storylines on 911 (and most tv shows) that never get any resolution, so i understand why some might have a cynical take or low expectations for this story to be satisfyingly seen through. however, there are a few factors that indicate a romantic reconciliation.

think back on season eight. aside from the gerrard storyline (which had so much potential set up in buzzkill but let’s not go there rn) and the eddie’s house storyline, buck’s entire season eight arc has been about his relationship with tommy. his boyfriend taking care of him, his boyfriend dumping him, the subsequent loneliness, the baking, the hook-up. more than half of his plot has been about tommy. therefore, i think it is realistic to say it will continue to be.

very thankfully, we know that lou has been on set filming action scenes for an upcoming episode(s), and in the same filming location as oliver. they’re filming scenes together, there’s no doubt about that. okay, it could make sense to bring tommy back again to make amends and help buck “move on,” but i think it’s pretty naive to think they investing all of this plot and screen time into a recurring character is simply for buck to learn a lesson and get on with his life, searching for something from scratch again especially this far along into the series. they’re not bringing tommy back repeatedly on a whim or as filler. structurally, they have put in the groundwork for this relationship to have substance and longevity. that’s the more likely reason he would be brought back again and again and again.

by the end of 8x11, buck and tommy are not on very good terms, but by the same token, tommy has done a tremendous service to buck and buck carries no resentment. he finally has the feeling of home in his new house after a lovely night spent together. even though there’s an ease at home, there’s also an unease that is articulated and important. buck still wants to reach out and clear the air. he is extremely self-aware and knows exactly why he lashed out. this, in addition to the very many mentions of tommy in his absence, serves a purpose - to remind the audience that things are unresolved, and to keep that at the back of the collective mind.

i guess tldr is this:

• we know tommy is coming back because lou has been on set

• more than half of buck’s s8 plot has been about tommy - that is a lot of tv time invested towards giving substance to a relationship

• buck saw a side of tommy that hurt him, and yet he still felt like he should reach out and apologize. he is still thinking about him. and he can finally sleep well because of him

[vampiriito]

Pillow talk and the fifth amendment (r.c flashback)

(JJ Maybank x pogue! reader x Rafe Cameron) ..in which you found yourself torn between two worlds when your best friend, JJ Maybank, who you've been in love with since forever starts dating Kiara. In a jealousy haze you start hooking up with Rafe Cameron, the infamous kook prince. Do you manage to keep everything casual and under control? No, is it fun? Also kind of no, given you hate yourself each time you managed to orgasm. And especially since Rafe's favorite activity is to pick on you and your friends outside the bedroom..

Sometimes working made you feel like you were living alone and just keeping yourself afloat. At times you liked to pretend you were a young adult working while she went to a college in New York, away from all the bullshit on the island. But you weren't. More than half of your paychecks went to your mom directly for "bills and food." Judging by how sometimes you didn't even have electricity, internet or hot water, you could only guess the money that your mom took from you went to something completely different than food and bills. She didn't even try to hide it, the fridge being mostly empty on the days her boyfriend wasn't over. She managed to eat god knows where and you were left doing the same.

Still, you were trying to save up for when you managed to graduate high school, which seemed almost undoable some days. The thought of finally leaving the island and living alone, living on a minimum wage paycheck didn't seem as bad to you, as it seemed to some people. As long as you managed to take a way out, you didn't mind where and what you ended up doing. Of course, sometimes it felt like island had its own way of keeping you anchored on its land. Your mom was a perfect example of that. No matter how much she tried, she ended up with a kid, living from day to day in a trailer park. Still on this stupid island she so desperately wanted to leave. Which scared the living shit out of you when you thought about on particular nights, the vodka or beer hitting you differently.

You polished the pint in your hand almost mindlessly, eyes fixed on the glass for any stains even though your mind was obviously elsewhere. At times like these you hated putting on the stupid club uniform and going to work to interact with the wealthy kooks who were looking to get day-drunk and talk shit about each other while dressed in expensive sundresses and colorful polos. Especially since you'd see most of them at parties snorting pounds of blow like it was a talent, coming to the country club and pretending like everything was fine. Pretending like they weren't rotten underneath the pastel colors of their designer threads and sparkling jewelry.

Which Rafe didn't really liked to partake in. Sure he dressed in high end clothes and wore rings that cost more than your monthly paycheck but he wasn't embarrassed to let the people around him know how rotten and unstable he actually was. His father's wealth managed to soften the blow and the looks he'd get, most people masking their distaste for him behind perfectly manicured respect. But some people his age still liked to whisper among themselves and once he turned away, the façade of respect fell. And he always felt the weight of it shattering behind his back.

Reason why he liked you in the first place. You didn't care about his wealth, or the coke he sold. You didn't even bother to put your customer service voice when you served him. You disliked him because he was simply Rafe, and that was more attractive than he liked to admit. With your recent interactions, his fascination with you continued to grow, despite the fact that you were in fact right.. He didn't really know you. Not that he didn't try. But he was okay with sleeping with you without knowing you fully, or without you being in love with him. He just didn't like that you were in love with the blonde, annoying and loud pogue. JJ Maybank.

It was a pretty slow day in the country club, which he should've been glad of, except that made it hard for him to keep himself entertained. And he was bored out of his mind, which was never a good sign, a sign that he could get into trouble, which he loved to do when he was bored. It was something to do, something to take his mind off the never-ending mess his life was. He sat on one of the high tables, a half empty glass of some bourbon clutched in his hand, listening to his friends ramble about the most recent party they went to.

His eyes were lazily wandering around the room, taking in the decor and the few people roaming around, his gaze stopping on the bar, catching your form working behind the counter. His fingers drummed on the glass in his hand as his gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than it should have, thoughts wandering in a very familiar direction.

His eyes trailed down your body, taking in how the blue buttoned down shirt of the uniform hugged you, the top few buttons undone, giving him an enticing view if he stood a little closer before raising his gaze back up. His thoughts were interrupted as one of his friends noticed the look on his face, "You staring at one of the waitresses again?" the boy nudged him, an amused smirk on his face.

"You know, you shouldn't get too involved with the help.. Might catch something.." interjected one of the boys sitting at table before Rafe could respond to Topper's comment.

Rafe rolled his eyes, shaking his head, his gaze still locked on you but now with a tight jaw. He was getting annoyed already. "Please, I highly doubt any of the waitresses here are stupid, or desperate enough to risk getting mixed up with someone like me." It was mostly the truth. Sure some girls were desperate for money but you weren't stupid. He could see it in your eyes in every brief look you threw him from the bar.

Topper chimed in again, letting out an annoying little laugh that made Rafe want to punch him right there at the table. "Why not? You're rich. You could offer one of those girls a couple hundred dollars and they would be yours, man."

He ignored him this time, his gaze still on you behind the bar where you were getting something from the other side of the bar. His heart pounded in his chest just looking at you, but at the same time, he was pissed. Not at you of course, but at the fact that his friends were getting on his damn nerves, but more so at the thought of you being with any of them instead of him. Especially when Topper's idiotic, suggestive tone and words left an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, taking a gulp of bourbon, the liquid burning in his throat as he swallowed. He almost wanted to get up and go somewhere else to sit and drink, but Topper's voice stopped him before he could. "Don't tell me you like one of the waitresses. That ain't smart, man. They're mostly trailer trash. They ain't your type." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, almost amused by the idea.

"Hold on.. ain't that the chick he took home from your party last week?" asked Kelce with a curious gaze. He shifted between looking at you behind the bar a few good feet away and at Rafe sitting in front of him, his face growing more amused.

Rafe almost cursed at him, taking another gulp of his bourbon, his ears going red as Topper turned to look at Kelce in surprise. He hated that they noticed you and even more so, that they noticed he took you home. He felt a protective, territorial feeling building in the pit if his stomach at the thought of them possibly looking at you, so he shut his mouth instead of protesting.

What caught Rafe's attention though was one of the guy's lingering gaze on you. Jack, some dude from the mainland who was hanging out with him at the time due to his family ties with Topper, pissed him off mildly. Rafe didn't know what it was about the guy, his face looked like he asked to get punched. He didn't act on it, of course. He didn't really do anything to personally offend Rafe in the few days he hung around them. The brunette was eyeing you with a subtle sense of recognition, as if he'd seen you before, even though you had never interacted before. Or so he thought, anyway.

Topper was still giving Rafe a look, his smirk growing even more amused as he picked up the tumbler of his bourbon to throw it back. "Is that one? The girl you took home?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the disbelief from his tone. They all knew how Rafe usually was. He didn't do hook-ups with just anyone, and you were no exception, at least in his eyes.

He clenched his jaw a little bit, keeping his cool as best as he could, as all his friends eyes settled on him questioningly. "So what if I did?" he asked back, feigning nonchalance, as if it was nothing. Like he wasn't burning up with anger as they talked about you in front them, like you weren't right there, just a few feet away from them. The sound of alcohol in their glasses as they took another sip was the only sound in the room for a few moments, before Topper spoke.

Topper scoffed, rolling his eyes at Rafe's reaction. "Not like you to take a girl like her home.. thought you'd be banging some Kook trust fund chick. Not one of the help."

Rafe knew that was the truth. He had a certain reputation for only going after the rich girls here, but he found himself wanting something different for once. You were different, in almost every way, and he liked it. But there was no way he would admit this to his friends, so he just shrugged nonchalantly, taking another gulp of his drink.

The other guys at the table all shared a look as Rafe shrugged, a few of them letting out laughs at his nonchalant demeanor. Topper though, was not falling for it. "You really took one of the workers home? Aren't you worried you'll catch something? You might wanna get your junk checked out, dude." He said jokingly, his eyes still fixed on Rafe's face.

Rafe's hands closed tightly around the glass in his hand at the comment, his entire body tense. He was getting angry again, the thought of you being the topic of conversation making his blood boil and the thought of this idiot assuming you're some kind of disease-ridden slut was making him see red. Before he could even respond, Kelce, sensing the shift in atmosphere and the growing tension among them, spoke up, trying to diffuse the situation.

He could feel Kelce eyeing him warily while Jack still kept his gaze glued to you, his face a picture of subtle interest. Rafe was seething inside, trying to control his temper as Kelce's words cut through the awkward silence, "Hey, let's not talk about the help.. just a bunch of trailer trash anyway."

"Trash.. but good for a quickie, am I right?" Topper said with a smirk, the guy's all laughing at his comment as he looked up to catch you glancing their way for a split second. The guys, besides Kelce, were all amused by the sight of you working behind the bar and you being the topic of their conversation.

Rafe's fingers were gripping the glass so hard it seemed like it would crack at any second, his entire expression neutral as he watched all the guys laugh at that. It took all he had to not pounce across that table and slam his fist right into Topper's face. Instead, he sat there with gritted teeth, his jaw clenched so tight it might snap. Because he had no reason to want to defend you. Hell, by now he should be joining in on the teasing. Especially since you were kind of a bitch to him when sober.

"She ain't bad looking though. Kind of hot." Jack said, his eyes still trained on you, which was really getting on Rafe's nerves as he spoke. "Yeah, maybe if you're into trailer trash." Topper added, and before Rafe could shut him up, Kelce intervened again.

Rafe's jaw was so clenched now, you could hear his teeth grind from across the room. "Don't be an ass, just leave it." Kelce said to Topper, giving him a look. Kelce seemed to have some decency at least, even though he probably agreed with Topper.

Topper shrugged, dismissing Kelce and the look he gave him. "Just sayin' the obvious." he retorted, leaning back in his chair. "You can't deny it. You'd let her ride you like a rodeo." he added, grinning at the others in the table, who let out snorts of agreement. "Nah, I don't mess with that type." Kelce spoke up, sipping his drink, his eyes roaming around the club as he spoke.

Topper's comment made Rafe amused for some reason. Not because Topper was a comical genius, but because unknown to them he actually let you do just that 2 out of the 3 times you slept together, memories flooding into his brain briefly. He remembered you cutting up his favorite belt with your switchblade the first night and he most definitely remembered the time a few days ago when he took you home after getting spiked and you ended up sleeping with him again. Which you didn't seem to really mind, given you weren't chewing him out for it. Maybe you actually liked it.

Rafe found himself getting lost in his own thoughts again, drowning out the conversation the guys were having as his mind wandered. He was getting irritated once more as he caught Jacks lingering gaze on you, and to his dismay, you were returning the eye contact. It was probably just you looking around, but he didn't know that. The sight of you meeting eyes with anyone other than him made his possessive thoughts run rampant.

Topper noticed Rafe's gaze, the way his eyes were glued on you as you worked silently behind the bar. He followed his gaze, chuckling upon noticing the expression on your face as you peered through the crowd, locking eyes with no one other than Jack. He could tell Rafe was fuming, despite the blank expression on his face, and decided to speak up again, clearly amused, "She's looking your way. Maybe she likes you better."

Rafe's eyes snapped back to Topper just in time to see his smug look, and he bit his tongue to hold back the snarky response on his tongue. He knew Jack was pretty damn attractive. Of course he saw how girls were throwing themselves at him, even though he looked like the type to try and roofie you. But he didn't care if you noticed him, his eyes darting across the room and catching the way you were still looking in their direction. Which bothered him for a reason he couldn't comprehend.

Jack seemed to catch your line of sight, a smirk forming on his face before his eyes lingered on you some more. Rafe could feel his blood boiling at that stupid look on the guy's face, his fingers clenching into a fist. Topper noticed Rafe's reaction, grinning at the sight of him trying to hold back from jumping out of his seat. "She's still looking at you man.. you gonna go talk to her or what?" he said to Jack, still determined to piss Rafe off.

Just as Rafe was about to finally snap at them, Jack was already pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. He looked a bit cocky at the opportunity, clearly up for the challenge of getting a girl. "Yeah, I think I might." He said before heading over, his gaze still on you.

At this point, Rafe had completely tuned out the others, who were amused at the sight before them. His gaze was fixed on you and the guy making his way over towards you, making his way to the very bar you were standing behind. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. Jack stopped right in front of the bar, a charming and cocky smile on his face that made Rafe even more furious.

You, who was still working behind the bar, could see Rafe's table from far away, and you noticed the guy making his way over to the bar. That, and of course you noticed Rafe sitting in one of the high chairs. That was a new habit he had formed. Coming to the club every other day and just sitting at one of the tables, watching you work. And you'd be a liar if you had said it didn't make you feel uneasy and a little hot at the same time.

You weren't exactly thrilled at the sight of the mildly familiar yet strange guy approaching your bar with a determined look plastered on his face. You continued to polish the glasses you just washed, shifting your gaze down in hopes he was just coming over to order a drink or get a refill.

Jack stopped in front of the bar, taking a quick perusal of your figure in the tight fitting country club uniform. His gaze lingered, taking in every detail, from your name tag to the buttons of your shirt. It left him impressed with how pretty you were, and his lips curled upwards as he noticed you looking down at the glasses instead of at him.

He waited a few seconds for you to acknowledge him and look up, but you just continued your busy work, obviously pretending your weren't noticing his presence. He cleared his throat and leaned forward on the bar, "Excuse me."

You hummed, finally raising your gaze up from the last glass you were polishing, plastering a fake polite smile on your face to indicate you acknowledged him.

He leaned a little more forward, looking at you through hooded eyes, his gaze roaming over your face like he was studying you. He was shamelessly scanning your body, letting his gaze roam over the curves of your chest and the buttons that ran down the middle of your shirt, before letting his eyes meet yours again. "Can I order something strong?" he asked, his voice quiet.

You suppressed the urge to grimace at him, reaching up to adjust your glasses nodding. "If you're looking to get day-drunk, maybe.. What's it gonna be?" you asked, still trying to mask the hint of unease at getting checked out so blatantly.

He thought for a second, a subtle smirk forming on his face as he watched you. He knew he made you uneasy, and that only spurred him on. He kept his gaze locked on you as he spoke, "Whiskey neat. Thanks." His eyes flicked between yours, studying your expression and the slight frown on your face.

You nodded, turning around to grab a rocks glass and pour a shot of Bourbon in the short tumbler. Your movements were quick and swift, going thru the motions of serving the simple drink before sliding the glass on the counter to him. Your eyes flitted towards Jack's table, catching Rafe's eyes for a split second before looking at the man you were serving. "You got a tab open?" you asked unenthused, smiling politely once again.

Jack took the glass from you, noticing the brief moment where you looked over at Rafe's table. His gaze flicked back to you and he took in the fake, polite smile you gave him. He was amused, taking a small sip from the glass before answering your question, "No. Just pay now."

"That will be 30 bucks.." you stated, looking down at his glass.

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. $30 was a lot for a single shot, but he was used to prices like that. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out a crisp fifty dollar bill. He slid it over to you, "Keep the change." he said nonchalantly, taking another sip of his drink as his gaze flickered over your figure again.

You raised one brow subtly as he handed you a fifty dollar bill, urging you to keep the 20 as a tip. These rich, snobby kids could really just go around and pay 30$ for a drink and leave a 20 dollar bill as a tip. Incredible. "How nice.." you mused under your breath, stashing the 50 in the register and taking the 20 bill to hand it back to him with the receipt. Basically flat out refusing his tip.

You raised one brow subtly as he handed you a fifty dollar bill, urging you to keep the 20 as a tip. These rich, snobby kids could really just go around and pay 30$ for a drink and leave a 20 dollar bill as a tip. Incredible. "How nice.." you mused under your breath, stashing the 50 in the register and taking the 20 bill to hand it back to him with the receipt. Basically flat out refusing his tip.

Jack couldn't help but scoff at your reaction. He was well used to people bowing to him and jumping at the opportunity of tips, but you weren't giving him that. He was used to people being overly nice and polite to him, not giving him bitchy attitude. He smirked back at you, his gaze narrowing as he leaned back on the bar, his gaze roaming your form again. "I told you to keep the change." he repeated slowly.

"I was making sure i heard you correctly.." you chuckled dryly, pocketing the tipped bill in the pocket of your apron. You moved back to washing and polishing the remainder of the glasses, fully expecting him to just get up and leave from the bar nor that the interaction was done.

Instead of doing what you had expected, he stayed where he was, leaning forward on the bar and watching you with a smirk as you continued polishing the glasses. He sipped on the Bourbon he had ordered, observing your movements with a curious gaze. You were pretty, of course he noticed. But he just couldn't understand why you wouldn't be bowing down to him like the rest of the girls here.

You looked back up at him and then at the table he came from once again. Topper was watching his cousin and you intently with a shit eating grin, not trying to hide that he was staring along with Kelce. Rafe was just.. sitting there, trying to resist the urge to look over his shoulder at the scene of Jack trying to chat you up. "Do you.. need something else?" you asked awkwardly, raising one brow.

Jack's gaze flickered back to yours, and he leaned even closer across the bar, his smirk widening as he noticed your hesitancy and your obvious efforts of trying to get rid of him. He chuckled as you asked if he needed anything else, clearly amused.

He watched how you briefly stole a glance over at Rafe's table, noticing Topper's smirk and Kelce looking in your direction as well. Jacks gaze hardened just a bit as he spoke up, "No.. don't think so."

"Thought the country club boys didn't really like to chat it up with... the help." you spoke evenly, customer service voice still standing strong against your disinterest in the guy sitting in front of you.

Jack's smirk grew even bigger. He was amused by your boldness, but he also found your attitude kind of intriguing, if not a little bit aggravating. He took another sip of his drink, his gaze still roaming over you, taking in every feature on your face. "Depends on the help." he replied bluntly, eyeing you with a sly smile.

You raised your brows, shaking your head gently to yourself. The guy was trying. You were wondering if Rafe sent him over to entertain his little group of clowns. Certainly their friend trying to hit on you might amuse him. "Smooth.." you smirked cynically, looking back down at the champagne glass you were lazily polishing.

Jack let out a small laugh, amused at how you were reacting to him. He was used to women melting at the sight of him, and here you were, acting like he wasn't the finest man you've ever seen. It was intriguing and frustrating at the same time. He leaned in slightly, his gaze not faltering from your face, "You're fun. A little disrespectful, but fun." he mused under his breath, chuckling softly.

Disrespectful? Wow, that was a new one. "Do you.. wanna file a formal complaint?" you muttered teasingly, not raising your gaze to glance at him, chuckling quietly.

He was amused, his smirk widening as you teased him. He took a moment to reply, taking another sip of his drink, "I'll pass. This is more fun." He chuckled softly, his gaze drifting over your face, "You usually act like this to all your lovely customers?"

"Not usually, no.." you spoke flatly and shook your head. "I usually save this attitude for the Cameron boy at your table.. Seems like he didn't wanna verbally abuse each other today and sent you to torture me.." you added, nodding vaguely towards Rafe sitting at his table with Topper and Kelce.

Jack hummed, following your gaze to the table of boys sitting in the corner. His eyebrows rose at your comment, the smirk still plastered on his face, "You know him? The guy who's sitting over there?" He asked bluntly.

You smirked genuinely for the first time Jack ordered his drink, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you studied the glass in your gloved hands with an amused look. Oh, how did you know Rafe.. "You could say that, yeah.." you responded, grinning once you locked eyes with Jack.

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, something about the look on your face, the way you looked the way you smiled whenever you looked over at their table... He felt something. But he was more intrigued by the fact that you knew Rafe. He shifted forward a bit on the barstool, leaning in slightly, "You guys good friends or something?"

You grimaced slightly at the word 'friends'. You and Rafe, friends... What a joke. Maybe with benefits if it came to giving a label to whatever it was that you were doing with one another. Although you weren't friends. Maybe enemies with benefits seeing as you didn't really like Rafe outside the fact that he was good in bed. "No.. Not exactly." you shrugged, your answers continuing to be small and cryptic.

Jack's eyebrows raised, a curious gleam in his eyes as he heard your answer. The fact that you knew Rafe obviously peaked his interest and he was quick to pick up on the fact that you were intentionally leaving something out. "Then what are you?" he asked bluntly, a smirk playing on his lips as he waited for your answer.

"Trailer park trash..? In his words.." you chuckled heartily, sparing Rafe another glance. "We don't really get along that much.." you added quietly, leaning in slightly.

Jack huffed, a smirk still lingering on his face as he took another gulp form his glass. He was amused, that's why he was prolonging this conversation. You were easy on the eyes, feisty and bold, it intrigued him. "He seems like a dick." he stated flatly, his eyes flickering towards Rafe for a second before landing on you again.

Your brows furrowed in confused amusement at his statement, "Aren't you his friend?" you asked, studying his face intently.

Jack scoffed at your question, taking another sip of his drink and setting the glass down on the counter. "Never said I was his friend." he answered bluntly.

You looked over to Rafe once again, your amused expression falling as you turned back to Jack, "You're not from the island, right?" you asked almost cautiously, chewing the inside of your cheek.

Jack's smirk grew a bit at your question, raising his eyebrows at your cautiousness. He shook his head, "No. What gave it away?" he chuckled softly, his gaze not breaking away from your face.

The way he acted, first of all. Especially in relation to Rafe. Any guy in their right mind, who hung out around THE Rafe Cameron, would scramble to claim that they were friends. Every kook on the island wanted to be associated with the Camerons. But not this guy, he acted like a tourist, but with extra steps. Maybe a cousin of either Topper or Kelce. Definitely not Kelce.. "Just the way you act.." you shrugged, your words casual as you looked down at your gloved hands.

Jack hummed under his breath, amused at the way you observed him so closely, trying to figure him out. He watched you with interest, leaning back against the barstool, "And how do I act?" he asked bluntly, a sly smirk on his lips.

"Like a touron with extra steps.." you whispered mockingly, eyes narrowed in condescension.

Jack chuckled at your dig, amused by your attempt to provoke him. He leaned in closer, his smirk growing wider, "Touron.. Haven't heard that one before." he said with a scoff, raising his eyebrows jokingly in a mockery of shock. His eyes were fixed intensely one yours before they flickered down to your chest area, his gaze lingering on the buttons of your shirt.

"It's an Outer Banks thing.. Just like 'Kook' and 'Pogue'.." you rolled your eyes with a smile, pleased that you had the upper hand in the conversation and he didn't since he wasn't from around here.

Jack rolled his eyes in return, chuckling under his breath before leaning in even closer, his gaze flickering down to your chest again as he spoke in a hushed tone, "From your smile i have a feeling you're hiding small insults behind your words, ones I'm not capable of hearing..."

You rolled your eyes once again, this time in subtle annoyance rather than amusement "Calm down outsider, I'm not insulting you.." you muttered, scoffing.

Jack smirked in response, amused by the annoyed look on your face, "You sure seem like you want to-" he retorted, his gaze sliding over your body once more, "..but I'll give you a pass, just cause you're pretty."

You pretended to be flattered by his words, gasping in mock gratefulness. "Whatever would i have done if i wasn't saved by my pretty privilege.." you spoke mockingly, placing a hand over your heart sardonically.

Jack scoffed at your comment, his smirk growing even wider. He leaned in closer, his gaze flickering down to your chest once again before returning to your face, "Oh, I'm sure you know exactly how to take advantage of it."

Your eyes narrowed as you noticed his gaze drift down to your chest once again, for the millionth time since the conversation started. Men. "My tits are not gonna change shape or color if you continue to glance at them.." you sighed in annoyance, not even bothering to stop the sarcasm and irritation from rolling out of your words.

Jack's smirk turned coy, his gaze returning to your eyes after he was caught in the act. He chuckled under his breath, amused by your direct call-out, "I'm curious now, what are they like-" he muttered teasingly, his eyes flickering from your face down to your chest and back again, raising his eyebrows in mock sincerity.

"Maybe you can ask your buddy Rafe, then.. I'm sure he knows what they're like.." you trailed off cryptically, sparing another glance towards the table of Kooks.

Jack's cocky expression faltered for a second, replaced with something resembling annoyance and curiosity. He shifted on the barstool, crossing his arms over his chest, "And why would he know that?" he asked bluntly, his gaze flicking towards the table where Rafe was sitting before returning to you.

"Why do you think?" you asked, raising your brows knowingly, reaching up to adjust your glasses.

Jack huffed, his lips pressed in a tight line. He hated that he couldn't get a proper answer out of you, it was irritating. "That's not an answer.." he grumbled underneath his breath, eyeing you with narrowed eyebrows.

You scoffed as you distracted yourself by putting away some of the glasses you polished. This guy was starting to really annoy you. "My job application didn't entail me giving you answers about who gets to see my tits or not.." you muttered.

Jack chuckled in response, amused by your snarkiness. He leaned back slightly, taking a long sip from his drink as he studied your face, "No, but your job application definitely involves being polite and courteous to guests.." he retorted, grinning slyly.

"Yeah, when they're keeping their eyes on appropriate parts of my body.. Like my face for example.." you narrowed your eyes, slipping off the rubber gloves to button up the top 3 buttons on your light blue uniform shirt.

Jacks eyes widened in surprise at your action, his gaze dropping down to follow your fingers as they buttoned up your shirt, his expression a mix of annoyance and intrigue. He bit down on his lip for a second, before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, "You're no fun.."

You sighed, adjusting your glasses unenthusiastically "I've been called worse.." you stated, fixing him with your gaze.

He couldn't help but chuckle in response, his smirk growing wider as he took in your expression. He leaned a bit closer, his gaze wandering over you before meeting your eyes again, "I can't tell if you love or hate me right now.." he said bluntly.

You raised on brow, scoffing in mock disbelief "Those are the only options i get?" you asked, pretending to be disappointed. "Maybe i feel a third, secret thing towards you.."

Jack's smirk widened into a grin despite his best efforts to contain it, intrigued by your response. He leaned in closer, his gaze locked on yours, "Oh yeah.. What's the third thing?" he asked curiously, fully invested in your answer now.

You tapped your chin, pretending to think over your answer "Definitely not something as strong as 'love' or 'hate'... Maybe disgust or even annoyance. Or perhaps boredom.." you stated in a sickly sweet tone, despite the sarcasm in your words.

Jack chuckled at your response, his gaze never faltering from your face. His smirk faltered for a moment, his expression hardening slightly but his amusement prevailed, "Ouch, that stung." He said in a mock pained tone before continuing, "I can live with 'annoyance', though."

You pinched the bridge of your nose, growing more and more annoyed as the conversation stretched. You were definitely starting to appreciate the fact that despite being annoying, Rafe was definitely more charming with the banter and the attempts to irritate you. Maybe sleeping with him before contributed to that. "Is this what you country-club freaks do for fun?" you asked, letting out another sigh "Just.. bother the workers? Or is this your attempt at hitting on me and not succeeding?"

Jack huffed, his expression darkening slightly. Despite his cocky facade, he was evidently getting irritated at your comments, "This isn't an attempt for anything.. I'm just trying to chat.. And you're not making it easy." he responded, his gaze fixed on yours.

"I get like.. 30 of you "trying" to chat me up during my shift. While also ordering the same fucking thing as you did.." you pointed to his almost finished glass of Bourbon. "In the middle of the day too.. Whiskey neat to get day-drunk, isn't as unique as you like to think.."

Jack rolled his eyes in response, raising an eyebrow. He let out an amused scoff, taking a final gulp from his glass and setting it back on the counter. He leaned in closer, his gaze meeting yours, "Maybe if you weren't so damn annoying to chat with, you would get asked out more..."

You plastered another fake and polite smile on your face, obviously not deterred by his not so subtle jab at you being hard to talk to. "Guys ask me out.. I just don't go.." you muttered, your smile widening.

Jack's expression darkened slightly, his gaze narrowing as he studied you, "Now that is surprising.. You have the kind of face that guys should be dropping on their knees for.." He leaned back on his stool, his smirk growing slightly, "But that mouth.."

He trailed off, his eyes flickering down to your mouth. He let out a scoff, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, "I can see why they stop after one try.."

You grimaced in pure annoyance now, going back to putting away the remainder of the polished glasses. "Maybe you should follow along, then.."

Jack chuckled, amused by your annoyance. He leaned forward, his arms resting on the bar, "I'm not the kind of guy who takes no for an answer so easily, darling."

You scoffed as if he had confirmed something by saying that, shaking your head to yourself "Trust me, you act the part.." you muttered breathlessly.

Jack's expression grew curious, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, "What part am I acting?" He asked, his gaze locking on yours. He couldn't tell if your words were a compliment or a jab at him.

"The part where you clearly can't tell when someone is not interested.." you responded bluntly.

Jack rolled his eyes in response, leaning back on the barstool once again. He let out a scoff, his gaze narrowing as he studied you, "You say you're not interested but you're the one who keeps the conversation going.." he retorted, his tone growing annoyed.

You turned back to face him, sighing loudly, obviously fed up with his shit. "Okay fine.. I'm ending the conversation and politely asking you to leave the bar."

Jack's gaze hardened at your demand, his irritation clear on his face. He clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering with annoyance before he sighed and stood up from the barstool, grabbing his wallet and tossing another 20 dollar tip on the counter.

He adjusted his shirt, his expression still annoyed but more passive now. "You're fun.. Sometimes.." he muttered, his gaze flickering from your face to your chest for the last time before turning away and heading back towards his friends at their table, throwing you one last look over his shoulder.

You watched as he made his way back to Rafe's table, Topper instantly brightening up as Jack approached the table. You glanced back down at the second 20 dollar tip, smiling to yourself. You just made 40 bucks by simply rejecting an annoying kook's advances. The country-club job continued to surprise you.

Rafe had been watching the interaction from the table the entire time, his gaze fixated on you and Jack. He was watching with irritation and jealousy, his expression hardening as he noticed how close the guy got to you. He couldn't hear what you two were saying, but he sure could see how close the guy's face got to yours as he leaned on the bar.

Topper let out a whoop as Jack sat back down, slapping his back in a half-hearted attempt to cheer him up for his failed attempt at hitting on you. He smirked, "Not so successful, huh?" he asked, glancing over towards the bar in amusement.

Jack leaned back against the chair, trying to maintain his composure after the less than successful conversation. He huffed, annoyance evident on his face, "I don't get it, man.. I had her going for a bit, she was even playing along.. Then out of nowhere she just shut me down.”

Topper shook his head, amused by his cousin's frustration, "Yeah, that's usually how it goes when you try to have a civil conversation with a Pogue girl.." he responded with a shrug, grabbing his almost depleted beer and downing it in one large gulp.

Rafe had been listening with a mix of amusement and satisfaction, sipping on his beer quietly. He couldn't help but feel amused by how his friend failed to sweep you off your feet and annoyed that you were even giving him the time of day. He stayed silent, trying to keep his own jealousy and irritation in check.

Jack let out a loud sigh, still annoyed and irritated with how the interaction ended. He leaned forward, his eyes flickering over to the bar, "She's a piece of work, that one.." he muttered, still staring at you. Topper chuckled, taking another gulp of his beer, "Yeah.. But she's fine.. Wouldn't mind getting a piece of that myself.." he joked, earning a scoff from Jack.

Rafe's grip on his beer tightened involuntarily, his jaw clenching as he overheard their comments. He knew how men talked about women all the time. But for some reason, hearing them talk about you rubbed him the wrong way. He took another gulp of his beer, trying to mask his irritation.

Of course Rafe had no claim over you. It wasn't like the two of you were dating. You slept together three times and that was it. He was more than sure that if he walked over to the bar right now, you'd give him the same attitude you gave Jack, maybe worse. So his irritation and jealousy were completely unwarranted since you were a piece of work and an absolute menace to have around. And Rafe was well aware of the fact that you were in love with your annoying pogue best friend. God, if he thought he couldn't dislike the loud and reckless pogue more, he was wrong. You were sleeping with him whenever you got wasted to try and get another guy (who had a girl) out of your system and here he was, getting jealous over you. How pathetic.

Rafe took another long sip of his beer, trying to keep his gaze from wandering to the bar where you were. He was used to keeping his feelings in check (sometimes) but for some reason, hearing you reject other guys made his heart flutter a little. He bit down on his bottom lip, shaking his head at his own idiotic emotions. He looked away, trying to distract himself with conversations around him.

Jack was still rambling about his failed attempt at talking to you, still irritated and disappointed. He didn't handle failure well, never did. "Goddamn it, how hard can it be to chat up a girl..?" he muttered angrily under his breath. Topper chuckled, shaking his head "With Pogues.. Pretty damn hard..." He added with a scoff, taking another gulp of his beer. Rafe couldn't help but chuckle, his mood lightening a little.

Jack huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, "But she was flirting with me for a bit, though.." He said in irritation, his gaze flicking over back to you. Rafe followed his gaze, his own gaze flicking over to you once again. "I guess she doesn't like that pretty face of yours after all.. Or the fancy clothes.. Or the money.." He commented sarcastically, his eyes taking in your outfit and the way you carried yourself, his gaze falling down to the necklace peeking out from the collar of your shirt. The same cheap necklace he had dangling in his face when you rode him..

Jack scowled at the insult, his expression hardening once again, "It's not like you're doing any better... When was the last time you even got laid?.." Topper snickered at that comment, amused by the jab.

Rafe hummed as if he was thinking over the comment, poking the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. In reality he was just revisiting the last time he had slept with you like a couple of days ago, the memories flooding his brain pleasantly. "Two days ago.. more or less.." he mumbled casually, smirking slightly at Jack.

Jack rolled his eyes, annoyed at how confident and smug Rafe seemed. Despite his irritation, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise, "Two days ago.. with who exactly...?" He asked, his interest piqued. Topper leaned in, now intrigued at the possibility of gossip.

Rafe took a casual sip of his drink, his smirk growing slightly. "Doesn't matter.. Point is, I got some recently. While your sorry ass is here whining like a little kid about a Pogue girl turning you down..." He replied, his tone condescending.

Jack scoffed, his annoyance growing even more. He knew they were both just trying to get a rise out of each other, but it was working. "Well.. I still have a better chance with her than you do.." He retorted, his gaze flickering over to you again.

Rafe stifled a scoff, almost choking on his beer at the ridiculous statement. He couldn't help but be amused and annoyed at the same time. "Oh really.. And how did that go for you? I just watched her reject you from across the room and make you look like a total dick..".

Jack clenched his jaw, refusing to be embarrassed by his failure. He was Jack Maynard, he always got what he wanted. "I was getting close... she was interested.." he snapped back, trying to defend himself.

Rafe chuckled derisively, rolling his eyes at Jack's arrogance. "Oh yeah, real interested in your annoying ass.." he snarked back, taking a long swig from his beer. This was especially funny to Rafe knowing he scored before with you. Knowing that unlike the guy sitting in front of him, complaining about how you shut him down, he had a bigger chance of scoring again with you than this guy ever did. And that just lightened his sour mood, even if it was just a hint lighter.

Jack gritted his teeth, his irritation growing with each passing second. He couldn't stand the cocky confidence coming from Rafe. "Oh yeah.. How do you know so much about what she's interested in.. Just cuz she let you take her home once doesn't make you an expert.."

Rafe scoffed, not being able to stop his cocky smirk from growing. He leaned back against his chair, his gaze meeting Jacks, a challenge in his eyes. "Well I'm not the one who just got rejected, am I?" he replied smugly, before adding "And don't forget.. once is more than your zero times..".

Jack clenched his jaw tightly, his hands curling into fists. He was getting tired of the cocky smirk plastered on Rafe's face, the way he was so smug and condescending. "At least I tried, man. Unlike you.." he shot back with a scoff, trying to hide his annoyance. Topper watched the back and forth in between his cousin and friend with increasing amusement.

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head at the obvious attempt to undermine him. "Oh, I tried alright.. multiple times, actually.." he responded with a cocky smirk, taking another sip of his beer and ignoring the curious look Topper was sending his way.

Jack huffed in annoyance, his irritations growing every second. "Yeah, and how's that working out for you? Got rejected a bunch, did you?" he replied sarcastically, his gaze flickering over to you for yet another time.

Rafe didn't bother looking in your direction, he knew you were busy with the job. Instead, he let out an amused scoff at Jacks response. "Not me, no.. Some people actually know how to handle a girl.. and it's a lot more complicated than just trying to talk it out like you did." He replied, leaning back on his chair nonchalantly, taking a long swig from his beer. Topper looked back and forth between them, growing curious by the second.

Jack felt like his patience was running thin at this point and he was ready to flip the table over, only barely managing to control himself from doing so. "Oh, yeah?.. And what exactly is your approach, then? Huh? You're just gonna strut over there and flash your money at her until she thinks you're interesting?" he retorted with an annoyed scoff.

Rafe laughed at the childish and irrational response, his smirk growing wider as he watched Jack get more and more irritated. "No, man.. That's more your style.. You'd just flash your Rolex and your dad's credit card and think that'll do the trick.." he replied, his tone amused and mocking. Topper stifled a laugh at Jacks expense, enjoying the banter.

Jack's irritation reached a boiling point when Rafe brought his family's wealth into the conversation. He was fed up with the insults and condescending tone, "At least I have something to use. What do you offer? Just your arrogant attitude and shitty personality..."

Rafe chuckled, raising his beer to his lips. He couldn't help but feel amused at just how irritated he was getting his friend. "Yeah.. you got money. And yet the Pogue girl still didn't give two shits about you.. and let's be real... I actually have a personality."

Jack was close to physically exploding at this point. He was tired of the condescending tone and insults, but what really got under his skin was the mention of you and your lack of interest in him. Despite the fact he knew you were not interested in him, hearing the truth from someone else hurt his pride. "Oh, yeah? Right... Because being a dick is personality.." he retorted dryly as he took another sip of his bourbon.

Rafe scoffed, a smirk playing at his lips at Jacks obvious irritation. He knew he was hitting a nerve, and it was too easy to get under his skin. "Well, I'd take my personality over your arrogance any day.. At least I don't whine like a little kid when I don't get what I want..."

Jack was just about to snap again, his irritations getting the worst of him for a moment, before Topper intervened. He could sense the growing tension and before a fight breaks out he cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation into a different direction. "Alright, enough.. Both of y'all are being dickheads.. Can we drop the topic, please? Let's talk about something else."

Jack grumbled under his breath, unable to let go of his irritation just yet, while Rafe took another smug sip from his beer, still enjoying the banter. But the rest of the conversation shifted into a different, less heated topic. They still looked at each other with irritation, but kept their snarkiness to themselves to not cause a scene.

By the end of their drinking, the early afternoon shifting into early evening, you had finally cleaned up most of the counter, glancing occasionally over to the table of Kook boys, as the alcohol has started taking in effect. The atmosphere changing into a loud one. The group kept on getting more rowdy and you weren't sure how to feel, your gaze flicking over to them every now and then, watching them with a mixture of annoyance and entertainment. The tables around the bar continued to fill up, your shift growing more unbearable as you had to interact with more condescending kooks while simultaneously pouring the same few drinks over and over.

Rafe had downed quite a lot throughout the day and was feeling pretty drunk, but not too far gone yet. Just enough to feel the alcohol and the buzz, but still remember what he was doing. He occasionally let his gaze wander over to the bar to catch a glimpse of you working, a lazy cocky smirk on his face each time he did. He was definitely checking you out more often than he should.

At a moment when things seemed to calm down a bit, you were wiping down the bar-counter when you felt an all too familiar pair of blue eyes on you, boring into your skull. You didn't need to look up to know who it was, you could sense him watching you from across the room. The guy had a habit of staring a little too intensely for your liking whenever the two of you were in the same room. Even before you slept together. Which you didn't know if it was supposed to be flattering or not.

Rafe was sitting with his friends yet his gaze was fixated on you on the side. His eyes never left you, he was too fascinated with every little move you did. And he didn't really care who could see him staring right now. His eyes were glued to you through hooded lids, his head tilted to the side as he watched you intently, a cocky smirk plastered on his face as he slowly took in the sight of you.

You could feel Rafe's eyes on you, boring into you like a drill as he lazily leaned back to slouch on his chair. Which he changed at some point during the day, now sitting in a chair which faced the bar directly. You knew he was watching you and you knew he was drunk, the way his eyes were roaming over your body shamelessly gave him away. You could also feel his friends' eyes on him, not so discreetly, observing the way he was looking over at you. You tried your best not to acknowledge his gaze, even though your whole body was heating up from his intense stare. You were used to getting checked out by the younger kook boys, but Rafe was a different story. Your shared animosity and the fact that you knew him outside of work, made it all the more... awkward? You didn't even know if that was the correct word for how your relationship progressed over the past week.

Rafe was getting some interesting looks from his friends, but he didn't care. He was too busy watching your every move, his gaze intense and hungry. He liked it when you were ignoring him, it made it feel like a fun little game of cat and mouse. He knew he was being too obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. Every inch of you was like a magnet to his eyes.

He watched as you continued your work, his gaze flickering up and down your figure, drinking in the sight of you in those jeans. He could almost feel his mouth watering at the view. He was getting drunker by the minute, his inhibitions lowering and his desire growing stronger.

He took a sip of his beer, his gaze still following your every move as you were now bent over one booth to pick up some trash, Rafe's eyes roaming down your body to your ass, practically drooling a bit. He could hardly keep himself from getting up and walking over to you, but he knew it would cause a scene with his friends, so he just sat back and continued ogling you from across the bar.

You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you went through the same old routine of collecting trash, occasionally stealing glances at the table across the room where he was sitting. Rafe was definitely not being subtle about his stares anymore, his gaze hungry and intense, making your heart rate quicken in response. If this had been another night, you might have found it amusing how obvious he was being, but given the fact that you were working, it was actually becoming extremely irritating. Especially since you were completely sober, unlike him. You definitely didn't wanna interact with him, or any of the guys at his table for that matter. You walked back behind the bar, just tidying up the space in hopes of ignoring the stare down Rafe was trying to have with you, accidentally looking over at him for a split second and cursing yourself internally.

As soon as your eyes flickered over to his, Rafe smirked, noticing the sudden shift in your facial expression. He could tell you tried ignoring him, but one quick accidental look revealed the opposite. You were aware of his gaze. And he loved it. He slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip, the smirk never leaving his face, eyes locked on you like a predator locked on its prey.

He took another lazy sip of his beer, his eyes still on you, his gaze growing darker and hungrier by the minute. He watched as you tidied up the counter, his lazy smirk growing wider as he found himself growing more and more enchanted by the fact how completely unbothered you seemed by his stares, as if you weren't getting ogled by a drunk boy at all

After finishing up wiping the counter for the third time in the last ten minutes you decided you had enough of it. You fished your phone from your back pocket, leaning against the counter as you unlocked and swiped through your apps to reach the messages. You hovered over Rafe's contact, chewing on your bottom lip. Were you two even supposed to text? That would just give him the satisfaction of irritating you. But you had to decide quick, given you shouldn't be seen on your phone at the bar, despite not having anything to do or any customer to serve. So you gave in texting him briefly before stashing your phone back into your back pocket.

You rolled your eyes at his last text, tucking your phone back into your back pocket ending the conversation by leaving him on read. A small smile tugging at your lips as the bar started getting more crowded now that it was reaching rush hour. You spared another glance towards his table, sliding the glass of champagne to the last lady in the group of older kook women sitting at the bar, smiling as you opened the tab for them.

He watched as you worked, your every movement was like a spell he couldn't take his gaze off of. The way you moved around the room, the way you interacted with the customers, it was like watching an artist at work. He also noticed how you had put your phone away, refusing to engage in the banter with him anymore. And he had to admit, he missed your attention.

He found himself nursing his beer, his eyes glued to your figure as you continued to attend to the other customers. He was lost in his thoughts, a small frown tugging at his lips. He didn't like when you ignored him like this, it made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn't used to.

He hated that you were able to mess with him like this. He wasn't the type to let anyone get under his skin, but you? You had him wrapped around your pinky without even realizing it.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that made him so desperate for your attention, or maybe he was just feeling more emotional than usual. But he couldn't shake off the feeling of wanting to be near you.

He knew it was a bad idea, given the fact that you were working and you were both in public, but he didn't care. He needed to be close to you, even if just for a moment.

He downed the last of his beer, getting up from his seat with a bit of a sway as he made his way towards the bar, his eyes not leaving your figure for a second.

You were occupied with cleaning the bar countertop as he approached the bar, choosing to ignore him for a few moments until he'd eventually speak first. Because he always did. You still had the hope that he just walked over to get a refill or maybe even close out his tab for the day, but you probably didn't have that kind of luck.

He leaned against the bar top, propping himself up on his elbow as he watched you work. He couldn't help but admire the way your hips moved under those tight jeans every time you bent down to reach for something.

He waited for you to look up at him, but you seemed to be intentionally ignoring him, pretending like he wasn't even there. He couldn't help but smile, you were stubborn, he knew that much, and it was kinda hot. He cleared his throat, trying to get your attention, but you simply continued wiping down the bar.

"I know you can hear me." He called out in a singsong tone, his smirk growing wider as he watched you freeze in your movements at his words.

Your face soured in mock sadness before looking up at him and setting down the rag, "Unfortunately.." you sighed, shaking your head.

He chuckled softly, his smirk growing wider at your sarcastic response. He leaned a little bit closer towards you, resting his elbow on the bar top and propping his chin on his hand. He was in a strangely playful mood tonight, and that usually meant he was itching for a reaction from you. He gave you an obvious once over, taking his time admiring your body in the tight jeans.

He noticed how the denim hugged every curve of your body, the way your apron was tied around your waist. "Looking good tonight." He spoke, his tone low and playful, his eyes never leaving your figure.

He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was openly checking you out, or hitting on you and you couldn't help but grimace slightly. Although he was definitely doing better than his "friend" who tried to chat you up earlier that day. "Then i must be doing something wrong, huh?" you asked casually, feigning disappointment.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, his eyes still glued to your body. "No, no baby, definitely doing something right." He replied, his tone suggestive yet playful. He was enjoying this little game you two were playing, even though it was driving him crazy. "Those jeans should be illegal." He added with a smirk, his eyes finally flicking up to meet yours.

"Rafe.. your pick up lines should be illegal.." you mumbled, studying his form as he leaned in, cheek still propped on his elbow lazily. He was obviously more than tipsy with how much he downed today and with the way he was talking to you.

A smirk tugged at his lips, his eyes glistening with amusement as he leaned in even closer, his face now just a few inches away from yours. Your scent engulfed him as he let his eyes wander over your face, taking in every single detail. "I haven't even tried any of my actual good ones yet." He replied in a low tone, his gaze slowly trailing down to your lips, his smirk growing wider.

You pretended to shudder in mock disgust, not leaning back when he leaned in, although he was getting too close for personal space even with bar countertop between you two. "Please don't.. Do you wanna drink something? or are you here to make the rest of my shift harder?"

He chuckled softly, tilting his head to the side as his eyes roamed your face once more. Your words had no effect on him, he knew you were just being your usual snarky self, even if you were secretly enjoying him getting all up in your space.

"I'll drink anything off your lips." He replied bluntly, his smirk growing even wider at the thought.

The flirty statement didn't seem to phase you as you leaned back slightly to fidget with the rag. You had to admit it wasn't too bad, definitely unique, but he was being obnoxious and Rafe-y, so the charm of it flaked away instantly. "Don't think I'm allowed to serve drinks that way.. Sorry, handsome.." you mumbled, pretending to be apologetic once again.

He groaned, rolling his eyes but there was no real annoyance behind it. He liked this. He liked you being a complete brat to him, acting like he wasn't affecting you at all when deep down you were at least a little flustered over him.

"That's a damn shame. I'd pay good money for that." He said in a teasing tone, his smirk transforming into a sly smile.

"I bet.. You kooks like to just throw away money left and right.." you teased lowly, mirroring his expression. You adjusted your glasses with a soft flick of your fingers, studying his features and the way he sat on the barstool.

He chuckled softly, resting his chin on his hand once again and looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. He loved the way you were eyeing him, the way your gaze lingered on his lips for just a bit too long. He leaned forward a bit more, closing the distance between you even more.

"Only if it's worth it." He murmured, his eyes roaming your features before they dropped to your lips, his smirk growing wider.

"If i uh.. get a price list, I'll let you know.." you mumbled, smiling tightly at him, still fidgeting with the rag.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head at your snarky response. He couldn't resist the urge to tease you as much as possible, knowing it would piss you off, and he loved it that way. He leaned in even closer, the smirk on his face growing even wider as he watched you fidget around, playing with the rag in your hands.

"I have a blank check ready, baby." He replied cheekily, his gaze never leaving your figure.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a slight smile. You didn't understand how he managed to be charming and annoying at the same time. All while being unfairly handsome. "I'm sure you do.. Maybe order a drink first and then we can talk.."

He smirked, clearly enjoying himself. He let out a low chuckle, giving you a once over once again, a smirk plastered on his face. He leaned back slightly, running his tongue over his bottom lip as his eyes roamed your body, taking his sweet time to admire every curve of your body.

"Oh. Someone's getting impatient." He replied cockily, leaning forwards once again, getting closer to you. "This is landing right in my lap, isn't it?"

"You're hogging my bar, country-club.. At this pace, people who actually want to order won't have somewhere to sit.." you narrowed your eyes, smirking as you felt your breath hitch ever so slightly when his tongue ran over his bottom lip slowly, his blue eyes checking you out for the countless time that day. You felt a bit guilty, getting affected by the Rafe Cameron. This was still the same guy who had a distaste for your social class and friends. Nothing changed. Right?

He chuckled lightly, noticing how you were visibly affected by him, and that realization alone made him even more cocky. He knew he could get under your skin. He knew exactly how to push your buttons and how to make you break down that wall of annoyance that you built up against him. He smirked, leaning back in the barstool and giving you a once over with his piercing blue eyes.

"Don't worry baby, I'll tip you well." He replied, his smirk growing wider as he watched your every move.

"You need to order first so you can leave a tip.." you pointed out in a snarky tone, smirking teasingly at him.

He laughed softly, amused by your witty comebacks. He loved seeing you act like this, his smirk growing wider as he continued to eye you up, shamelessly checking you out as he spoke.

"And what's gonna happen if I don't leave a tip... You'll kick me out?" He asked in a cocky tone, his eyes still roaming your body.

Your eyes never left his blue ones, your smirk growing as you leaned in to whisper "Already tried to over text and it didn't work sadly.."

He felt his heart skip a beat at your response. The way you were bantering, the look on your face, and the sound of your voice. It was doing things to him that he wasn't expecting. He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to remain casual.

But it wasn't working. At least not for him.

He leaned closer, his face inches away from yours, his eyes wandering over to your lips before he could stop himself.

He couldn't help the feeling coursing through his body, the way you looked at him was driving him insane. He was supposed to be messing with your head, not other way around.

He chuckled dryly, leaning a little bit closer, his breath fanning over your face, his eyes glued to yours, not even trying to hide the fact that he'd been staring at you up and down all night.

"Try again to kick me out, baby. I'd like to see that." He whispered.

You leaned back slightly seeing as the distance between the two of you was shortening too much for comfort or professionalism. You really don't wanna lose your job over bantering with Rafe Cameron in a suggestive manner, "You're a VIP member of this club, i can't really kick you out as an employee, can i?" you asked casually, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. You were being ridiculous, this was the same guy who looked down on you and liked to make your shifts unbearable, why were you being nervous?

His cocky smirk widened even more at your response. He loved the fact that you couldn't kick him out, it was giving him free rein to bother, pester, irritate, and tease you to his hearts content. He felt a sense of power over you, and it was making him even more cocky.

"Damn right, baby I'm a VIP." He said with a slight hint of arrogance in his tone, his eyes still roaming over your form, and he was trying his best not to stare at your lips.

He chuckled deeply at your witty remarks, his eyes locked on yours as the tension continued to build between the two of you. He leaned forward once again, his face an inch away from yours, his lips hovering over your skin, almost close enough to touch.

"Baby.." He muttered in a low tone, his breath fanning over your face once again, his eyes roaming over your lips, as he fought the strong urge to close the distance and kiss you. This was getting out of hand.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, letting out a small scoff at his low and needy tone as if it was the most funniest thing. You stepped back even more, putting some needed distance between the two of you. Your eyes drifted from his to the table he was sat at, his friends still drinking and talking among each other. "Why aren't you with your friends..?" you mumbled, occupying your hands with tidying up the counter, throwing away the lemon peels and wiping down the spilled tequila.

He let out a dry chuckle, feeling slightly disappointed when you took a few steps back, putting more distance between the two of you. He rolled his eyes at the mention of his friends, letting out an annoyed huff.

"They're boring, that's why I decided to come bother you." He replied, his tone slightly annoyed, as he leaned against the bar top on his elbows, his gaze roaming over your figure once again.

You let out another sound resembling a laugh, even though it was more airy and breathy than one, eyes flickering back to the group once again. "Your new addition to the group paid me a visit at the bar and tried to hit on me earlier today.. Did you send him over to make fun of me for entertainment?" you asked softly, referring to Jack's earlier visit at the bar.

He rolled his eyes once again at the mention of Jack, visibly annoyed. The idea of Jack trying to hit on you made him irrationally angry earlier, even though he'd never admit it. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out an annoyed sigh.

"No, I didn't send him over." He replied, his tone slightly irritated. He took a sip of his beer before continuing, "He's a dick, ignore him."

You leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes subtly behind your glasses. You were almost sure the older Cameron boy had sent over to entertain his little group and you weren't entirely convinced of his tense denial. "That's funny... 'Cause when he walked over i was like: 'this guy looks kinda familiar..' And then i realized he tried hitting on me at the party a few days ago.." you mumbled so only he could hear. "And I'm pretty sure he was the one who spiked my drink.."

He didn't like what he was hearing. His jaw immediately clenched at your words. The thought of Jack trying to make a move on you and even worse, drugging you was making him livid. He didn't even try to hide his anger. Which he now had a reason for. Meaning he could probably kick this guy's ass finally and warrant it on something as bad as him spiking your drink.

"He tried hitting on you... and he's the one who spiked your drink..?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

You leaned back once again, nodding almost too casually. The pieces clicked earlier while studying Jack from afar trying to figure out why he looked familiar despite not being from the island. And then it clicked. "Yep. I just thought you sent him over to fuck with me or something.."

He felt a sudden burst of irritation. He was pissed at Jack for trying to hit on you, and even more pissed that he had the audacity to spike your drink. He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions.

"I would never send him over here to mess with you. I'm not that much of an dickhead."

You put your hands up defensively, eyes flickering across the room at Jack without even intending to so at this point. "You're Rafe.. I can expect just about anything from your royal highness.." you muttered teasingly, shrugging as you looked back into his eyes.

He let out a dry chuckle at your comment. He couldn't deny that he had a bit of a reputation for being a cocky jerk, but he was offended that you thought he was that bad. Plus, there was something about hearing you tease him. It was kinda hot too.

"Are you implying that I'm a dickhead?" He spoke in a low tone, leaning forward on the counter top once again.

"You're not?" you asked, grinning teasingly at him.

He smirked at your response, leaning a little bit closer, his gaze flickering over your features, taking you all in, inch by inch.

"A dickhead..?" he whispered, his tone low and teasing as he studied your face intently. "Maybe..." he admitted in a mocking tone, his smirk widening as he leaned even closer, his face just inches away from yours.

You hummed lowly, nodding slowly as he leaned in over the counter top without any shame, and you were glad your manager wasn't able to see you blatantly flirting with a patron in the middle of a shift. You weren't entirely sure what was happening to you and why you were entertaining Rafe's antics. Before you hooked up he'd flirt with you but you'd pay it no mind, so what changed now? "Besides.. Dickhead is an understatement..." you whispered mockingly, your eyes drinking in his features in the dim light of the country club, your grin softening due to the proximity.

His smirk widened, clearly amused by your response.

"Oh, come on now. I'm a little offended actually.." he teased gently, leaning forward even more, his face now mere inches away from yours. He could feel your breath fan over his face, the tension between the two of you was like the atmosphere before a lightning strike. He swallowed, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

He tried to sound cool and collected, but there was no hiding the fact that he was getting more than just a little affected.

"You should be... That's what i strive for.." you chuckled, reaching up to adjust your glasses slowly.

He chuckled softly at your response, the sound low in his throat, his eyes roaming over your face as you adjusted your glasses, and he bit his lip to contain the growing smirk on his face.

This was new. This was territory that neither of you had ventured into with each other.

He leaned in, his face now just an inch away, his gaze focused on you. "Yeah? Being a smartass gets your rocks off, huh, baby?"

You grimaced at his question, a confused smirk tugging at your lips. This indeed, was territory that neither of you would have thought you'd step in. Actually flirting? As two people who hated each other supposedly? Very strange. "Not exactly, no... That's just how i talk and you take offense to anything i say.." you murmured back, a small giggle escaping you as he leaned in even closer, as if the counter top wasn't in his way.

He chuckled once more, enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. It was almost unreal how your usually antagonistic nature was slowly transforming into something so much more. He couldn't help it, he was absolutely fixated by your presence. He was intrigued by your every move.

He leaned in even closer, his nose almost touching yours, his eyes roaming over your face.

"I don't take offense to everything. Just the things that are stupid, which is about 80 percent of the things you say." he teased.

The teasing words made you roll your eyes, shaking your head in mock annoyance, the two of you almost forgetting where you were and that you were both surrounded by people drinking in the country club leisurely. "And you flirt with me by insulting me... Who's more stupider?" you asked, drumming your fingers on the counter top as he grazed his nose against yours, giving in and trailing your pointer finger over his forearm slowly and in a feather-light touch.

He chuckled softly, loving the way you were slowly letting your guard down, and your demeanor around him was becoming more and more relaxed. He felt a shiver course through his body as you gently traced his forearm with your finger, and he watched you with eyes that held something more than just cockiness.

"I dunno.. maybe you. You're the one insulting me and then trying to cop a feel." he replied with a smirk, his eyes roaming your face once more.

Your expression twisted into an amused one at his words, gasping softly in disbelief, " 'Cop a feel' is an exaggeration.. I'm just.. being nice." you whispered, snorting slightly without realizing, your finger stopping its up and down motion to dig your nail into his skin gently.

He let out another low chuckle at your response, his smirk widening at how you were trying to downplay the fact that you were actually kind of flirting with him now, whether it was conscious or not, it still counted.

He winced softly at the feeling of your nail digging into his arm, feeling the skin underneath break slightly under the pressure, but he was too focused on you to even care at this point. "Being nice huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow at that statement

Your eyes flickered down at your own finger, pressing down your nail a little bit more, maybe even close to stinging "Yeah, is it surprising that i can be a little nice?" you asked narrowing your eyes a little.

He took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes flickering to your finger still digging into his skin. It was slightly painful, but he didn't mind it too much. He actually enjoyed it, just a slight bit.

He let out a low chuckle, letting a smirk play on his lips. "A little nice, yeah. You're usually anything but nice to me, baby."

You fell quiet for a moment, as if you were thinking over something, still not leaning back even though right now you were definitely testing the boundaries of a professional interaction. "Do you think they'd fire me if you kissed me right now..?" you asked out of nowhere, your slight smile widening at your own whispered words.

His eyes widened slightly at your question, his smirk transforming into a smile of surprise at your unexpected words.

He looked around the room once, checking if anyone was paying attention to the two of you, his gaze falling back on you as he tried to play it cool.

"Mmm.. they might. Would you risk that?" he asked, his smirk growing wider.

You trailed your finger over his forearm again, nail brushing over the small crescent mark you left when digging it into his skin, the gesture almost soothing, "No.. I want you to order something so i can go back to work.." you mumbled, grinning teasingly as you pulled back slightly, moving behind the bar to distract yourself a little.

He smirked at your response, slightly disappointed at the loss of contact, but he decided to play into his role of a cocky rich country-club boy for a bit. Even though he'd rather just watch you work the entire night.

He leaned back in the barstool, fixing his shirt before speaking, "Get me a scotch, baby." he said in a demanding tone.

"Highball?" you asked, tucking the rag resting on the counter top in your apron's pocket.

He smirked once more, enjoying you taking his order and playing along. He leaned against the bar top, his gaze fixed on your figure.

"Yeah.. You know how to make a good one.” he replied casually, tilting his head to the side as he watched you prepare his drink.

You scrunched up your face despite knowing that once he got a little tipsy at the country club he didn't bother with fancy drink orders and just downed highballs like it was his religion. That was his usual, and the first time he ordered it you couldn't believe that someone as snobby as him was drinking whisky and soda. You moved swiftly as you prepared the drink, grateful from the distraction provided by his order since things were growing too charged for your liking at the workplace with Rafe. And just in general regarding the two of you.

You filled the highball glass with solid ice and poured the scotch and topping it with club soda, adding a bit of ginger ale, knowing he always requested it anyway. You stirred it gently and placed it on the counter in front of him and leaning back "Am i adding that to your current tab?" you asked, already preparing to add the drink to the running tab under his name.

He took the glass with a smirk, swirling it around slightly and savoring the smell before bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. He let out a small sigh before speaking, "Yeah, put it on my tab.. I'll pay it off when I'm done for the night." he replied, his eyes glued to you as he took another sip, the liquor burning his throat and sending a shiver through him.

You hummed entering the drink in the system and updating his total on the tab before flitting your eyes back to him as he took the first sip. "you enjoying the drink? did i get it right?" you asked, nodding vaguely towards the drink as you adjusted your glasses.

He smirked as he took another sip, enjoying the taste before nodding in approval. He was impressed by how well you knew his drink order already, and how you got it down perfectly every time.

"Yeah, you did a good job." he replied in response, taking another sip and letting the liquid burn his throat. Once again, he felt his eyes roam over your figure, drinking you up and enjoying the sight in front of him.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little as his gaze roamed over your figure once again, his eyes hungrily trailing every single curve. You could feel his heated gaze even if you tried to ignore it, and it was beginning to get slightly awkward, and it was making you restless. You couldn't help but feel a little bit self-conscious in his presence, but it felt good to be so blatantly lusted over. Even if this was Rafe, and you weren't exactly wearing the most appealing outfit. A light blue polo shirt (provided by the club of course), a simple pair of jeans and a brown apron tied from waist down. You looked especially rough right now since it was nearing the end of your shift so why was he shamelessly drooling over you?

His gaze slowly traveled up your figure from your feet, to your legs, then your thighs, hip and waist, finally resting on your chest. Despite your very plain and mundane clothes, he couldn't help but find you insanely attractive. Your rough, sweaty appearance was adding to the allure and he felt himself growing increasingly hot just at the sight of you. He could feel his pants becoming a bit tight and he had to shift slightly in the barstool.

He took another sip of his drink, his gaze still glued on you, taking his sweet time to scan every inch of your body.

You continued to fidget in your spot, eyes flittering around almost desperately. Rush hour was almost over now, and the people in the country club were focused on hanging out with each other rather than drinking endlessly, since they were nicely buzzed. So aside from Rafe and a group of ladies to your left no one was really sitting at the bar. You had nothing to polish and the counter was clean from your excessive wiping, the space not cluttered since your shift was almost over.

So you were left with standing there almost awkwardly, staring right back at Rafe who was ogling you without a care in the world while drinking a highball casually. God, you hated work.

He watched as you fidgeted in your spot, your movements almost frantic as you tried to keep yourself busy with something, anything. His smile grew a little bit wider as he watched you squirm under his gaze, finding this situation absolutely hilarious. He knew that everyone was too busy in their own groups, enjoying eachothers company, and he knew that nobody was paying them any attention.

He finished the last of his drink, putting the empty glass down on the counter top and leaning in over the bar top.

"Baby.." He muttered almost desperately once again, his eyes never leaving yours.

You reached for the glass as soon as he put it down, placing it on your tray of dirty glasses that you needed to take to the kitchen and trying to muster a grimace at the word 'baby.' Even if you found yourself slightly liking how needy and low it sounded due to him being tipsy. "What..?" you mumbled in something to subtle exasperation, sighing softly.

He chuckled softly at your exasperated tone, still watching you intently as he leaned on the bar top. He could see that your demeanor was trying to stay nonchalant, but there was a hint of irritation and something else in your expression. He loved how you reacted to his words, no matter the situation.

He let out a low hum, tilting his head to the side as he spoke in a low tone, "Stop trying to act like you don't find me hot right now."

You stood in your spot, rolling your eyes in mild annoyance at his deduction, crossing your arms "Stop blatantly flirting with the bartender at your country-club.."

He chuckled softly again, the sound low and deep. He could tell that you were trying to act annoyed, but he knew that there was a hint of attraction in your eyes, no matter how hard you tried to cover it up. He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping even lower, his eyes locked with yours.

"Why? I'm sure you've seen guys hit on you all the time before.. I mean, who could blame them? You look sexy in that boring polo shirt..."

You grimaced once again, confusion flashing over your features. Drunk Rafe Cameron was definitely a sight to behold, and you couldn't believe he was still sitting there, almost hunched over the bar top, flirting with you and using the most corniest lines ever. "You're so tipsy it would be funny if this shift wouldn't have completely ruined me.." you muttered, adjusting your glasses as a distraction from the growing tension.

He chuckled at your response, finding your attempt to divert the conversation comical. He knew that his flirting was probably bordering on stupid and corny, but he didn't care. He was drunk, tired, and had nothing better to do. The growing tension between the two of you was palpable, and he could feel his heart rate picking up at the thought of doing something completely reckless in that moment.

"You look pretty ruined right now, dolly." He responded, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in your tired but still beautiful face. "But i think i can ruin you even more.."

"One of these days I'm actually gonna report you for harassment to my manager.." you chuckled dryly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

He let out a light scoff at your comment, a smirk still playing on his lips. He knew that you didn't really mean your words, and the thought of you reporting in to your manager about him making passes on you was almost amusing.

"And what are you going to say, baby? That I'm a rich spoiled brat that you secretly find attractive? I'm sure your manager will be very shocked.."

"Better yet... Who said i found you attractive? you're just a country-club brat who has nothing better to do than to flirt with the help.." you teased, shaking your head in mock disbelief. Your eyes were fixed into his, the dim light from the lamps scattered in the country club bar making his features looks more soft and blurred, a rare occurrence for Rafe Cameron.

He chuckled at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something else. It was almost like he was enjoying this little back and forth between the two of you, despite your words having a bite to them.

"Oh, baby.. You're the prettiest girl in this whole damn country club, and we both know it.." he said in a low tone, taking in your features under the soft light, admiring how beautiful you looked. He had always thought you were pretty, but seeing you under the dim lights like this was making his heart beat much faster.

Your eyes roamed over his face as he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed or grinned, the sight reminding you of JJ for a split moment. You pushed down the aching in your chest, letting the tension and lust drown out the buzzing of your heartbreak by holding onto the words he muttered softly. "You ran out of options already?" you asked, grinning slowly.

He was acutely aware of the way your eyes were studying his face, and the way you smiled despite trying to hold in a smirk. He could see the pain behind your eyes, the heartbreak etched on your features, but it only made him want you more. He could feel his body growing more and more hot, the idea of having you right there, on the bar top, was almost impossible to resist.

"Nah, baby. I have plenty of options.. You're just my favorite."

You scoffed, the sound breathy and slightly mocking "I feel honored.."

He chuckled at your response, a sly smile on his lips. He loved how you were able to match him whenever he got forward with you. The fact that you were so witty and feisty just fueled the fire in him even more.

"You should be." he replied, his voice low. He leaned in even closer, his eyes locked on yours. "You're not like the other girls I hook up with. You're different. Special."

You leaned on your elbows, resting them on the bar top as you tilted your head to the side, pretending to study his face intently "You hook up with other girls? And here i thought we were exclusive.." you murmured, narrowing your eyes in mock hurt.

He let out a low scoff, finding your mock hurt expression hilarious. But there was something about the fact that you were pretending to care about his past hookups that made him want to tease you even more.

"Baby, there's nothing exclusive here." he said, trying to keep his expression nonchalant even though he could feel his heart rate increasing at the idea of you actually caring about his hookups. "And you wanna know the number of girls who I've hooked up with in the last two weeks alone..?"

"That's right, nothing's exclusive about us... I just said i was using you to get over the fact that the guy I'm in love with has a girlfriend.." you whispered, your tone seductive despite the fact that your words were nothing along those lines. Rafe didn't seem deterred, matter of fact he seemed like he was waiting for you to say something like that, his smirk widening as you leaned closer to him.

Of course, the older boy still thinks about your little confession in his car the night you got spiked and he had to take you home to take care of you. About how in love with JJ you were, and how the dumb blonde wasn't gonna return your burning feelings cause he was dating the Carrera girl. If you asked him, it was a useless loss of time, especially since you were such a pretty girl and the world didn't narrow down to just one blonde surfer. But no one actually asked Rafe Cameron so..

His smirk widened even more as you leaned in closer to him, your tone seductive and alluring despite the words coming out of your mouth. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't wish he could replace the idiot that had your heart. Especially after the night he took care of you after you got spiked. He'd never admit it, but that entire night was permanently burned in his head, and the memory of you confessing your love to another guy hurt more than he cared to admit.

"Oh yeah? And who's the unlucky bastard you're trying to get over..?" he asked despite knowing the answer. Because if Rafe was anything, he was one masochistic bastard and he loved twisting the knife that stabbed him.

Your expression soured, even if it was for a hint, a small twitch in your features, exhaling softly as if there was a weight pressing down on your shoulders. You had felt it for a week or so now, barely even spending time with the pogues anymore due to the fact that JJ and Kie just started dating. "JJ.." you muttered, the name giving you a bittersweet taste as you spoke each syllable.

A pang of a thousand knives twisted in his stomach as you mentioned JJ's name, confirming his worst nightmare. He had heard it before, but hearing you say the words out loud and sober this time, was like a gut punch. He swallowed the sudden wave of jealousy and anger down, his heart aching as if someone was physically squeezing the life out of it. Which he instantly blamed on the alcohol, not wanting to dwell on any feelings tied to you for more than two seconds.

"JJ's a fucking idiot." he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a bitter sarcasm. "He's too stupid to see that you're way too good for him."

You scoffed bitterly, your eyes roaming over his features without realizing, tracing them from behind your glasses, still leaning casually on the bar top, faces close "You don't have to pretend like you care about my soap opera of a life.." you whispered softly, "I don't even wanna be a part of it.." you chuckled bitterly, your teeth digging into your bottom lip thoughtfully.

He let out a scoff at your words, his eyes locked on yours, noticing the way you were studying his features with your doe eyes. He wanted to reach out and run his thumb over your bottom lip, to soothe away the pain that was written all over your face. But he restrained himself, his hands gripping the edge of the bar top to keep himself in control.

"Who said I was pretending?" he asked quietly, his voice soft and sincere.

You let out another chuckle, this time the sound genuine yet low, your features twisting in soft amusement "I dunno.. The voices?" you mumbled, shifting the focus of your eyes between his. Left-right, right-left.

He couldn't help but feel a pang of something in his chest at the sound of your chuckle, a rare moment of genuine humor seeping through your witty facade. He chuckled softly at your comment, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You're as funny as always." he replied, his eyes fixed on yours, and how they were darting back and forth between his. He found himself getting lost in the way your eyes shimmered under the dim light of the bar, the thought of how easy it would be to just lean forward and kiss you.

"Being funny is just one of my greatest features..." you grinned smugly before adding with a low, suggestive undertone "Among other qualities, of course.."

He chuckled softly as you spoke confidently, a smirk spreading across his face at the suggestive undertone in your voice. His eyes darkening with a mixture of lust and amusement as he spoke.

"Oh, I know all about those other qualities." he said, his voice low and filled with a playful innuendo. "You know I have a weakness for smart, witty, hot bartender girls.." he added, leaning in closer to you, his eyes practically glued to your lips.

"Then you must be just as mentally ill as me, country-club.." you teased, your breath hitching as he continued to inch closer, his blue eyes fixed on your lips. Which were basically almost shredded to pieces given you nibbled nervously on them all day.

He chuckled at your response, his smirk widening at the hitch in your breath. He could see the way your lips were slightly chapped from your constant habit of biting them, and the sight only made him want to kiss them even more.

"You have no idea, dolly." he muttered under his breath, now only a few inches away from you. "I'm a little bit insane when it comes to you."

You scoffed, tilting your head to the side slightly, desperately holding onto the last bit of control seeing as he wasn't backing away from leaning in. "Are you usually this desperate and a little pathetic or is it just to be funny?" you asked, your shaky words carrying a smidge of condescension.

His smirk widened into a sly, crooked grin at your words, the slight edge of condescension in your tone only making him want to get closer.

"Only for you, baby." he replied, his voice low and seductive. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear as he added, "I'd be on my knees for you right now if I could.."

Your brows raised in surprise, your mind torn between the fact that he was just going along with the teasing because he was tipsy or if he was actually serious. Both options seemed thrilling enough, looking down at his lips for a few moments as he grinned, your voice coming out even more low and teasing "Oh really? The big, bad Rafe Cameron on his knees for someone..?"

His hands gripped the edge of the bartop even tighter, his heart rate picking up at your question. The image of him on his knees for you was all he could see in his mind now, his mind swimming with the thought of your hand wrapped in his hair as he ate you out.

"For you, doll? Always." he said, his voice low and rough. "I'd do anything to hear you say my name.."

You didn't know what it was, but every time Rafe seemed to flirt with you in a genuine manner your first response was nervous amusement. You weren't entirely sure when that changed from absolutely hating his invasive and unstable presence into actually thriving under his corny attentions. And you weren't sure if you liked it.

By the look on his face, you could only guess you were both thinking about the same thing, falling silent for a few moments as you stared at him, brows still raised in surprise and maybe even arousal. You lowered your head to laugh softly, taking his words at face value and assuming he was just trying to be funny, the only sounds around you both being the atmosphere of the country club still packed with patrons around you.

He watched the myriad of emotions fleeting over your face as he spoke, the amused shock and slight arousal in your expression fueling his desire to get even closer to you. He wanted to run his hands through your soft hair, to kiss that gorgeous laugh of yours, to press you against the bar and have his way with you in front of everyone in this god damned country club…

But he just stood there, his knuckles almost turning white as he held onto the edge of the bar, trying to keep himself in check as he watched you laugh softly.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face, the sound of your soft laughter like music to his ears. He was still struggling to rein in his desires, the image of you spread out in front of him, moaning his name filling his mind, already feeling how your thighs would threaten to close around his face as you got closer. The thought of having you right there, in front of everyone, in this crowded country club, was driving him feral with need.

He suddenly reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fiery lust in his eyes.

Your amused smile faltered slightly as he tilted your face up, your hands itching to adjust your glasses out of nervousness as you watched him expectantly before speaking up "What..?"

He chuckled lowly, noticing the way you almost reached up to adjust your glasses, a hint of nervousness in your eyes. He couldn't believe how beautiful you were, standing there, looking like the perfect mix of innocent and seductive all at once. It was driving him crazy.

"You really have no idea, do you dolly?" he whispered, his voice low and filled with a mix of hunger and tenderness. "You have no idea how much I want you. How badly I want to have you right now.." he added, his fingers tracing your jawline softly.

Your breathing hitched as if you had never been touched by a guy before, or even less- spoken to by one. Your fingers drummed on the counter nervously, exhaling as you studied his face intently, waiting for the punchline to land so you could laugh (like you always did when flirted with you). Maybe for the first time while interacting with Rafe you were genuinely flustered. You didn't know what it was in the air, and much to your dismay the punchline didn't come, leaving you leaning over the counter top staring up at him with wide eyes.

You blinked a couple of times, itching more than anything to have the power to reach your hand up and adjust your glasses, instead you just continued to look up at him as a small smile tugged at your lips "Yeah sure.." you mumbled, trying to sound teasing and sarcastic, unaffected by the neediness in his eyes and voice.

Rafe could almost feel his heart leaping out of his chest at your response, the sound of your voice making his chest fill with a mixture of desire and relief. He could sense the slight surprise and nervousness in your tone, and it made him feel a sense of power, knowing that he was able to make you flustered for once. He leaned in closer, his fingers still gently holding your chin, the need to have you more intense than ever, almost primal.

"Say it." he murmured, his voice low and demanding. "Say you need me too."

You were almost ready to actually comply for once in your life, more surprising given this was Rafe. And you'd never find yourself actually doing anything he'd ask you if it didn't entail you doing your fucking job. You breathed out as he leaned closer, ghosting his lips over yours as if the two of you weren't still in the country club bar, and as if you weren't an employee of the said club almost getting ready to kiss one of the highest paying patrons. You nodded vaguely, humming in response as you kept your eyes locked on his, the small hum coming out without even realizing.

The fact that you were actually responding, that he had you so close to actually giving in to him, was making Rafe feel like he was high on ecstasy. His mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of you, nothing but the need to feel your lips on his, your body against his, the taste and smell of you on his tongue. He watched as you nodded and hummed, the sound driving him even more insane.

"Say it." he repeated, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "Say you need me. Say it, dammit."

Your eyes drifted down to his lips, watching them as intently as you were watching his eyes, trying to keep your voice as unaffected and steady as possible "I'm not-.. I'm not gonna say that.." you murmured, chuckling breathlessly.

He felt like he was going crazy, the way your eyes traced his lips, the sound of your laugh, the fact that you were so goddamned stubborn and defiant even in a moment like this. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you until you couldn't think straight, until you were begging for him to take you right there in front of the entire country club, until the only words you could speak was his goddamn name.

"Say it, baby. Tell me you need me."

Your heart raced in your chest like never before, now itching to just lean in a kiss him, consequences be damned. But you didn't. Not yet, although you knew next time you and Rafe were gonna be alone you definitely will. Your words were almost inaudible over the noises from the other kooks in the island club, and you weren't sure if you actually said the words 'i need you' outloud.

But before you could see his reaction to your words, you were startled to death by someone clearing their throat behind you. When you jumped back from Rafe, scrambling to turn around and face the person, you were praying to every god up there, that it wasn't your manager. And thankfully it wasn't. "Fuck! Sofia.. Can you stop-.. Sneaking up on me like that?" you whisper shouted at her in exasperation over being startled by your coworker standing behind you with a raised brow. "Seriously it doesn't get funnier each time you do it.."

Rafe was so close to just grabbing you, to just kissing the living daylights out of you until you admitted that you needed him, that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. But then the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you broke him out of the haze of lust that clouded his mind. He blinked a few times, coming back to reality and realizing that you had actually whispered the words he'd been so desperate to hear.

He turned to look at the person who had interrupted the moment, his irritation flaring up at the sight of your co-worker. Which he wasn't too proud to admit that he knew.... And even slept with in the past. Maybe he had a type now that he thought about it.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the bar, his mind still a bit fuzzy from the alcohol and from the almost-kiss he had with you. He could still feel the ghost of your breath on his lips, and the sight of you blushing and stuttering as you spoke to your co-worker was not helping to calm down the ache in his jeans. He tried to focus on the conversation between the two of you, but his mind kept wandering back to the memory of your lips so close to his, and how badly he wanted to feel them on his again.

"Your shift ended 15 minutes ago.." stated Sofia, narrowing her eyes at you with an amused yet curious smirk.

Rafe raised an eyebrow at the comment from your co-worker, his mind quickly doing the math in his head. Your shift had ended 15 minutes ago, which meant that you were technically on free time now. Which he knew very well what could happen in 15 minutes....

A sly smirk spread across his face as he looked between you and your co-worker with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

You spared a fleeting gaze towards Rafe before looking back to Sofia and adjusting your glasses. God, you didn't even notice. And you were supposed to already be changed and out back waiting for JJ to pick you up and take you to the Chateau. Instead you were sitting there, flirting blatantly with Rafe. "I was just.. waiting for you.." you chuckled awkwardly at your coworker, reaching behind you to slowly untie the apron.

His smirk widened as he watched you fumble with the apron behind you, the thought of taking it off for you himself slowly creeping into his mind. He pushed it back though, knowing he had to be patient, that soon enough you would be alone with him, in his car, under him, moaning-. He mentally shook his head to clear his thoughts, focusing back on your conversation with your co-worker instead.

Sofia raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Rafe for a few moments, as if she was assessing what was going on between the two of you. She could probably tell from the tension in the air and the look in both of your eyes that there was something more than just ordering a drink happening. And the fact that you were still in your work uniform while Rafe was practically devouring you with his eyes didn't go unnoticed either.

"Well, you better get going then." She said with a smirk, a hint of a tease in her voice.

Your eyes drifted back to Rafe still leaning over the bar casually like he wasn't damn near making out with you right here, right now. What the hell were you doing? you had to ask yourself every time you were close to him. Which at the moment was a question without an answer. "Uh.. yeah." you muttered back, shifting in your spot while Rafe just simply stood up and walked back over to his table, where his friends were still talking and laughing loudly. Leaving all alone at the bar with Sofia, whose teasing look turned into a more curious one.

Rafe could feel your eyes on him as he walked back to his table, his friends instantly teasing and making jokes about his interaction with you. He couldn't help but shoot a glance back towards the bar, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment before he looked away. He tried to focus on the conversation his friends were having, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of you, and how badly he wanted to just say 'f*ck it' and pull you away from your work and have his way with you right here on the bar.

Sofia leaned against the bar, crossing her arms and looking at you with a sly smile, her eyes flickering between you and Rafe. She had a feeling that something more than just a drink was going on between you and the infamous billionaire bad boy of the island. And she was damn well going to get it out of you.

"Sooo...." she drawled, her tone teasing and curious. "What's going on between you and Rafe Cameron, huh?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

You let out a nervous chuckle, grimacing in mock disgust at her question. "Me and Rafe? Nothing.. he was just ordering a drink, that's all.." you deflected, your grip on the apron in your hand tightening as you leaned on the counter of the bar by the sink.

Sofia chuckled, not buying your answer for a second. She knew damn well what she had seen and heard while you were talking to Rafe, and she was not going to let you get away without spilling the tea.

"Uh-huh, sure." she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "So, the googly eyes, the leaning over the bar like he wanted to kiss your face off, that was all him just ordering a drink, right?" she teased with a smirk.

Her deduction made you pause almost visibly before you had the chance to deflect once again, growing more flustered, which surprised you because you were never flustered. Let alone from speaking with Rafe. "Well.. Yeah. He's just drunk.." you shrugged. "And also didn't you also hook up with him for a while last summer? He seems like he has a type for pogue bartenders.." you mumbled teasingly, still trying to deflect the attention from you onto her.

Sofia raised an eyebrow at your attempt to deflect the conversation onto her, but her smirk widened at the mention of her previous hook up with Rafe. She was not going to let that slip past her either. "Ouch, that was low." she chuckled, a hint of amusement in her voice.

She paused for a moment, studying your flushed expression closely before adding "Don't change the subject. We're talking about you and Rafe, not me."

"Aren't you gonna try and warn me and share your wisdom as the older coworker..? You know since you hooked up with him before?" you asked, leaning in teasingly as you felt yourself relax a little bit. "Not that I'm hooking up with him or anything along those lines.." you added hurriedly, shaking your head despite lying through your teeth.

Sofia raised an eyebrow at your question, a small chuckle escaping her lips as she leaned against the counter to match your position. She could tell that you were trying to deflect and avoid talking about the fact that you were most definitely getting close with Rafe. But she decided to play along for now, pretending to give into your distraction.

"Well.." she drawled, her tone a bit smug. "I can't blame you for wanting some of that billionaire bad boy D, but I gotta say.. He's not the most.. loyal. Or stable."

You grimaced once again, this time the gesture genuine as if the idea of committing to Rafe was actually ridiculous. "Trust me i don't want him to be loyal to me..." you trailed off before adding. "And besides i don't even like him.. He's snobby and annoying, the least good thing about him would be the D. If i was getting some.. Which I'm not."

Sofia chuckled at your response, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. She knew damn well that you were lying, but she decided to play along for now, feigning skepticism.

"Right, right, of course. You don't like him, and you're definitely not getting any of that good D from him." she said with a smirk, her tone laden with sarcasm. "Seriously, you're as convincing as a brick wall."

Your shoulders dropped as she continued to call you out on your blatant lying. In some way maybe you had physical attraction to Rafe, given you slept with him three times already, but your mind drifted back to JJ and how pathetically in love you were with him while he had a whole girlfriend, and your mood soured even more. "All i can tell you is that even if i was hooking up with him it would be casual. Because you know.. I'm emotionally too attached to someone i can never have and it's eating me up inside for a week or so. Normal girlhood stuff.." you stated as you waved your hand in the air dismissively, your words cynical and sarcastic.

Sofia's smirk faded a bit as she picked up on the shift in your tone and demeanor. She could see the pain and bitterness in your eyes as you talked about being in love with someone you could never have and it tugged at her heart slightly. She knew exactly what it was like to be in that kind of situation, and it wasn't something she wished upon anybody.

"Ouch." she muttered, her voice quieter now. "Been there, done that. It sucks." she said softly before adding after a beat of silence. "You talking about JJ?"

Your eyes snapped to her instantly, brows furrowing as she shot the perfect target with one try. In such a casual way too, like it was obvious to everyone but JJ how in love with him you were. "What? Where is that deduction coming from? Why would your first guess be JJ?" you asked, a small frown pulling at your features.

Sofia simply raised an eyebrow, her gaze locking onto yours. She could see the surprise and defensiveness in your expression at her accurate guess, and it only confirmed what she already suspected. She took a moment to study you before responding, her voice gentle yet slightly amused.

"Well, I've seen the way you look at him." she stated matter-of-factly. "Like he hung the moon or some sappy bullshit like that. Plus, you're always hanging around him and pining like a lost puppy."

"Please tell me it's not that obvious.." you muttered, deadpanning before you groaned in something akin to frustration.

Sofia chuckled at your response, shaking her head slightly. "Sorry, sweetheart." she replied with a sympathetic tone. "I hate to break it to you, but it's pretty damn obvious. Anyone with eyes who's been around you and JJ together can tell you're head over heels for the guy. It's almost painful to watch, honestly."

"Imagine how i feel.." you muttered, your gaze dropping down on the floor, letting them roam over your beat up sneakers. "The only person not aware of the fact is the problem itself."

Sofia let out a small sigh at your words, her heart aching for you. She could only imagine the torment and frustration you must feel being in love with someone who was completely oblivious to your feelings, even someone as clueless and dense as JJ Maybank.

"God, that's rough." she said softly, her voice genuine. "I can't believe JJ hasn't picked up on it yet. The blind idiot."

You raised your gaze once again, feeling overcame by a myriad of emotions including disgust at yourself for moping over someone so obviously. Your expression hardened as you tried to feign nonchalance, words coming out lowly "Well even if he has, he's dating Kie.. So.." you trailed off, mind flashing with all the moments you witnessed between the two in the past week, chest aching just a smidge.

Sofia's heart ached at the sight of your hardening expression, knowing that you were trying so hard to hide the pain and disappointment you were feeling. She knew how much it killed you to see JJ with Kiara, and it was clear to her that it was like a knife twisting in the wound every time you saw them together.

"Yeah... that's the kicker, isn't it?" she said, her voice empathetic. "The fact that he'll probably never look past Kiara and see you for what you're really worth."

"Girl... That's really deep." amusement flashed over your face after a few moments, placing a hand on her shoulder as you snorted. "But i am hooking up with Rafe to bury my feelings in a pool of self hatred and guilt. So I'm coping pretty well if i do say so myself.." you murmured, grinning widely.

Sofia chuckled at your response, rolling her eyes at your sarcastic comment. She knew you were trying to deflect and make light of the situation.

"Oh, yeah. That's an extremely healthy way to deal with your feelings. Diving headfirst into a pool of hot, filthy self-hatred and guilt sex with a rich, unstable bad boy. Definitely the best way to handle your feelings for your best friend who's dating someone else." she teased, giving you a knowing smirk.

You pretended to sigh in disappointment as she made an accurate description of your situation, despite the self destructive tendencies of the whole ordeal. "When you put it like that you're taking the fun out of it and making it sound stupid and self destructive.." you rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses.

Sofia laughed at your response, shaking her head in amusement. She knew damn well that you were taking this whole thing lighthearted, but she also knew that deep down, you were fully aware of how stupid and self-destructive your current situation was.

"Well, I'm sorry to rain on your parade, but sometimes the truth hurts, sweetheart. And the truth is, you're engaging in some self-destructive behavior that'll probably end badly if you keep it up."

You shrugged dismissively despite knowing that she was in fact right. And that you probably could've chosen someone else to hook up with to drown out your feelings. Because looking at it right now, if the pogues found out you could lose all of them. But who were you, if not the worst person at making choices and ruining your life? You held it close to your heart to live up to the title everyday.

"Well my shift ended unfortunately and i have to cut this conversation short.." you mumbled in mock disappointment, desperately wanting to end the conversation since you managed to sound more and more stupid as words kept getting exchanged. "Instead of being a bartender you should look into the vacant spot for a psychologist at the club. I'm sure they'll hire you, babes.. These kooks definitely need someone to deal with their unstableness and alcoholism from an young age." you patted her shoulder, walking past her from behind the bar, heading towards the employee locker to get changed out of your uniform and finally be done with the day.

Sofia rolled her eyes at your sarcastic comment, shaking her head slightly. She knew you were deflecting once again, trying to cover up the fact that deep down, you were well aware of the self-destructive nature of your choices. But she also knew better than to push the issue further.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get changed, smartass. Try not to trip on your self-sabotage on the way out. And I'll think about the psychologist thing." she replied, a smirk playing on her lips.

As you walked away towards the employee locker to change, Sofia watched you go, a mixture of concern and mild annoyance on her face. She knew you were good at hiding your feelings behind sarcasm and witty comments, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry for you. She wondered if this whole thing with Rafe was just a coping mechanism for the pain of loving someone you believed you could never have. But she decided to let it go for now, shaking her head as she turned to continue cleaning up behind the bar.

Meanwhile, as you changed out of your work uniform and got ready to leave, your mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions, but the main thing on your mind was your complicated relationship with Rafe. You could feel the weight of the whole situation pressing down on you, and you couldn't help but wonder if Sofia was right. Was this all just another form of self-destructive behavior? Were you really fooling yourself into believing that this casual hook up with Rafe would help you deal with your feelings for JJ? As you pondered over these questions, the sounds of the country club slowly faded into the background.

You stood at the back, looking down at your phone, waiting for JJ to reply to your texts and let you know that he was in fact coming to pick you up from the club like he promised yesterday. Which never happened. You fidgeted with the hoodie string, chewing down on the small plastic part and scrolling through your phone for fifteen minutes before he actually texted you. Instead of the usual 'on my way!' followed by a string of dumb excuses of why he was late came a text that quite frankly sent your feelings plummeting down even more. Which honestly, were in such a state that you were wondering when they were gonna reach the rock bottom of the hole you were in.

Today 9:58 pm

'Sorry date with kie got stretched, currently at the wreck, still eating :( u can take the bus right?'

Blared your phone back at you. You wanted to say typical JJ but this wasn't the case. He was late but he never pulled stunts like these before. Having a girlfriend wasn't the problem here, him thinking he could manage to go on a date with his and then also pick you up as he promised was. He could've let you know, and then maybe you could ask to leave early to catch the last bus, but he didn't and now you were left to walk to the Chateau. Which you weren't even sure you wanted to do anymore.

Your heart sank as you read the text from JJ, disappointment and frustration washing over you in waves. Of course, he would choose his girlfriend over you. But what stung even more was the fact that he hadn't even bothered to let you know in advance. And now, you were left with the prospect of having to walk all the way back to the Chateau because he was busy on a date with Kiara.

You felt a pang of hurt in your chest as you sighed, putting on your backpack and slinging it over your slumped shoulders.

You reached into the pocket of your hoodie, the anger and exhaustion from the shift weighing down on you considerably, dropping down to sit on the curb of the small sidewalk behind the country club. You pulled out the pack of cigarettes, plucking one and lighting it almost too desperately, inhaling as soon as the end of it burned a dull orange. Calling your mom to come pick you up was a no go because 1. she was probably drunk, hooking up with her boyfriend and therefore couldn't drive and 2. she simply wouldn't want to. Because she was your mom and there a few things in this world she wanted to do, which unfortunately and due to circumstances that you didn't understand, didn't include you.

Now was walking all that bad? No. You had your earphones and enough music on your phone to get you through the walk, but there was a small storm warning for tonight and in general walking home at night sober terrified you. You never understood how you could do it while being drunk, especially as a girl. Maybe you should keep a small flask of vodka in your backpack for times like these. But you'd just solidify your own alcoholic tendencies, and you weren't quite ready to be aware of them yet. So, no flask for the time being.

You sat on the curb, letting out a cloud of smoke as you exhaled slowly, the anger and disappointment still hanging heavy in your chest. You were considering your options. The walk back to the Chateau was doable, but it would take a while, and the thought of walking through the darkness on your own didn't sit well with you. Especially with the storm warning. You could call an Uber, but you didn't have the spare cash for that, and you'd already spent most of your paycheck on weed earlier. Spending the tips you got today on an Uber was basically throwing money away.

You took another puff of the cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs and numb your emotions for a moment. As you exhaled, you couldn't help but wonder if this was what your life had been reduced to. A series of bad decisions and unhealthy coping mechanisms. You knew you were being hard on yourself, but in this moment, it was hard not to be. You could hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatter from inside the country club, the stark contrast to your lonely situation only making you feel more isolated and alone.

The sound of laughter and chatter from the inside of the country club only seemed to highlight the sense of isolation you felt. You felt a pang of loneliness. This life was not where you wanted to be. You wanted to be happy and carefree like everyone inside the club. You wanted to be carefree like JJ. The thought of him enjoying his date while you were out here smoking away your pain only added fuel to the fire of self-pity. You took another long drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply, the smoke filling your lungs and calming your emotions.

After the long walk to the chateau in which you fortunately didn't get stabbed and mugged to death, you reached the front door, taking out your earphones and stopping the music that was blaring inside them. Instantly you were met with the faint sounds of the pogues inside. Your friends were probably tipsy and judging by Kiara's car sitting parked outside, JJ and Kie were inside too. The thought alone was enough to bring your mood back to the state it was before you started walking here, and you found yourself hesitating even if it was for a few moments, rethinking the decision of going inside.

As you stood outside the front door of the Chateau, you could faintly hear the voices of your friends inside, the sound of their laughter and chatter floating through the windows. You paused for a moment, the thought of seeing JJ and Kiara together bringing back the pang of hurt and disappointment you felt earlier. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back the way you came, but you knew that was just cowardice talking, and the stubborn, masochistic side of you won over.

You mentally prepared yourself for the possibility of seeing JJ and Kiara together, a sight that you knew would only add to your pain. With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and walked inside, trying to appear nonchalant as you entered. John B and Pope were playing beer pong, Sarah watching intently by her boyfriend's side and the sight made you smile. And then your eyes shifted to the couch, where JJ and Kie were snuggled up next to each other, completely unaware of what was happening around them and the small smile dropped instantly, probably comically even. You had to take a deep breath and step further into the living room, making your presence known since they didn't hear the door opening due to the music playing from a speaker next to Pope's feet.

As you walked further into the living room, the sight of JJ and Kiara snuggled up together on the couch sent a jolt of pain through your chest, but you tried your best to brush it off and act nonchalant.

Your entrance into the room went mostly unnoticed at first, as most of the Pogues were focused on the game of beer pong happening between John B and Pope. It wasn't until you stepped closer, your presence finally breaking through the haze of music and laughter, that JJ and Kiara finally turned their attention towards you.

JJ's eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of you, a mixture of surprise and guilt briefly flashing across his face. He could see the disappointment and hurt in your expression, even if you were trying to hide it. But Kiara, completely oblivious to the tension, immediately perked up at your arrival.

"Hey you!" Kiara exclaimed, her voice cheerful and loud. "Where were you? We were wondering when you'd show up!"

You stood in the middle of the living room awkwardly, your hand stopping mid way as you were about to take your backpack off, when Kie's voice stunned you for a second. Your eyes drifted from hers to JJ's as you spoke up, a tight smile gracing your lips clumsily "Yeah.. I had to walk home. The last bus from the country club leaves at 9 and i finished at 9:30.."

JJ's eyes narrowed slightly as you spoke, a pang of guilt shooting through him. He knew damn well that he was the reason you had to walk all the way back here, instead of him picking you up like he promised.

But, JJ being the cocky idiot in this whole situation just leaned back against the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Damn, that sucks.” He said, his nonchalant tone only adding more salt to your wound. “Guess you should've left work a bit earlier then, huh?"

Your stomach twisted as he spoke teasingly and casually, no hint of remorse playing over his handsome features, his hand draped over the couch and playing with a strand of Kie's hair like he had no care in the world. Like you didn't just walk here all the way across the island, in the dark with a storm warning looming over your head. Your fingers finally wrapped around the backpack strap, sliding it off your shoulders and dropping it by the coffee table in front of the couch, eyes narrowed significantly. 'Not even a sorry?' you asked yourself internally as slumped on one of the lawn chairs in front of the couch, sighing. "Guess i should've.. But i wasn't supposed to take the bus, was i?" you asked, the question meant to subtly make a jab at JJ breaking his promise.

JJ felt a pang of guilt at the subtle jab in your question, even though his expression remained deceptively calm and nonchalant. He knew exactly what you were hinting at, and he knew he had messed up by forgetting about his promise to pick you up from work.

He continued to play with Kiara's hair, his movements a little more tense than before, the teasing smirk still plastered on his face.

"Yeah well, plans change." He said with a shrug, his gaze flickering from you to Kiara, feigning innocence.

Your brows raised a bit, your disbelief at his audacity almost bleeding out onto your expression before you managed to school it. You weren't gonna make a scene, you kept repeating to yourself like a mantra, jealousy and anger bubbling up in your stomach and make it twist like it would usually before a test. Except you weren't at school, you were sitting in front of your best friends, who seemingly had a great time on their date at your expense. You tried to chuckle casually, adjusting your glasses as you spoke after a few moments.

"I'm assuming your date went well, right?" you asked, pointing to the two of them sitting in front of you, your smile not reaching your eyes quite fully.

JJ could see the anger and jealousy in your eyes, the effort it was taking you to keep it hidden only making him feel guiltier. But he was never one to admit his faults easily, especially not in front of other people. Instead, he just nodded his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yea, it was pretty fun." He said nonchalant, his hand still playing with Kiara's hair. Kiara chimed in as well, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

"It was great! We went to the Wreck and then took a walk on the beach." She said cheerfully.

You nodded as if you actually cared about the details of their stupid date, feeling like there was cement slowly getting poured over your neurons, your brain desperately trying to shut itself out from feeling the regret you were feeling at not just making a beeline for your house. Your legs ached, the heel of your foot feeling like it was on fire from standing up all day without sitting down more than ten minutes, you had barely anything to eat and you were overall just in a shitty mood. You probably looked like you needed a shower, smelled like it too.

But still, that didn't deter you, you were not gonna falter in the sight of exhaustion and bitterness, instead choosing to chew on your already shredded bottom lip as you averted your gaze for just a little. "I'm sure it went great, JJ's really good at grand gestures when it means he gets to ignore the little ones.." you mumbled, hoping the last part wasn't audible over the music playing from the speaker.

The comment caught JJ's attention and his hand paused in Kiara's hair, his expression faltering for a brief second before he quickly concealed it. He could feel the bite in your words, the hidden accusation that he was more willing to go all out for Kiara than put in effort for you. It stung, but he quickly composed himself, continuing to play with Kiara's hair.

"Hey, I do the big and the small gestures, thank you very much." He shot back, trying to keep his voice light and unbothered, even though he knew damn well you had a point.

"I'm sure you do." you replied in a cheerful tone that didn't quite match your tight expression, waving your hand in the air as you spoke, "I mean.. I didn't really get to congratulate you guys officially. And it's been a week already." you chuckled, looking between them with yet another tense smile as your gaze settled on Kiara "Dude, you're seriously so lucky you have JJ's full attention and.. dedication to put in the effort."

Kiara giggled, blissfully unaware of the underlying tension between you and JJ. She didn't pick up your sarcastic tone or the hidden jab in your words. She just saw it as harmless teasing between friends, and she responded with her usual cheerfulness.

"I know, right?" She said, looking lovingly up at JJ. "I'm damn lucky."

JJ's fingers continued tangling in Kiara's hair, his expression still casual, but there was a hint of discomfort in his eyes as he glanced at you.

The conversation continued, with Kiara blissfully rambling on about their date and their plans for the future while JJ pretended to listen intently, his mind elsewhere. He could feel the discomfort in the air, the tension between you and him like a thick cloud hanging over them. He couldn't help but steal glances at you, silently begging you to drop the act and just confront him, but you stayed silent, continuing to feign nonchalant banter with Kiara.

John B and Pope, meanwhile, seemed blissfully unaware of the tension, their attention solely focused on the beer pong game in front of them.

The conversation between Kiara, you, and JJ continued to flow, the awkward tension in the air almost palpable. Kiara continued to babble about their date and their plans for the future, while JJ just nodded along half-heartedly, his hand still running through Kiara's hair. John B and Pope were too drunk to notice the tension, still deeply absorbed in their game of beer pong, their laughter and banter filling the room.

Eventually, Kiara got up, excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving you and JJ alone on the couches for the first time since you arrived.

The moment Kiara disappeared, the silence between you and JJ became deafening. It was as if a spotlight was suddenly shining on the two of you, highlighting the tension and the unspoken words. He couldn't bring himself to look at you, his eyes still glued to the floor, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously in his lap.

After a few moments, he finally spoke up, his voice a low murmur.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?"

Your eyes were fixed on his face, trying to intimidate him with your intense gaze and it worked since he spoke up first. Giving you the chance to respond instead of addressing the fact that you were mad, rightfully so. "Should i be mad at you? It's not your duty to pick me up and drop me places." you spoke casually before adding "That's for Kie.." you whispered, a small mocking smile tugging at your lips.

JJ clenched his jaw, a mixture of annoyance and guilt flashing across his face. He knew your words were meant as a subtle dig, and it stung. The mention of Kiara in the context of picking you up and dropping you off sent a pang of guilt through him, but he refused to let it show. He met your gaze with a defiant glare, his voice firm and defensive.

"I promised I'd pick you up," he bit out, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You rolled your eyes, your façade dropping slightly as he stated the obvious thing, looking out to the side at the dark window, fingers playing with the frame of your glasses. "Right.. don't worry your pretty little head about it. I had a blast walking here at night with a storm warning interrupting my music every ten minutes.."

JJ felt a wave of guilt wash over him as you described your walk home, the storm warning and the danger that had come with it. His jaw clenched tighter, his eyes locking on your face as you looked out the window, his heart starting to pound in his chest. His own words, cocky and nonchalant, played back in his head, making him feel like a total jackass.

He didn't respond at first, his voice quiet when he spoke up again, his voice tinged with guilt.

"Why... why didn't you just call an Uber..?"

Your eyes snapped back to his face, brows furrowing in barely contained anger. God, you were so ready to snap. "Because i don't have the money, blondie. Not like your girlfriend. She can just call an Uber or get in her car and go places while all i have in my name is a stupid, old skateboard. Which by the way, i didn't have with me because i took the bus this morning. And then you promised to pick me up, so i didn't bring with me to work."

JJ's jaw clenched as you snapped at him, your words hitting every guilt button he had for the last hour. His cocky demeanor crumbled for a split second, guilt flashing across his face before it was quickly concealed. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze as you spoke about your lack of money and means of transportation.

He had never really thought about the difference in your and Kiara's financial situations before, and the realization made him feel like the biggest douchebag.

"I'm.. sorry," he mumbled.

He had never realized the disparity between your financial situations and Kiara's. The fact that you had to rely on the pogues' Twinkie for rides and couldn't simply call an Uber or hop in your own car like Kiara, who had the financial means to do so. And he had completely overlooked the fact that you had even taken the bus instead of bringing your skateboard just because he promised to pick you up.

Seeing how upset it made you, how much it pissed you off, made him feel like a complete and utterly thoughtless jackass. He felt guilty as hell.

Which you didn't care about. You could see the guilt written all over his face but the anger coursing through you was way too strong to let him off the hook and accept his apology. Instead you just grunted in acknowledgement, looking to the side once again as you fidgeted with the small charms attached to your phone case, trying to relax your tense shoulders and expression.

JJ clenched his jaw, watching your reaction with a heavy heart. He could see the anger still burning in your eyes and the way you avoided his gaze as you fidgeted with the charms on your phone case. He wanted to reach out, to try and make amends, but he knew damn well that it was too early. You weren't ready to listen, let alone accept his apology.

He shifted on his seat, his muscles taut with tension, and swallowed hard.

".. are you really that pissed at me..?" He asked, his voice low.

"I'm just exhausted from work JJ." you mumbled, not looking at him and still choosing not to fully acknowledge him.

JJ's heart sank further at your response. The exhaustion in your voice was palpable, and it only added to the weight of his guilt. He knew damn well that he was partially to blame for your weariness. You'd taken the bus to work instead of bringing your skateboard just because he promised to pick you up. And now, instead of keeping his word, he'd completely neglected you to have a stupid date with Kiara.

He clenched his jaw, his guilt-ridden expression turning into frustration when you continued to avoid his gaze.

He let out a frustrated huff, his annoyance at your cold demeanor starting to get to him. He knew he didn't deserve for you to be all sweet and forgiving, but he wished you'd at least look at him and not just avoid his gaze like he was some sort of leper.

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he tried to catch your eye.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, damn it." He said, his voice a low, almost pleading whisper.

"You'll be fine." you spoke quietly, resting your chin on your palm, elbow propped on the arm of the lawn chair. "I can hear you just fine like this too.." you added.

JJ bristled at your response, frustration and regret building up in his chest. Your nonchalant, almost smug attitude only fueled his annoyance, and he wanted to shake you, to make you understand how guilty he felt for abandoning you for a date.

He sat up straighter, his expression hardening as he tried again.

"I don't just want you to hear me, I want you to look at me," he grumbled, his voice tinged with frustration and an undeniable hint of desperation.

But you didn't. The situation was slowly but surely escalating and you hated confrontation, especially when it came to your friends. Especially when it came to JJ. You were almost wishing that he would just go back to being anything but apologetic, your jaw clenching in irritation. "Don't make a big deal out of it JJ, i told you: 'you'll be fine.'"

JJ's annoyance flared at your nonchalant response, his frustration reaching a boiling point. He was tired of you acting like he hadn't monumentally screwed up and left you hanging, walking all the way to the Chateau alone at night.

He let out a frustrated huff, his hands clenching into fists in his lap as he tried once more to make you look at him.

"How can you say 'don't make a big deal out of it'? I'm trying to apologize and you're acting like a total... douche."

Now your eyes finally snapped to his, to make sure you actually heard him right and that he was indeed still holding onto his audacity and somehow blaming you. "And maybe i don't wanna accept your apology. Ever think of that, goldilocks?" you asked, quiet venom dripping from your words. "I have free will and I'm allowed not to. Especially when you call me a 5th grade insult like 'douche' while doing so."

JJ met your gaze with a mixture of anger and frustration, his temper flaring at your response. He was already feeling guilty, and your coldness and refusal to accept his apology only added fuel to the fire.

He clenched his jaw, his whole body tensing as he bristled at your remark.

"Oh, so now I'm not allowed to call you out for being a dick just because I'm trying to apologize? That's real fair." He retorted, his voice rising slightly, his guilt making way for anger.

"Excuse for being mad at lil' ol' you.." you mumbled in a sickly and mockingly sweet tone before your face dropped in anger again. "Didn't know we were playing the fair field here.. Thought you made it obvious we weren't, when you left me to walk home at night to prolong your date.."

JJ's anger flared once again, his guilt turning into irritation and defensiveness. He knew he was in the wrong, knew he had screwed up, but he couldn't help himself from feeling like you were just twisting the knife deeper.

He clenched his jaw, his voice coming out as a low, frustrated hiss.

"Oh, so that's what this is about? You're angry because I was too busy on a date instead of giving you a ride home? Is that it?" He snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm and irritation.

You leaned back, forcing your shoulders to relax despite the feeling in your stomach building up to a level of almost being sick. Was it jealousy? anger? the anxiety you felt while walking home that didn't die down even as you were inside the house, safe? You didn't know which. But you had to keep the situation from escalating, or else you'd actually end up admitting that you were in fact not happy for JJ and Kie for getting together, like you stated earlier. "No. But you know what? If that's what you think this is.. Jealousy. Maybe you should just continue being mad. I'm too exhausted to argue with you right now."

JJ clenched his jaw, his irritation only further fueled by your denial. He could see the tension in your shoulders, the subtle signs in your body language that betrayed your true feelings no matter how hard you tried to maintain a façade of nonchalance.

He let out a bitter scoff, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Right," he sneered, his eyes narrowed. "You're too exhausted because I left you to walk home all alone, but not too exhausted to act like a petty, jealous little.." he paused, letting the insult hang in the air.

You paused, eyes narrowing at his unsaid insult and at the fact that despite you trying to not let the situation escalate, he was making that very hard. "You're way too full of yourself." you stated, your words tight with barely contained anger.

JJ's irritation flared at your response, his muscles tensing as your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth, a biting comeback right on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle in his cheek twitched.

He took a deep breath, his voice coming out as a low, barely controlled whisper.

"Are you really gonna sit there and act like you're not pissed off that I was out on a date instead of picking you up and dropping you home? That I was prioritizing Kiara instead of you?"

You knew what he was trying to do. Called it from the beginning of this stupid conversation. Because if there was anyone on the planet that knew JJ more than he knew himself, it was you. He wanted a reaction from you. Thrived on it. JJ was a guy who thrived in fast paced environments and loved commanding attention and emotions to his will. Maybe that was because just like you, he never really had any control over important aspects of his life, so he would make up for that fact by messing with people and drawing reactions from them. That was his nature. There was no changing JJ. Just like there was no changing you. You were the only person who didn't quite give him the satisfaction of a mindless reaction.

You shrugged, releasing the inside of your cheek from the tight grip of your teeth, exhaling to calm your anger down, at least by a notch so you could speak. "You want me to be?" you asked, a small mocking smile tugging at your lips, whispering the words in the same tone, careful not to attract the attention of the other pogues on the argument currently unfolding under their noses.

JJ clenched his jaw once again, your nonchalant attitude and mock-sweet tone of voice hitting him in a way that both fueled his anger and slightly impressed him.

He gritted his teeth as you spoke, his heart racing in his chest as he tried to keep his own voice down to not attract the attention of the others, trying not to give them a show in the process.

His intense gaze was fixed on you, studying your face with an almost desperate fervor, looking for any sign of vulnerability that he could exploit to get a proper reaction out of you.

He leaned slightly forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied you, his brain trying to find the words to get a rise out of you. And in an instant, he found it. A realization.

He let out a scoff, a bitter smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. I do. Maybe it pisses you off, doesn't it? That I chose Kiara over you. Maybe you're just jealous, aren't you?"

Obviously the words stung. They stung like when you'd try to learn a new skateboard trick and you ended up tripping in the process, scraping the first layer of skin off and leaving you with a big tender patch all over your knee. That's how you felt for the past week since Kie and JJ made it obvious they were an exclusive couple. It wasn't just the fact that he was trying to exploit it to make himself feel good, it was the fact that to some extent it was obvious. Still, the anger at his audacity blared so much stronger than the hurt you were feeling, jealousy and possible sadness making way for the adrenaline induced anger.

In spite of all that, you let out a small laugh, throwing your head back as you laughed momentarily. "It still baffles me J.." you started, shaking your head as if the words were merely part of a normal conversation, soft and reverent "How much of a dick you can be sometimes. I mean... you stood me up when you clearly promised, and somehow you managed to twist it enough to make it sound like I'm in the wrong for being mad at you. For not accepting a half assed apology... Like I'm jealous." you spat out the last part, your anger quiet and controlled yet a familiar sight for JJ.

JJ seethed as he watched you laugh, his irritation flaring at your words. He couldn't believe you were acting like he was the dick in this situation. He clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing as he tried to keep his anger in check.

His eyes narrowed as you continued, his heart rate spiking as you mentioned his half-assed apology and the fact that you didn't accept it. He wanted to snap, to yell at you that he was trying his best here, but something in your voice stayed his hand and made him listen instead.

He clenched his hands into tight fists in his lap, his knuckles turning white at the force of it. He hated how he found himself getting sucked into this argument, even though he knew it was his own fault. The fact you were being so reasonable, when he was trying so hard to poke and prod and push you into a reaction... it was infuriating, but also oddly attractive in a twisted way.

He took a deep breath, his voice coming out slightly more controlled than before.

"I'm trying to apologize, damn it. What more do you want from me?"

You shrugged once again, silently dismissing him once again. A genuine twisted smile spread over your lips for a moment before you schooled it back into condescension, satisfied that he didn't get a reaction out of you. "Maybe don't call me a petty, jealous little bitch indirectly.." you responded, your sigh coming out akin to a parent disappointed in their child.

JJ gritted his teeth, his irritation flaring at your cold, dismissive shrug and the condescending look you gave him. He clenched his hands into fists once more, his anger and frustration boiling to a point that he felt like he was going to burst if he didn't say something soon.

He let out a sharp huff, his voice low and biting as he shot you a glare.

"Well, it's not my fault if the shoe fits."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses. It did. The shoe fit. But he didn't have the right to point it out in the context of this conversation. Not when he was at fault and your main problem was the fact that he didn't keep his promise. Jealousy wasn't the main factor driving you into being mad at him. Because that was JJ's style not yours. If the roles were reversed and he was the one pathetically in love with you while you had a boyfriend, all but aware of his feelings for you; he'd be seething right now. He'd make it everyone's problem and would probably even try and ruin your relationship in a half ass, half thought through plan. You knew JJ. He didn't take well to jealousy and other feelings, reason why he tried to mess with the feelings of other people.

So the fact that you were sitting there, still managing to come to the group hangouts or go to parties with the pogues sent you a notch higher above JJ. And you liked that. A lot. It didn't mean that you weren't jealous and bitter, but unlike JJ you didn't have the emotional intelligence of a tea spoon. "God, you're such a goddamn man child.." you mumbled after rolling your eyes, yet another sigh escaping your lips.

JJ clenched his jaw, his fists clenching and unclenching as he listened to you insulting him and sighing at him, as if he were some child having a temper tantrum. And maybe, in a way, he was. But he wasn't going to admit that to you, or to anyone else.

He let out a frustrated huff, his voice coming out laced with anger and bitterness.

"Oh, I'm the man child? You're the one who's acting all pissed at me because I stood you up for a date. Grow up."

Instead of being hurt by this conversation, you chose to be amused by it. It was awfully amusing, especially since you were the one supposed to be mad and not the other way around. You let out a genuine snort of laughter, shaking your head as you studied his tense form on the couch in front of you, the desperate attempt at getting a reaction out of you. "Y'know what baffles me?" you mumbled between chuckles, "The fact that I'm literally pulling the stunt you're trying to pull on me. I'm getting a reaction out of you instead of the other way around. And you're oblivious to it. Instead of backtracking and just forgetting the whole thing, you keep adding shit that you're gonna be forced to apologize for later. Something that you clearly don't take well to.." you added, gesturing to him vaguely as you spoke the last part of your amused comment.

JJ felt his irritation growing with each quiet chuckle that escaped your lips, the sound making his heart race in his chest. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to force himself to remain stoic despite the feeling swirling through him.

He had started this argument with the intention of making you react, but you had managed to turn the tables on him again, and that was driving him crazy.

He huffed, his voice low and dark as he spoke. "You're messing with my head, you know that, right?"

Your grin widened with each word he spoke, nodding along. "Not my fault you're easy to read."

JJ felt his irritation flare once more at your grin, his heart racing in his chest as he clenched his fists tightly in his lap. He hated how easy you were able to get to him, how you had managed to manipulate the conversation into something else entirely.

He let out a scoff, his voice tense and low.

"Easy to read" his ass. He was the most closed off person around, always avoiding talking about his feelings. How the hell were you able to read him so easily all the time?

He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the messy strands as he looked away, his eyes scanning the room, trying to distract himself with something, anything, other than your damn annoying smug face.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could say anything, Pope's awkward cough cut through the air, breaking the tension between the two of you in the process.

JJ's head snapped up, his attention now directed towards Pope, who was casually sitting on the armrest of the couch, on the opposite end from him clearly having been watching the exchange from the start.

Pope shot him an amused look, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips, and JJ had a sudden urge to wipe it off his face… with a punch. Instead, he just gritted his teeth and said nothing, his gaze flickering towards you for a brief moment before returning to his friend.

You directed the grin at Pope, openly satisfied that he was also amused at the fact that you managed to shut JJ up. You turned around and just as you were expecting, John B, Sarah and Kie were standing by the table listening in intently too, the beer pong game long forgotten.

JJ felt his irritation increasing exponentially now that he realized that all your friends had been listening to the whole thing unfold, watching as you turned around to face the rest of the pogues with a victorious grin on your face.

He couldn't help but shoot each of them a glare, silently cursing the fact that his plan to get a reaction out of you had failed so spectacularly. Pope continued to watch the situation unfolding with a smirk, clearly enjoying the show. John B's expression was neutral, although there was a flicker of concern in his eyes, and Kiara looked… amused.

In spite of all, of shutting down JJ victoriously and managing to play off the whole situation off, you still felt the dull sting of JJ's words. You knew that they were mostly things said in anger, his way of dealing with the guilt he felt for standing you up like that. In a sense he was acting like a man child. To put simply big feelings scared JJ and he liked to mostly do all his thinking with the lower head instead of the perfectly working one on his shoulders. You knew that a little silent treatment would have him apologizing in a heartbeat but what hurt more was that this time they were true.

Since him and Kie made it obvious that they were officially the second couple of the group, after John B and Sarah, you had managed to find excuses to not hang out with the pogues as much. Disassociating on hang outs to avoid looking at him while he made out with his girlfriend, or watching the two of them sneak off at parties wasn't exactly the fun you were hoping to have that summer. So you took to sneaking off too. Whether it was keggers or kook house parties, you managed to get blackout drunk for over 3 times in the past week. It wasn't entirely fun either. Especially when you started finding yourself in the orbit of Rafe.

Sex with Rafe was good, almost too good. You were clearly physically attracted to each other, an attraction that you didn't really know the source of and one that made you very guilty afterwards. That night when you got spiked, he managed to surprise you in a way that made you feel even guiltier. Because he didn't act like the Rafe you knew and grew to hate. He helped you out and in the haze of the realization that you could've died from alcohol poisoning and drug overdose in a random ditch on the island if he didn't find you, all you could do was sleep with him. Again. Because there was no space for verbal gratefulness or emotional shit. Not when all of that space was filled with hatred and annoyance. It was stupid. This was the same guy that hated your social class with a passion and hunted them for sport and fun. So why the fuck was he interested in perturbing your bubble and floating around in your shitty, cheap orbit?

That night went by without any more arguments between you and JJ, choosing to keep your distance so he could compartmentalize his emotions. You played beer pong, and then some Uno while tipsy and before you knew it, Pope had left to go home with the pretext that he didn't wanna be stuck here if the upcoming storm had gotten worse. Which was code for basically abandoning you with two horny, drunk couples in the chateau, who will probably be fucking until they passed out while you slept on the ratty couch in the living room. And you were almost sure you were gonna sleep through the whole night, given you were tipsy enough to fall asleep after sitting still for ten minutes.

But you weren't lucky enough, it seemed. Because you stirred awake, the sound of the rain pattering against the old roof of the chateau pulling you out of your sleep. The wind wasn't all that strong, not enough to send you into a hurricane scare, but you could tell the storm wasn't here to play. You propped yourself up on your elbows, not bothering to reach for your glasses on the coffee table since it was almost pitch black in the living room. Great, so the power was out. No wifi, no electricity and probably no signal for mobile data. You looked around for a few moments, slinging your feet on the floor and leaning against the couch in a sitting position. You rubbed your hands over your tired face, head pounding duly from the alcohol. You should've threw up before sleeping. And then you heard it.

The room that JJ hogged as his in the chateau didn't exactly have the thickest walls. So now that he was sharing it with Kiara, the two of them clearly restless and giggly when they went inside to "sleep", you could hear everything. They weren't being exactly obscene per se, but you could make out what was happening even in your groggy state and it made your stomach twist violently. JJ's grunts and occasional comments reverberated through the thin walls in the dead silence of the living room. God, were you just gonna have to stand here on the couch with no phone or electricity having to listen to the guy you were in love with fuck his girlfriend? And not to mention that she wasn't being exactly shy about letting him know how good of a job he was doing.

You were doomed. Quite literally sentenced to sit there, unable to go back to sleep or distract yourself with your phone as JJ and Kie had drunk sex in the room a few feet away. You sighed, turning to look out the window and the sounds of the rain matched the way it was pouring down. You could walk home right? Murderers didn't really like to kill in storms like these, you were the only one thinking about even going out there in these weather conditions. Who were you kidding. Most murders happened on rainy and stormy nights. But you weren't gonna sit there and take it (quite frankly more lamely than Kie currently was.) So you rose up to you feet after putting on your sneakers and hoodie, grabbing your glasses off the coffee table along with your phone and slung your backpack over your shoulders.

You put your hood on, as if the piece of fabric was gonna shield you from the pouring rain and made a beeline for the front door. You didn't bother with being quiet since JJ and Kie were too occupied at the moment and John B and Sarah were probably asleep already. Or maybe they were just being quiet. You didn't wanna stick around to find out.

Meanwhile, back in the small room occupied by JJ and Kiara, things were heating up quickly. The storm outside was a mere background to the sounds coming from within, the room filled with grunts and moans, Kiara's laughter and JJ's low curses with no idea of the fact that you were leaving. JJ grunted, his hand tightening its grips where it had been holding Kie's hip, the sound of the rain and the lightning outside barely registering in his mind, completely focused on the girl underneath him. This was the best way to handle his conflicting emotions, this was the best distraction from the anger and guilt swirling in his chest.

As you reached the front door and pulled it open carefully, a particularly loud cry of pleasure sounded from the room behind you, the sound reverberating through the house. Maybe even through your soul. Which quickly pushed you to make up your mind and step out of the house into the rain, hand instantly shooting up to try and shield your glasses from getting wet.

The only person insane enough to be out in the streets, let alone drive on these weather conditions was none other than Rafe. He didn't really have a choice, giving the scuffle he created back at Topper's house, and the headlights of his SUV were barely strong enough to help him against the darkness in front of him and the rain pattering against the windshield, the water droplets laying on the glass like a thick layer of veil. His bruised knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, ignoring the pain that shot through him when he did so. He was still drunk, but more than anything he was still angry. At the storm raging outside? At the fact that Topper literally kicked him out of the house for doing something inherently righteous? He didn't know himself.

He let out a sigh, the sound a mix between annoyance and relief as he saw his house loom in the distance, the white paint a stark contrast to the darkness of the sky. He was relieved to have finally made it home (without crashing or getting pulled over) and he was more than ready to just shower, change quickly and pass out. Until he saw you. At first, when he pulled into the driveway he didn't recognize you, not with the hood on your head. He was more than sure that it was a burglar, someone trying to break in using the storm advantage and his adrenaline and anger induced brain was ready to step out of the car and beat the dude to a pulp under the pretext of self defense.

But then you turned around, facing the car and the headlights shone over you face, causing your glasses to glimmer in the light momentarily and he calmed down partially. What confused him was the fact that you looked just as confused as he felt, unsure of what exactly you were doing at his house. As if he was the one that called you here. He wasn't.

Your walk home was uncomfortable, to say the least. Your hoodie was doing little to protect you from the heavy rain, your hair sticking to your forehead and your glasses becoming almost useless with the amount of water on the lenses. However there was no way you were turning back around, you'd rather get drenched completely than endure even another second in the chateau, listening to JJ and Kiara.

Your thoughts were swirling in your brain, each one more spiteful and bitter than the last. You didn't really pay attention where you were going, too focused on getting home as quickly as possible and ignoring the sound of lightning and thunder erupting and tearing the sky above you. How you thought it was a good idea to walk all the way to Rafe's was beyond you. Especially with the state you were in and the walkable weather. But seeing your mother had locked the back and front door, and you weren't exactly able to slip through the windows or in the possession of a spare key, your last option was... Rafe. You were sure he was already home and despite the long walk to Figure Eight, you still didn't really know what to tell the older Cameron. To explain why the hell you were at his house in the middle of the night, during a freakish storm, still wearing the clothes you left work with.

When Rafe saw you at the foot of the driveway, his surprise was evident. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion and he squinted through the rain to check if his alcohol-addled brain was playing tricks on him. But no, it was you, standing there in the pouring rain like a wet stray dog. He sighed, shutting off his headlights and stepping out of the car.

He was immediately hit with the heavy downpour, the rain soaking through his clothes and chilling his skin in mere seconds. He walked towards you, his long strides eating up the distance between you quickly.

He came to a stop a few feet away from you, his gaze flickering over your wet form. His eyes taking in the way your sodden hoodie clung to your body and your soaked glasses, your hair sticking to your forehead. He was also soaked through, the fabric of his shirt sticking to his toned frame, the water running down his face and dripping off the end of his nose.

"What the hell are you doing out there, are you insane or something?"

You watched as he turned off the car the headlights no longer blinding you. So he wasn't at home, you thought. Driving on these conditions also explained why he wasn't replying to your texts. Which you caved in and decided you were in dire need of sending. You were almost ready to turn around and walk back all the way to the Cut, risking getting pneumonia, before he pulled to a stop in the driveway. Effectively freezing you in your spot. Now your brain was actually empty as he asked you the question you dreaded the past 15 minutes standing awkwardly in his driveway.

You shifted in your spot, pressing your lips together as you struggled to put aside your pride and just tell him the reason you were here. Which of course he didn't care about, because why would he? And technically speaking you left the chateau unreasonably, no one in their right mind was walking outside at night, on a storm. Not even out of jealousy and bitterness. And the fact that you actually went through with it and walked over to his house baffled you as much as it baffled him.

"I texted you like 5 times." you raised your voice over the sounds of the rain, the statement being the only one that you had enough courage to yell out.

Rafe clenched his jaw as you spoke, his annoyance with you quickly flaring up. Though, he was more confused than anything. He ignored the way his wet clothes clung to him uncomfortably as he took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing in irritation.

"First of all, you can ditch the attitude. I didn't see your texts." He said, his voice rising above the pouring rain. "And second, why the hell are you here and not at home in your own damn bed like a normal person?!"

Your eyes roamed over his form, at first with the intent to subtly check him out before you tried to deflect again but something caught your eye. There were small splatters of blood on his shirt, the crimson stains a stark contrast against the white wife beater he was wearing. Which you didn't remember him wearing at the country club. Your eyes flicked back to his face, features twisting in confusion, knowing what you saw despite the wet glasses and low visibility.

"To be honest i don't have an answer to that question myself!" you spoke, your voice rising to match his over the rain, and not to give him attitude like he thought. "Is this a bad time?! I'm not helping you to hide any bodies, just so you know..!" you added, nodding vaguely towards his shirt, a shitty attempt at covering your unease with humor.

He glanced down at his chest, cursing under his breath when he realized the dark spots of blood soaking through his white tank top. He should've changed his shirt, this was just idiotic now. He looked back at you, a mixture of anger and annoyance in his gaze, your attempt at humor not going over his head.

"Don't worry about the blood. And no, it's not a bad time." He said, though his voice was gruff. "Just get in the goddamn house. Before you catch pneumonia or something."

You stood there, as if debating between turning around and going back to the chateau once again due to your unease from his brushing you off, or actually following his orders. He looked tense, and angry you could tell that much from knowing him so little. And you were definitely worrying about the blood now that he was trying to brush it off so quickly. But the part that didn't want to walk back to the chateau eventually won out, and you turned towards the glass doors of his house, quickly stepping into the dark house. You looked around at the dark surroundings while he followed suit, despite having been over at the Cameron's multiple times, pulling your hood off your head and removing your glasses. Were you making a mistake? You knew Rafe wasn't entirely sane, so your allusion at murder wasn't entirely far fetched. But you figured even killers had cooldowns. At least that's what you told yourself to help with the unease.

Rafe followed you into the house, the glass sliding door shutting behind him with a loud slam. The sound of the storm outside became a faint background noise, the quiet interior of the Cameron's large house suddenly feeling a lot more claustrophobic. He watched as you pulled your hood off your head, your damp hair sticking to your forehead. He let out a sharp exhale, his eyes roaming over your face and body briefly, trying to figure out why you were here.

His gaze then landed on your glasses in your hand, his eyes narrowing.

He crossed the distance between you in a single stride, his hand snatching the soaked glasses from your grip, his movements almost aggressive. Despite his touch being firm and rough, he held the glasses in a gentler grip, his eyes tracing the frame and the lenses. He was almost worried that it got damaged. He ran a thumb over the glasses, the action almost tender and caring. But once he realized what he was doing, his eyes snapped up to your face, his expression hardening once again.

"You're drenched from head to toe."

Your eyes followed his movements as he snatched the glasses from your grip, turning to face him almost cautiously. "Well.. it's raining, in case you haven't noticed.." you gestured behind him towards the glass doors, your voice weak and unsure, but still sarcastic.

He shot you a glare, his annoyance flaring up again at your sarcastic remark. He rolled his eyes, the movement almost dramatic, as he started towards his room upstairs. He grabbed your arm as he went, dragging you behind him. He didn't bother with turning the lights on as he led you through the dark house, only illuminated by the occasional flashes of lightning, up the grand staircase.

Once they were inside, he slammed the door of his room behind you. He then turned to look at you, his eyes scanning over your soaked form in the moonlight seeping through his curtains behind him.

The house, which usually was beautiful and grandiose, looked ominous and dark. Vacant, like in a horror movie. You blinked in surprise as he still held onto your glasses, his free hand wrapping around your wrist and dragging up the stairs onto the dark second floor of the house. Okay, now you were definitely regretting this. Not only was he acting cryptic and strange, movements full of anger and body tense. But the his bloody tank top and the fact that he didn't really address it deepened your unease. Not that he had to. You weren't even sure why you were here. You weren't exactly dating or friends, so showing up unannounced like this definitely caught him off guard.

Your eyes were fixed on his back as he was walking in front of you up the stairs, anxiety coiling in your stomach like a snake. Once you reached his room, you gave his bedroom an once over, the familiar sight making you feel even more on edge, a mix of guilt and flight or fight pressing down on your chest. You looked over the bed in the middle of the room, and then at the clothes sprawled on the foot of it and on the chair at his desk, eyes finally landing on the small bar further into the room. "So.. you're not gonna murder me for showing up here, right?" you asked looking back at him, and you didn't know if the question was another lame attempt at humor or genuine.

Rafe's expression was stoic as he watched your eyes dart around the room, noticing how tense you looked. He could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of you, even if you were trying to play it cool and make jokes. He ignored the question at first, his eyes fixing on your wet body for a moment, his gaze feeling almost predatory as it roamed over the curves of your soaked hoodie. Then he broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Take off your clothes." was all he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your brows raised in surprise at his command, shifting in your spot uncomfortably, a stark contrast from your usual demeanor. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? "Uh.. no, i'd rather get killed in my clothes.." you mumbled weakly, lips twitching up in a smile that didn't hold any amusement or casualness.

Rafe's irritation grew at your response, his jaw clenching. He took a slow, purposeful step towards you, closing the distance between you and towering over you with his tall frame.

"This isn't a joke, dumbass. You're soaked and probably going to get sick. Now. Strip." He said, his voice leaving no room for argument, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze hard and intense, leaving no room for debate.

You tensed up when he stepped closer, your eyes drifting back to the blood stains on his tank top before flickering back to his face. Without your glasses your vision was blurry and unfocused at the edges, but you could still see the small cut on his lip and the small bruise on his cheek. Which if this was in any other circumstances, maybe you'd strip. But your gut feeling made you want to stand your ground. "Yeah well.. i'd prefer to do it in the bathroom, preferably while you're out here..." you whispered before adding almost desperately, wanting to clarify. "-lending me a change of clothes.."

He clenched his jaw, his hands clenching into fists at his side, frustration and anger boiling under the surface. He was tempted to grab you and drag you across the room to the en suite bathroom himself, to toss you into the shower and then manhandle you until you listened, taking care of you himself. But he held back, if only slightly, understanding that it'd make everything even weirder.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw flexing before sighing, his hands reaching up to run through his messy hair. Then he took a few steps backwards, dropping himself down on the edge of the bed.

You watched as he stood on the of the bed, your own stance awkward by the door. You weren't sure what to do, you'd never had to deal with this kind of Rafe. Never had the chance to. There were so many questions floating through your mind, and the fact that he was still holding onto your glasses made it even worse. A part of you wanted to tell him that he was slightly scaring you, but you thought against it, reaching up to fidget with the damp string of your hoodie.

He rested his elbows on his knees, his fingers running through his messy and quite damp hair, his eyes fixating on you by the door. You looked like a wet cat, your clothes sticking to your body and hair tangled in messy strands, your glasses in his hand. He found himself thinking again how much he wanted to throw you into the shower and dry you off. Take care of you. Like he did earlier tonight, unknowingly to you. He felt almost angry at the thought. But the sight of you fidgeting with the string of your hoodie only made it worse.

"Just go use my bathroom to change, dumbass." He repeated.

You watched him intently, as much as you could without your glasses and you found yourself humming in agreement, but not moving just yet. "What.. what happened?" you asked, brows furrowing slightly.

He sighed, his eyes flickering up and locking with yours in the dimly lit bedroom. He could hear the genuine concern in your voice, but he felt defensive and closed off at the question. His eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw clenching as he debated how much to tell you, if anything at all.

"Got into a fight." He answered simply, the partial truth slipping off his tongue easily. "Why do you care anyway?" He added with a touch of bite to his tone

Your expression twitched slightly, looking down at your soaked sneakers as you scratched your temple. You didn't, not really anyway. You didn't even know where the question came from. Maybe from your anxiety, which dimmed down considerably as he told you he got into a fight. Still there was something in his demeanor that just... put you off. He looked like a man that didn't get enough punches in, anger still rolling off of him in waves. "I was just making sure i wasn't about to-" sleep with a murderer? you finished internally, speaking up after a few seconds, "well.. just making sure i wasn't gonna be your second victim tonight.."

He huffed out a short, sharp laugh as you spoke, shaking his head slightly, his gaze not leaving your small frame. He felt a pang of guilt and annoyance at your words, knowing he kind of deserved it. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. Despite his anger, there was a hint of playful irritation at your sarcasm.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You're not a target." He said with a touch to sarcasm in his own voice, his eyes flickering over your body once more. "Just a nuisance."

He leaned back on his hands, his eyes still flickering over you. His gaze was intense and almost predatory as he continued to take in the sight of you in the dim light of the bedroom. The way your wet clothes clung to your body, the way your hair was sticking to your face, the way your eyelashes clung together after being soaked. It was all driving him insane. He wanted to take you, right here and now. Take all that pent up frustration and anger out on you.

Although those two statements sounded more like the Rafe you knew and hated (usually,) the way he was silently watching you after, made you squirm in your spot. Not to mention you felt vulnerable without your glasses. And foolish for coming here without a clear reason as to why. "..Right." you muttered weakly after a few moments, pressing your lips in a thin line.

He raised an eyebrow at your nervous fidgeting, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He noticed the way you squirmed under his gaze, and it only fuelled the burning heat in his gut. He pushed himself off the bed, his eyes fixed on you as he slowly walked closer. He was like a hunter stalking his prey, his movements slow and predatory, as if trying to get you to run so he could chase you.

He stopped right in front of you, towering over you with his tall, broad frame.

He reached out, his fingers hooking under your chin, tilting your head back slightly so he could study your face from a different angle. His eyes roamed your face, taking in every detail, the way your eyelashes clung together, the way water droplets dripped from your hair onto your face. He was acutely aware of the way you were shifting, fidgeting, and avoiding his gaze. It only made him want to tease you even more.

"You look like a wet puppy." He said, his voice low. Amused. A hint of mockery in his tone.

You tensed up when he stepped closer, brows furrowing slightly when he tilted your face up to look at him, eyes roaming over his face, which was a little less blurry now that he was closer. His damp hair was sticking to his forehead and his eyes were a bit blown out, blazing in simmering anger. "Thanks.." you responded to his mocking statement, biting back the remark that was threatening to slide off your tongue.

His smirk grew into a sly grin, his thumb tracing over your chin, his fingers still gripping your chin, holding your head in place. He could see the defiant response on the tip of your tongue, the snarky attitude that he knew too well. And it only fueled the fire inside him. He enjoyed you like this, off balance and a little on edge. It made him want to see just how far he could push you before you broke.

He chuckled, leaning in slightly, his face now mere inches from yours.

He was close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your face, his eyes locked on you with an intense, almost hungry look in them. "You're quiet tonight." He murmured, his thumb still tracing circles over your chin. "Usually I'd have to shut you up by now. But you're just standing there. Like a good little girl." He teased with a touch of mockery in his voice. He enjoyed seeing you like this. A little more submissive. A little less hostile. A little more pliable and tame.

"Cause you're low-key scaring me.." you retorted back quietly, breath hitching as he leaned in, eyes drifting down to his split lip before trying to focus into his eyes.

A hint of surprise flashed across his face before he could stop the reaction. He wasn't used to you being honest about your feelings. He was used to your snark and sarcasm, and that was the version of you he was used to dealing with. But this? This was new. He wasn't expecting it. It made him feel an odd mixture of guilt and irritation.

He chuckled, his grip on your chin tightening slightly as he tilted your head up more, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment before meeting yours again.

He studied the expression on your face, the slight hint of fear mixed with the defiant look in your eyes. He knew he was scaring you, and it should have stopped him. But he couldn't stop himself. Your mouth was slightly parted, your breath hitching as you spoke, and he suddenly found himself having the urge to taste you. To see if you would melt into him like melted butter like you usually did.

He chuckled again, amused at your response, as he leaned in even closer, his mouth hovering just above yours. "Me? scaring you? That's a first.. You're not stepping back , cowering in fear so i assume you enjoy it.."

You chuckled breathlessly at his words, despite the mocking undertone of the reply. Your anxiety was dissipating slowly as his finger continued to rub circles in your skin, eyes narrowing as if you were expecting him do something. "Right.. i enjoy not knowing if you wanna fuck or murder me.." you muttered in amused sarcasm, the focus of your eyes shifting between his blue ones.

He laughed, a dark, genuine laughter that rumbled through his chest. He enjoyed seeing the change in your demeanor, how your fear was starting to melt away and return to the usual snark and sass. It was familiar, and it felt more like the dynamic he was used to between the two of you. He smirked again, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something else, something more. The words you said sent a jolt straight to his gut.

"Can it be both?" He teased, his thumb moving from your jaw to your lips, tracing them lightly.

"Depends in what order.." your eyes narrowed almost mischievously, eyes moving over his face intently.

He chuckled, a sly grin spreading over his face. He was enjoying your little back and forth, the way you challenged him even when you were scared. He couldn't help but admire your sass, your ability to keep up with his playful banter, even when the situation was slightly more serious than usual.

"Hmm… murder and then a good, hard, rough -" He paused, his thumb still tracing your lips. He leaned in closer, his mouth now close to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper as he continued.

"-fuck. How does that sound to you?" His hot breath ghosted over your ear as he continued, his thumb still tracing your lips and his body pressed firmly against yours. He could hear the slight hitch in your breathing, feel the heat radiating off your skin, and it only made his desire grow. He was enjoying the feeling of pushing you to your limits, of teasing you until you broke and gave in.

You raised one brow even though he couldn't see it, a small grin tugging at your lips. "Why are you asking me as if I'd be alive for it.." you muttered, a small chuckle following your words.

He chuckled again, the smirk on his face growing wider. He enjoyed the way you could always find a witty comeback, even when he was trying to tease you into submission. He knew that deep down, you would enjoy it just as much as he did. He pulled back slightly, his hands moving to rest on your hips, his grip tight and possessive as he looked down at you.

"You'd be alive enough." He replied, his voice a low, seductive murmur as he continued. "You'd be screaming my name and begging for mercy."

Your face twisted in amusement even further, another chuckle escaping your lips. "What is this? are we in 'Scream'? you wanna play psycho killer as foreplay?" you asked teasingly, eyes drifting down to the blood on his damp tank top. "Please don't kill me mister ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel.." you feigned fear, sighing.

He laughed out loud at your response, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. He found your sense of humor utterly amusing, even during moments like this. He always marveled at your ability to switch from fear to sass so quickly. He found himself wanting to see how far he could push you before you snapped. He played along with your teasing, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"No, no. Ghostface is a pussy. He wears a robe and a shitty halloween mask. I prefer my hand around your pretty little neck, sweetheart."

Your brows raised for a moment, before you schooled your expression once again, your eyes drifting back down to his lips "I dunno... you give me 'i own a ghostface mask and i like to fuck girls with it on' vibes.." you stated, looking back up at him.

He let out a loud genuine laugh, finding your comment both humorous and provocative at the same time. He was enjoying the witty banter between the two of you, the way your sarcasm and sass fueled his own. He smirked and shook his head slightly, his eyes locked on yours. His hands were still gripping your hips possessively, his body pressed firmly against yours as he responded.

"I can assure you I do not own a ghostface mask, sweetheart. My fetishes are way more interesting than that."

You pouted in mock disappointment, shaking your head as if he'd broke the most devastating news to you. You continued to get more surprised of your conversations with Rafe escalated. And how ridiculous they were sometimes. I mean, here you were, standing in the middle of his room, at three in the morning most likely, on a storm, all drenched. And maybe still a little uneasy. "Aww man, and here i thought you were gonna put the mask on for me.." you whispered.

His smirk grew into a wicked grin, finding your exaggerated disappointment utterly amusing. He chuckled as he responded, his hands moving from your hips and sliding upwards over your soaked hoodie, tracing over your body in a possessive gesture. His fingers danced over your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake under your clothes as he continued to hold your gaze.

"Is that what you want, sweetheart? You want me to wear a mask while I rail you against the wall? Cause I absolutely could…" He smirked, his eyes darkening with desire.

His hands continued to roam over your body, his touch growing more possessive and almost needy as he continued to hold you close. He loved seeing the effect he had on you, the way you looked at him with a mixture of desire and fear. Your soaked clothes clung to your body, and he couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked, even drenched from the storm outside. As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder boomed outside, the storm outside getting more aggressive.

Despite the fact that you probably should've turned back around the moment you saw him step out of the car and noticed the blood staining his shirt, his demeanor tense and angry, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck lazily. He leaned in slightly, nosing at your jaw in a way that almost made your knees buckle. The warmth of his body seeped through your damp clothes, your arms wrapping just a little bit tighter around his neck as you spoke, "I wouldn't be opposed to some mask action... Think I'd deserve it given you wanna murder me.."

He chuckled, feeling your grip tighten around his neck, the way your body pressed against him making his own knees feel weak. He couldn't deny that he loved the feel of your body against him, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms. He let out a hum, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin on your neck before responding, his voice dripping with desire and need.

"Oh, you'd definitely deserve it." He murmured against your skin. "But first, I need to dry you off."

He shifted his grip on you, his arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you up effortlessly, holding you against him. He could feel the dampness of your clothes against his bare skin, reminding him of how drenched you were from the storm outside. He carried you to the bathroom, setting you down on the edge of the counter, his hands roaming over your body as he spoke.

"Let's get you out of these wet clothes, gorgeous."

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you towards the bathroom and set you on the counter beside the sink, your arms still wrapped around his neck loosely. "Aren't you gonna keep prying and ask me why i showed up to your door in the middle of a storm?" you asked, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

He chuckled, his hands roaming over your wet clothes, feeling the damp fabric against his skin. He loved the way you looked sitting on the counter, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. He loved having you close, feeling your body against his, the way your eyes narrowed in curiosity. He paused for a moment, his hands still on your body, before answering.

"Later", He replied, his voice a low whisper. "Right now I just want to get you out of these wet clothes and into a hot shower."

You let out an involuntary sigh as his ringed hands slid under your damp hoodie and crop top, the feeling of his warm and needy hands sending a pleasant shiver through your tense body. You hated the physical attraction you felt to Rafe, because no matter how much you'd try to fight it, you'd always end up in his arms and in his bed if you were alone more than 10 minutes. Being touch deprived was both a blessing and a curse because you could feel the heat blooming between your thighs every time he touched all the right places, the body clearly not giving any fucks about what the brain thought of Rafe or how guilty it felt after sleeping with him.

"In which I'm getting in alone, right?" you asked, the tone of your voice matching his, as you studied his face, the cut on his lip and the bruise on his left cheek.

He chuckled as he pulled your sodden clothes off leaving you only in your bralette and underwear, his eyes roaming over your body propped on the bathroom counter like he was taking in a work of art. He knew you were touch deprived, he could feel it in the way you leaned into his touch, how your body reacted to him. He enjoyed being the one to fill that need, the one you always ended up going back to in moments like this. He could see the mix of desire and guilt in your eyes, and it only fueled his own need for you.

"Are you sure you want to shower alone, sweetheart?" He asked.

Your eyes narrowed teasingly, in a way that was akin to pondering over his question before you spoke "Wouldn't that be too intimate? Showering together is a couple's thing.."

He chuckled at your teasing response, his hands still roaming over your bare skin, his eyes tracing every curve and dip of your body. He knew that you were trying to play coy, to act like you weren't just as affected by him as he was by you. And he loved the challenge.

"Oh really? So what's your excuse for always ending up underneath me?" He teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm and desire as he leaned in to nip at your neck, his lips tracing a path down your neck to your collarbone.

Well, you didn't really have a simple answer to that. Why him specifically? It could've been someone entirely different, someone less likely to get you to lose your friends if they found out who you were sleeping with on the low. Someone you hated less. "Simple.. the need of a distraction.." you mumbled, tilting your head back to allow him to kiss at your neck.

He chuckled against your neck, the vibrations sending a flutter of heat through your body as his lips continued to explore your skin. He could hear the note of guilt in your voice, the way you tried to justify your actions, but he chose to ignore it. For now, he was only concerned with the feel of your body against his, the way your body responded to his touch like a moth to a flame.

"Interesting." He murmured, his lips moving up to nibble at your ear." I didn't realize that I was just a distraction."

Another sigh like moan escaped your lips, your hands tightening around his neck to bury his face even further into the crook of your neck, fingers tangling in the damp hair at the nape of his neck, carding them through it lazily. "Yeah, isn't all this casual?" you asked quietly, words soft and breathless.

He hummed against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He loved the way your hands pulled him closer, the way your fingers tangled in his hair as you tried to keep your voice even and calm.

"Yeah, it's casual." He replied, his voice low and seductive, his warm breath sending a jolt of heat through your body. He knew it wasn't casual, not really. It was a twisted sort of non-relationship, fueled by desire, guilt, and a deep need to fill a void.

He continued to kiss and nibble at your neck, his hands roaming over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the dip of your waist. He could feel the heat between your legs, the way your body responded to him like it was made for him, despite the fact that he was just a "distraction."

"But I don't mind being your distraction." He murmured against your skin, his lips trailing back to your ear. "Not if it means I get to have you like this."

Your nose grazed his cheek slowly, pressing chaste kisses over his jaw between words. "Have you tried looking into therapy then..?" you asked almost mockingly, still playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

He chuckled at your question, his body shuddering under your gentle touches. He let out a low hum, his hands continuing to roam and explore your body as he replied.

"Therapy? Me, go to therapy?" He asked, feigning offense, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yeah, right. I'm not paying some stranger to try and fix my issues when I can do that by throwing punches and sleeping with you."

You chuckled, the sound shuddering in your throat as his fingers found the clasp of your bralette and undid it swiftly, discarding the black, lacy piece of fabric on the tiled floor of the bathroom like it was a rag. Your hips shifted on the counter to scoot closer to him, legs wrapping even more tightly around his middle, your chest pressing against his, slightly irritated at the fact that you were the only one topless. "But why? You can have a stranger diagnose you with alcoholism and a raging coke addiction, putting you on BPD medication.." you murmured almost condescendingly, still peppering kissing over and under his jaw.

He laughed at your little jab, enjoying the way you pressed yourself against him, the way your legs wrapped around his waist and your chest pressed against his. He loved the way you were trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed your true feelings. He could feel the heat between your thighs, the way your hips moved against his.

"Mmm, is that your professional diagnosis, baby?" He asked, his hands roaming over your bare back, tracing the sensitive skin of your spine. "Alcoholism, BPD, and a coke addiction… sounds about right."

You hummed in response, nodding against his skin as your fingers moved through the damp strands of his hair. The smell of alcohol and expensive cologne sent a new wave of heat through your body, nosing under his jaw gently. "So you're not denying being completely insane and bat shit crazy then?" you asked lowly, clinging to him in spite of feeling uneasy from his behavior earlier.

He chuckled at your observation, his hands continuing to roam over your bare back, his body moving to slot himself more firmly between your legs. Your touch and the way you clung to him, despite feeling uneasy, only fueled his already burning desire for you.

"Insane and batshit crazy? Me?" He asked, feigning innocence. "I prefer the term 'proactive'."

His words amused you slightly, a long and drawn out, knowing sigh leaving your lips "Oh, i know all about your proactiveness. That's your thing, right? Blaming the insane shit you do on being "proactive.." "

He chuckled again, the sound low and rough as he continued to hold you close. He loved the way you teased him, the way you knew him so well, despite the fact that you weren't supposed to. He pulled back slightly, looking at your face with a smirk, his eyes dark with desire.

"Yeah, that's my thing." He replied, his hands moving to caress your thighs, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin, igniting a fire within both of you. "I'm just a proactive type of person, dolly."

With a swift movement, he lifted you up in his arms, holding you against his body effortlessly. He started walking towards the shower, his steps confident and determined.

"And right now, I'm feeling very proactive." He added, his voice rough and low in your ear. "Would you like to know what I'm feeling proactive about?" he asked, his lips trailing back down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin.

"Taking off my underwear and your own clothes so we could shower?" you answered with a knowing question, smirking slightly as he carried you towards the shower effortlessly, legs and arms wrapping around him more securely.

He chuckled against your skin, loving the way you wrapped yourself around him, your body so willing and eager. He loved the way you knew exactly what he was thinking, the way you could read him like an open book.

"Oh, you're good, dolly." He murmured, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "You know me so well. You've got me figured out."

He reached the shower and set you on your feet, his hands reaching for the waistband of your underwear.

With a quick, fluid motion, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear, and pulled them down your legs, discarding them on the shower floor. His eyes roamed over your body appreciatively, admiring every curve and dip, taking in every detail of you like a starving man who just found a feast.

"God, you're so goddamn beautiful." He murmured, his voice laced with a mix of awe and desire, as he worked on removing his own clothes with quick, efficient motions. Just like you Rafe was desperate to bury his anger and confusion under sex, making your arrival perfect.

You swallowed as you watched him undress quickly, your eyes roaming over his abs and his chest, before you snapped them up to his face, teeth digging into your bottom lip. He stepped into the shower with shutting the door to it closed and not wasting time to crowd you, the heat of his skin pressing into yours. Thinking back to the few times you slept with Rafe, you realized that most of the stuff you did was so intimate and familiar, it made you feel even guiltier. You hated each other and each other's friends in the daylight but when it came to sex, you realized it was mostly on you now with how you seemed to act around each other during night time. Your desire to forget about JJ was pushing you into the arms of the person who spent most of his time picking on you, and you liked it.

You didn't dwell on any other emotions other than lust as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him for a kiss, all teeth and desperation, a low moan reverberating through your chest as you felt him kiss back almost instantly.

He pressed you up against the tile, the cold surface no match for the heat between you. His body pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of you like he had been craving this all day.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was all raw passion and heat, his tongue delving into your mouth like he was starving for you. A low, guttural moan escaped his throat as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him.

Your hands cradled the back of his head in a frenzy almost, trying to match and outdo his pace of the kiss. He slammed you gently against the cold tile wall of the shower, which caused you to grunt against his lips as the cold made contact with your flushed skin, but you quickly recovered. You squirmed against each other, hands desperately clutching at anything in their reach. In the midst of making out one of you had turned on the water, the feeling of the warm and steamy water seeping into your hair, a welcome one given it was damp from the cold rain.

Water cascaded over your bodies, the hot stream running over your skin and adding to the already rising heat between the two of you. His body caged you against the tile as he continued the kiss, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth, tasting and exploring you like a man drunk on desire. His hands continued to roam over your body, tracing every curve and dip, the feeling of your soft skin against his rough hands driving him wild with need.

One of his hands came up to cup your jaw, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss even further, his hips grinding against yours.

When his hips moved against you, almost pleading silently, one of your arms unwrapping from his neck as his hand cradled your face and snaking it in between the two of you to wrap around him. You didn't bother breaking the messy, wet kiss as your hand moved in purposeful strokes, determined to get a reaction out of him.

His eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly as you wrapped your hand around him, your touch sparking a wave of heat through him that shot straight to his core. A low, guttural sound escaped his lips, swallowed up by the kiss, but still noticeable as you continued to tease and touch him. His hips bucked involuntarily, his body reacting to your touch like a well-tuned instrument.

"Doll " he gasped, his voice ragged and hoarse, his lips moving down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin with wild, desperate hunger.

The small gasp he let out only fueled you more, glancing down between the two of you, watching your hand as it worked over his hardening cock in something akin to satisfaction and fascination. The warm water from the shower was pouring down your face, dripping from the tip of your nose and from your parted lips as you muttered "What?" simply, your breathing ragged as you paused to brush your thumb over his tip teasingly before resuming your purposeful strokes.

He stifled another gasp, his body shuddering under the combined sensations of the warm water and your touch. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails digging into your skin, leaving little red marks in their wake. You looked goddamn addicting like this, water running down your face, your voice ragged, and your touch determined and teasing.

He raised his head from your neck to look at you, his eyes darkened by a mix of desire and need, his mouth forming a smirk as if he was about to say something snarky.

But all that came out was a low, guttural moan as your thumb darted across the sensitive spot, sending a wave of pleasure shooting through his body. The combination of your touch, the water, and the look on your face was almost too much for him to handle.

"God damn it, dolly..." he muttered, his voice ragged and breathless. "You're gonna end up killing me."

"I'm trying to get you to finish.." you whispered back, your hand gripping the hair at the base of his neck as you continued your ministrations, the tight circle of your fist around him giving a small squeeze to drive him even more crazy. If there was anything that you loved in this world more than alcohol and making bad decisions, it was men who weren't afraid to be vocal. And Rafe was vocal alright. He gasped and groaned, moans and even whimpers leaving him once the two of you managed to do something. It was something you noticed rather quickly in the few times of sleeping with him, and it turned you on beyond belief.

He growled softly, a mix of pleasure and need, at your words and the way your hand continued to tease and work him. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ragged and uneven, his body trembling with desire.

"Are you trying to kill me, woman?" He gasped, his voice low and rough as he spoke. "Cause I swear I'm close to snapping."

Your eyes locked with his blue ones when he leaned his forehead against yours, the movements of your hand slowing down as your breathing continued to grow more heavy, brows knitting up slightly as the ache between your legs demanded attention. You unwrapped your hand from him, wrapping your arm around his neck loosely. "I'm just being nice.." you murmured, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He let out a small sound of protest at the loss of your touch, his body still on a high from the sensations you'd just inflicted on him. But as he noticed the look of need on your face, he understood what you were silently asking for. He didn't let you wait for long, his hands gripping your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly and pressing you against the shower wall.

"Oh, baby, I'm gonna be a whole lot more than just nice to you." He murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

He positioned himself between your legs, your back against the cool tile wall, your body pressed against his. His hands continued to hold you up effortlessly, his eyes locked on yours as he looked up at you, a mix of hunger and need in his gaze. He took a moment just to admire the sight of you, your wet skin, the drops of water running down your skin, and the need in your eyes.

"You want me to be nice, dolly?" He asked, the muffled words against your skin full of sweetness and sultriness, his lips moving to kiss and nibble at the sensitive skin of your neck.

You exhaled softly when you wrapped your legs around him and felt him slip inside just an inch, his words making your skin tingle in need. "Well you could try.. given you're usually not." you chuckled weakly, your words meant to be teasing but just coming out quiet and needy.

He chuckled against your skin, his grip on your thighs tightening as he slowly slid himself further inside you, your words and noises only fueling his own desire. He loved the way you were coming undone in his arms, your usual snark replaced by this needy, desperate need for him.

"You're gonna have to forgive me, dolly. I'm just not a very nice guy." He murmured against your neck, his lips and teeth tracing a path up to your ear, biting softly at the lobe as his heavy breathing echoed in your ears along with the water from the shower.

You tilted your head back against the tiled wall when he finally slid inside you, the small pain dissipating after a few moments, melting into pleasure. You let out a soft moan, the sound almost drowned out by the warm water still pouring over the two of you. "I'm barely nice myself, it's okay.." you murmured between ragged breaths and sighs.

He groaned as he slowly, torturously, started to move inside you, each motion sending waves of pleasure through him. He loved the way your body felt wrapped around him, the way your moans and sighs filled the shower, the hot water cascaded over the two of you but not nearly as hot as the heat clouding his mind with every thrust. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he spoke.

"Yeah, we're a pair of assholes, aren't we?" He replied, a shaky laugh escaping him.

He continued to move inside you, his pace slowly increasing as he held you against the tile, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, his lips finding your neck, his mouth hot and hungry against your skin. He bit and sucked at your neck, leaving small, possessive marks on your flesh.

"But god damn, dolly, you feel too good." He murmured, his voice low and needy, his breath hot against your skin. "I can't be nice, I can't be gentle, I can't be anything but just absolutely desperate for you."

You could feel his pace picking up, still feel the earlier anger lingering in his thrusts and the way he was holding onto you, and your body reveled in it. You loved that just for a moment, sex made you forget, especially with someone who was so goddamn good at it. You fought to keep your eyes open due to the pleasure and the water streaming down onto your face, trying to keep them fixed on his face. You were listening intently to his sounds, watching how with every thrust he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes back before he buried his face in the crook of your neck and it drove you even further. Even closer to a well deserved orgasm.

Your breathing was coming out in shallow pants, fanning against his shoulder as you managed to speak, "Sometimes being an asshole gets you far.. i mean-..." your words were cut off by a moan before you tried again "I mean look at you, you're nothing but an ass but you still manage to score.."

He chuckled against your neck, his body shuddering as he listened to your words, his pace picking up even more, his heart racing with desire and lust. He loved the sounds and words coming from you, the way your body was responding to him, the way you were completely undone in his arms.

"What can I say, baby. I'm an attractive dick." He murmured between gasps and pants, his lips finding your ear again, nipping at the lobe before replying.

"But I only have eyes for the biggest, prettiest, snarkiest, smart-mouthed dick on the whole island."

The way he sounded, the way he almost hit that spot inside you just about right with the position he had you in, it all made everything so much better. One of your hands buried itself in his wet hair ruffling through it and carding your fingers to keep your hand occupied, mouth hanging open as you could feel your orgasm approaching slowly. "Did you just call me..." you started, the snark melting out of the sentence and getting off by a whimper of pleasure "God you're so big.." you mumbled breathlessly, lolling your head back once again, eyes squeezed tight.

He let out a deep, guttural moan at your words, your fingers in his hair, your body responding so beautifully to every move he made. He was losing himself in you, in the sensations and the need and the heat between you, and your little gasps and whimpers were driving him insane.

"It's 'cause I'm trying to make up for being a dick in all other aspects." He managed to say, his voice shaky and hoarse from the pleasure and the effort.

He continued to move, his pace almost frenzied now, his body driven by the need to make you feel good, to make you come, to hear you falling apart in his arms. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue delving into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline, his breathing ragged and uneven against your mouth.

"Come for me, baby." He pleaded between kisses, his voice rough and needy. "Let go for me. I got you. I got you."

With every movement he rocked your body against the wall, nails digging into the wet skin of his shoulder as your moans transformed into shaky whimpers, desperately trying to return the kiss in midst of the growing pleasure. His name was coming out between the sounds of pleasure almost involuntarily. His thumb slipped past your already parted lips making them close around the digit and biting down on it, cutting off your moans and the way you were muttering his name under your breath.

He watched as you fell apart in his arms, your moans and whimpers driving him wild, your nails digging into his skin and leaving little marks. The sight of you, the way you were responding to him, and the way you were biting down on his thumb, sending a bolt of desire through him.

He gasped at the feeling, his pace faltering for a moment as he looked down at you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with need.

"Oh, god. That's good, baby." He managed to say, his voice hoarse and rough.

He continued to move, his body pressed against you, his thumb still between your lips as you continued to bite down. He could feel the pressure building between you both, the heat and the need and the pleasure all consuming, threatening to take him over the edge with you. He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking and biting at it, leaving his own marks on your skin.

"Come for me, dolly." He pleaded once more, his voice low and desperate, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to feel you let go."

You fluttered around him, the tight grip of your legs locked around his waist growing even tighter if that was possible. You pulled him even deeper inside you, thighs shaking as he finally hit that one spot perfectly, back arching into his chest desperately. Your moans were turning more breathy with each movement although they were muffled by his thumb, begging and pleading for release without using words; not that you could, with your brain turned to mush.

He could feel you fluttering and shuddering around him, the grip of your legs around him a lifeline as he held onto you. He had you pressed up against the wall, completely at his mercy, and he reveled in it.

The sight and feeling of you so utterly undone in his arms did things to him. He continued to move inside you, each movement driving him closer and closer to the edge.

"God, you're so perfect." He gasped, his voice rough and ragged. "You feel so good, baby. It's like this pussy was made for me.."

His words were hoarse and shaky, a mixture of need, desire, and possessiveness as he continued to move inside you, his body completely consumed by the need to make you feel good, to make you come undone in his arms.

"Tell me how good I make you feel, baby." He murmured, his thumb slipping out of your mouth, his lips moving to your ear, his hot, ragged breaths caressing your skin. "I wanna hear you say how good I make you feel. Say my name."

Your eyes struggled to find his, one of your hands swiping at your face to prevent too much water getting into them, vision already blurry. Your face was contorted in pleasure, brows knitting up almost pathetically, hair messy and sticking to your flushed cheeks and forehead. "God i-.. you feel so good.. Right there.." you barely responded before your nails clawed at his shoulder, digging into the flesh as your moans became even breathier and airy.

He watched as your eyes struggled to focus, your face twisted in pleasure, your hair stuck to your skin, a sight so beautiful and wrecked it set him on fire. He felt your nails dig into his skin, the faint pain only adding to the sensation and the need.

"That's right, doll." He murmured, his lips brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of soft, hot kisses along your jaw. "You're taking me so well, baby.. You feel so good around my cock, so perfect.. I need to hear you say my name. Say it. Say my name, dolly."

The praise sent another wave of arousal coursing through your overheated body, fluttering around him once again as you muttered his name under your breath, your eyes fixed on his face desperate to anchor yourself to something against the pleasure that made your thighs shake and your ears ring. You could feel the orgasm close, just in your reach but you needed more, something to push you towards it fully, "I need more.. go harder or faster or something.." you rambled, your voice needy and shaky.

He loved the way you responded to his words, the way you shuddered and quivered in his arms, begging for more, begging for him. He was so close, so close to the edge, but he couldn't hold back, not when you were pleading with him to go harder, faster, anything.

"You want it harder, baby?" He said, his voice rough and ragged, his movements becoming frantic, his body driven by the need to give you what you wanted, what you needed. "I'll give you more. I'll give you everything." he whispered, one of his hands snaking between the two you shakily to rub over your clit, the motions in sync with his frenzied thrusts.

He watched you as his fingers found your sensitive spot, his touch deliberate and precise, the added stimulation causing your body to arch against him, your head lolling back against the tile wall. He could feel the wave of pleasure building within you, the way your body was growing tighter around him, drawing him even closer to the edge, to the brink of an orgasm which would make him see stars.

That was what you needed, your thighs shaking around his waist as the pleasure washed over you without any warning, letting out a cry of pleasure from your throat. It was like the breathing was rocked out of your lungs for a moment, eyes prickling with warm tears from the intensity of the orgasm even though you couldn't tell with the water from the shower.

He could feel your body shaking and shuddering against him, the way you clenched around him, the sound of your moans and cry of pleasure washing over him, sending him over the edge, his body shuddering as he found his release, your name leaving his lips in a low groan, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he rode out the waves of ecstasy with slow, sloppy thrusts.

"Oh, baby." He gasped, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath, his body still pressed against you, his arms wrapped around you like lifeline.

Your whole body relaxed, slumped against the tiled wall as you exhaled. Your legs were now wrapped around his waist loosely, shaky fingers playing with the wet hair at the nape of his neck idly. You couldn't speak for a few good moments as you let the silence take over, the only sound between the two of being the running water and your heavy breaths. But as the silence stretched, you could feel the guilt creeping in so you pushed it down, deciding to ignore the sickening feeling, "This might be my favorite position.."

He held you against him, his own body relaxing as he reveled in the aftermath of the pleasure, the feel of your fingers in his hair almost soothing, grounding him back to reality. He let out a soft chuckle at your words, his lips finding the pulse point on your neck and leaving a soft, possessive kiss.

"Yeah? I can tell." He replied, his voice low and rough. "You're like a ragdoll when I got you like this. All limp and satisfied."

"Or maybe cowgirl.." you added mindlessly, sighing gently.

He chuckled again, his hand tracing a lazy pattern on your bare back, his heart still racing from the exertion and the afterglow. He raised an eyebrow at your words, a sly smirk playing at his lips.

"Oh, I know all about that one." He teased, his hand moving down to pinch your ass playfully. "You like that one, huh? Letting you be in control a bit, getting to ride me how you want."

He continued to hold you against him, the water still running warm over their overheated bodies, the air between them still charged with the remnants of desire. He couldn't help but feel a pang of attachment to you, the way your body was so pliant and relaxed in his arms, the way you always seemed to fit so perfectly against him.

"You should stay the night." He said suddenly, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

The movement of your fingers stilled, eyes locked into his intently. In the few times you hooked up you did stay the night, even if you were gone in the morning. But him asking you too sounded so intimate that you felt compelled to. And besides the storm was probably still raging outside. You grinned lazily, trying to sound casual and lighthearted "Shower sex got you feeling romantical, huh? Think that would work for me asking for a hundred bucks too?"

He chuckled at your response, amused and a little bit endeared by your attempts at keeping things casual, trying to keep things in the realm of "no strings attached".

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense as his grip on your hip tightened, pulling you even tighter against him.

"You're using me for my money, dolly? That's just plain rude.." He replied, his voice teasing and playful, patting the shower wall blindly to turn off the water.

At his action of pulling you closer, you sighed softly given you were still connected. You resumed your fingers' actions, carding your fingers through the wet strands of his hair. "I'm just plain using you.. Getting money out of it is because I'm broke.." you teased, even though your words were technically true.

He closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the simple gesture soothing and comforting in a way that was completely foreign to him. He let out a soft breath, enjoying the moment, enjoying the way your body felt in his arms, the way your soft skin felt against his. He knew that you were teasing, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the reminder of your financial needs.

"You could just ask, dolly.." he murmured, gently pinching your ass again.

He pulled away from you just a bit, his eyes meeting yours as the water stopped running, the last remnants of desire fading into a comfortable silence. The air was cool in contrast to the heat of their bodies, the world outside the shower still distant and muffled by the sound of the storm raging on.

"And I'm serious." He added, his hand coming to rest on the side of your face, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. "Stay the night. No money necessary."

And you did. Because honestly speaking, although you'd never admit it to him, Rafe's bed was 100 times much better than your own, or the ratty couch at the Chateau for that matter. It was something about being in a room and in a house that felt like it was a completely different realm from the outside world. Where Rafe never asked questions or demanded answers from you, not tonight when you showed up to his house unannounced and not the last three times you slept with him. He just fucked you and you'd get to leave in the morning without worrying about calling. It was easy, especially when he'd act the same way he always did when seeing you around. Well maybe aside from today at the bar, where you were close to kissing on company time, with patrons and members of the club still drinking in the background.

Although you were knocked out cold when you two got to bed, sleeping peacefully beside Rafe with your mouth slightly parted and damp hair sprawled all over the pillow, he was restless. He laid beside you, his eyes wandering to his old t-shirt draped over your figure and a pair of boxers (also lent by him) peeking from where the shirt ended, and he clenched his jaw. More in anger than in anything. Anger at getting too intimate with you, almost flying to close to the sun. Especially tonight at Topper's, the fact that he was bothered enough by Jack spiking your drink the other day and acting on that feeling was angering him. He clenched his bruised knuckles, fidgeting with one of his rings as he recalled slamming them in the cheek of the brunette in a haze of anger, toppling him over the coffee table and ruining the night in less than five minutes. He was going insane.

Rafe laid beside you, his eyes tracing over your sleeping form, the way the t-shirt he'd given you clung to your curves, the way your hair was tousled and messy on the pillow. He knew he should be sleeping, his body was exhausted after the events of the night, but his mind was wired, thoughts racing, the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface for days finally starting to bubble over.

He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and gently running his fingers along your cheek, feeling the soft, warm skin under his touch.

He watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each steady breath, the rhythmic movement almost hypnotic in the dark room. He wanted to reach out and pull you closer, to feel your body against his, to feel the heat and the softness of your skin against his. He wanted to push his fingers through your hair, to feel the strands slipping through his fingers, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent.

But he didn't. He just laid there, his hand withdrawing from your face, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as he struggled with the war raging inside his head.

He silently cursed himself, his mind still racing with thoughts and emotions. He couldn't understand what possessed him to act so recklessly at Topper's party, letting his anger and possessiveness take over him, ruining the night. He clenched his bruised knuckles absentmindedly, wincing at the dull ache that throbbed underneath his skin.

He wanted to turn his head to look at you, to watch your chest rising and falling with each breath, but he resisted the urge. He was scared of what he might feel, of the feelings he knew were growing inside him, against his better judgment.

The silence in the room was deafening, the only sound being the steady hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of the storm that was still raging outside. Rafe felt like he was suffocating, the weight of his thoughts and his emotions crushing down on him, making it hard to breathe. He clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling over.

He wasn't one to get into mindless fights, not anymore at least. But the thought of that dick Jack spiking your drink and getting away with it didn't sit right with him, and he felt entitled to take action. Even if you didn't ask him. Even if he wasn't your boyfriend or the guy you were in love with. He was doing all these things for a girl who didn't even love him, someone who hated him outside sex. And he was okay with it. Because being slightly older than you and a guy, he understood the weight of Jack's action so much better than you did.

He was spiraling, his thoughts becoming a tangled mess of anger and desire and confusion. He couldn't understand why he was so damn protective of you, why the thought of someone hurting you made him see red. He wasn't your boyfriend, he wasn't your anything, yet there he was, laying next to you while you slept, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as the sound of your steady breathing filled his ears.

He tried to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, tried to find some semblance of calm in the familiar sound. But it only seemed to make his thoughts more intense, the need to touch you, to hold you, growing stronger by the second.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles white against the sheets, the dull ache from his bruised knuckles reminding him of the fight at Topper's. The fight he started because of you, because he couldn't bear the thought of another guy looking at you, let alone hurting you.

He turned his head then, glancing at you in the soft glow of the moonlight. You looked so damn innocent, so damn beautiful, lying there asleep and peaceful, completely oblivious to the chaos that was going on in his head.

He couldn't help himself. He reached out, his hand tracing over the curve of your hip through the thin material of the shirt you were wearing, his touch tentative and hesitant, as if he was afraid he would break you.

Gone was the sarcastic, mouthy girl who managed to have a reply to anything he said, the girl who would torture him with snarky remarks and then end up in his bed. She was replaced with this peaceful, angelic looking girl, sleeping in his bed like a fawn resting in the middle of a forest clearing. Like tonight for example, you showed to his house on a storm and he never got to know why truly. But he'd figure it was the same reason you slept with him in the first place. JJ. And the fact that he had a girlfriend.

His expression darkened at the thought of JJ, his hand tightening on your hip almost possessively, the same possessiveness that had him throwing punches at Topper's party just earlier in the night.

He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stand the thought of you with anyone else, not even JJ. You were his, damn it. His to touch, to kiss, to claim. The thought of another man touching you, kissing you, claiming you, made him crazy.

He clenched his jaw, fighting back the wave of jealousy that rose in his chest. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to picture you with JJ or anyone else. But the images kept popping up in his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

He shifted closer to you, his body drawn to yours like a magnet. He couldn't help it. He needed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to remind himself that for now, at least, you were his and his alone.

these songs are so rafe and reader coded

A/N: This was also very long, im so #teamrafe it's crazy, he's kinda strange and peculiar but at least he has an ounce of maturity. And oh, he's so falling in love. Special treat next chapter btw, if you guess what is it ill kiss you thru the screen (also do u guys want more texts with rafe?), don't forget to comment reblog since it helps me out, like and of course send me asks because i love interacting with you!😁👍❤️

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen @wh0reforbucknasty @wtfisastiles @annaconscience @pqndxra @carrerascameron @nini2mem @iynsane @gublerstylesobrien1238 @wrldfilms

[tobiosbbyghorl]

hyper and chilll suggestion first frost inspired 😭😭 when reader is drunk and hoon has to fetch her and remove her makeup for her and hes all smiley while he yaps, he pulls her closer admires her and kisses her

Hyper & Chill | psh

act 23: late night hero

Sunghoon sighed as he pulled up to the curb outside the bar, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. The moment he got your tipsy, borderline incoherent voice note—“Lolove, I think I’m a lil’… hic! …drunk. You should come get meeee~”—he was already grabbing his keys.

And now here he was, watching you stumble out of the bar with your friend leading you toward his car.

The moment you saw him, your face lit up.

“Lolove!” You beamed, waving at him enthusiastically, as if he wasn’t your boyfriend of nearly a year but instead a long-lost lover in a drama.

Sunghoon shook his head, fighting a grin. “Get in, you drunk idiot.”

—

By the time he got you back to your place, you were barely keeping your eyes open.

“Loloveeee,” you mumbled, clinging onto his arm as he led you inside. “You’re so nice… You’re the nicest, bestest boyfriend in the whole world.”

Sunghoon chuckled, unlocking your door with the spare key you gave him. “Yeah, yeah, tell me more when you’re sober.”

You pouted but let him guide you to sit on your bed.

Sunghoon crouched in front of you, hands resting on your knees as he studied your sleepy, flushed face. Your makeup was slightly smudged from the night, and he sighed.

“You need to take your makeup off before you sleep,” he muttered, standing to grab your wipes from the dresser.

You hummed in response, eyes already half-closed.

He chuckled, kneeling in front of you again. “You’re not gonna do it, are you?”

“Nope.”

With a fond sigh, he gently took your face in his hands.

“Alright, stay still.”

You giggled. “Your hands are so warm~”

Sunghoon shook his head, but his lips twitched into a smile as he carefully wiped your face. He worked in silence, a soft concentration on his features, while you sat there with a dazed little smile.

As he smoothed away the last of your mascara, he couldn’t help but admire you.

He always thought you were beautiful, but something about this moment—your sleepy eyes, your soft features, the way you let him take care of you so easily—made his heart squeeze.

He sighed dramatically. “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

Your lips curved. “You think I’m cute?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

You hummed, reaching out to poke his cheek. “You’re cute, too.”

Sunghoon scoffed, but his ears turned red. “Whatever.”

Then, just as he was about to get up, he noticed the familiar bottles of skincare on your vanity.

He sighed again. “You also need to do your skincare.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Too tired.”

Sunghoon shook his head. “I swear, you’ll complain about bad skin tomorrow if I let you sleep like this.”

Still, you made no effort to move.

He clicked his tongue. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

That made you perk up. “Really?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but grabbed your toner anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t move.”

You grinned, sitting still as he dabbed the product onto your skin with gentle hands.

“You’re so good at this,” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

“Of course,” he said smugly. “You always make me put on your sunscreen when you’re lazy, remember?”

You giggled. “True~”

He went through each step carefully—toner, serum, moisturizer—his lips twitching every time you let out a happy hum.

By the time he was done, he was smiling way too much for someone who just did someone else’s skincare routine.

“There. All soft and glowy,” he teased, tapping your nose.

You beamed. “Thanks, Lolove.”

Then, as if possessed, he gently pulled you closer, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers traced along your jaw.

You blinked at him, your smile soft. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He swallowed.

His voice was quieter when he replied.

“Dunno. Just… admiring my drunk mess of a girlfriend.”

Your heart flipped.

And before you could reply, he tilted your chin up and kissed you—soft, slow, and incredibly sweet.

You melted against him, hands fisting his hoodie as he pressed one, two, three kisses to your lips, each one more lingering than the last.

When he finally pulled away, he exhaled a laugh.

“You taste like soju,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours.

You grinned. “You like soju.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But I like you more.”

And with that, he kissed you again—because tipsy or not, he’d never get tired of it.

©️ tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

taglist: @iboughtnjz @rikidaze @pocketzlocket @jaerisdiction @ijustwannareadstuff20 @doririsstuff @whateveridontcarsheesh @rikifever @firstclassjaylee @jayhoonvroom

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie

[anghraine]

Speaking of "The City on the Edge of Forever," I've been thinking about how my femslash Spirk AU winds out through the canon TOS episodes, interacts with gender expectations of the show, etc, and am mentally organizing episodes by how drastically affected they'd be.

I'm also thinking of S'paak hiding her ears beneath a beanie in 1930 :P

[kushanna]

i hate this type of red truth cause it's not specified whether the red sentence by itself is a truth for the murder we're talking about atm or for the game board as a whole. genji and nanjo were not killers? if you're telling me they can't be killers at all in the first game board then that's a huge bummer for me

also hate this one cause yeah?? does she guarantee that the unidentified corpses are actually corpses though?? i do understand that yes, since she did say "there were no body double tricks", but GOD that's such a ridiculous play with words. get out of here

[mirmidones]

3.40 i woke up bc i was cold and needed to pee and now i can't fall back asleep i keep thinking of the people i accidentally ghosted. is it ghosted if there was no intent to ghost? i feel so bad and it's not even like i don't think about them i often do think "i should really reply to them... once this is over ill properly sit down and write them... " and then i don't bc something else happens and im dealing with that and the longer i leave it unanswered the more difficult it becomes because i feel so guilty and therefore want to do things properly not half assed but bc i feel so guilty a part of me also tends to avoid it even more. if i do this to you just know i'm really sorry and ill get back to you i swear

[my-chemical-rot]

Do you know how unnerving it is to wake up abruptly in the middle of the night finding yourself involuntarily muttering aloud “before it gets better darkness gets bigger the person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger…” or “there’s a room in hotel New York City… shares our fate and deserves… pity…”

[gojoest]

curiosity — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, childhood friends to lovers, satoru is painfully aware of his own feelings while reader is not, mention of past girlfriends (and how they all looked like you), handjob (m! receiving), cumming in pants (and in your hand), not proofread, wc: 2k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

synopsis: gojo satoru is your childhood best friend. you’ve been inseparable ever since you were little. spending day and night together, you’d often have sleepovers together — a tradition you both carried on throughout your college years. at least once a week you’d drop by his dorm room and stay the night, or vice versa. but compared to your childhood days, you no longer share one bed. that is, until . . .

part 2

a/n: this is a further (and very lousy) elaboration on this post of mine but hey, HAPPY BDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY

“i think we should try sleeping together”, you suggest one night.

“wah—“, satoru gasps, a teasing glint in his eyes. “didn’t know you felt that way about me”, he smirks.

“just sleeping”, you quickly clarify. “whatever obscene thing you just thought of — it’s not that”, you add, giving him a roll of your eyes.

“you should pick your words more wisely”, he scoffs. “if you go around telling people you want to sleep with them, they will misunderstand”

“ugh”, you huff, “i obviously didn’t mean it like that, and you know it”

“yeah, i do”, he lets out a soft chuckle. he knew exactly what you meant, but still he disguised his wishful thinking behind a teasing remark. “why though? all of a sudden?”

“dunno”, you shrug. “just feeling bad that you always take the floor”

“if that’s the case we can just swap”

“no — i cherish my comfort. come on, we used to do this all the time”, you pout.

indeed you did. but you were kids back then, things were different.

his heartbeat would race and his face would get all hot and red, the heat would fester through his entire body. but when the lights were off it was easy to hide it, the signs that he liked you. after making sure you were fast asleep, he would hold your hand and childishly smile to himself, he would peck it softly, secretly. one time you woke up in the middle of the night and almost caught him but he, startled, kicked you off the bed. yelling at you, lying, how you pushed your finger in his nostril in your sleep… he was so embarrassed, but also relieved you believed what he said was true. his secret was safe.

but now?

when you stand too close to him his body starts acting up in more mature ways. while he is better at controlling his facial expressions now and hiding his nervous heartbeat behind a nonchalant attitude, he struggles with keeping his urges at bay. he’s no longer the boy that blushes while secretly holding your hand; he is a man who craves you.

even when he’s laid on the futon beside the bed you occupy, the sound of your breathing alone gets him hard. you lie there, sleeping innocently, unaware of how much of a pain in the crotch you are being to him. when you leave in the mornings, he climbs onto the bed that is soaked with your scent and shamelessly jerks off. he stands on his knees and sprays his load on the bedsheets. eyes shut close, he pictures you beneath him.

he sighs in defeat. “fine”

“the right side is mine — it’s only natural, because i am always right”, you snicker and quickly pad over to the bed, plopping your body down on the mattress. “sure”, he chuckles and follows after you, sinking himself right next to you.

it is a bit awkward, you must admit. you are laid on your sides facing each other, in silence.

it’s cramped indeed, your knees are brushing against his and the space in the middle separating your bodies from one another is very scarce. but that was to be expected, the beds in the dorm rooms were designed for one person after all.

“so”, you break the silence. “how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“she’s not my girlfriend, anymore”, he states dryly.

“but it’s been barely two weeks since you started dating”

“well, things didn’t work out i guess”

the girls he dated, all of them looked a bit like you. same height, same hair color and length. similar facial features… he never lasted long with any of them though. all of them, visibly bothered by your presence in his life, would too soon ask him to make a choice — either them or you. neither of them aware that he chose to be with them in the first place only because they reminded him of you, and that it was never the question itself that drove him away from them. it was bound to happen, sooner or later. they could never be you.

you hum. “i see”

as you shift to make yourself more comfortable, you feel the shirt he gave you to wear to bed roll up ever so slightly, revealing the bare of your belly. a bit self-conscious now that he’s next to you, you are immediately urged to cover yourself. you slide a hand under the blanket, rummaging around to get a hold of the hem, but oh...

…the back of your hand brushes against something stiff. the friction incurring a low pant from the man, your best friend, next to you.

“fuck”, satoru hisses. his hand clasps around your wrist, pushing it away, but along with the movement his knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach. “fuck”, he curses again.

“satoru”, you say his name, voice hushed and timid but there is a note of underlying curiosity he is way too familiar with.

this is exactly why he was avoiding the one bed scenario — his boners were too hard to hide at this age and this size of him.

“satoru”, you repeat. “are you hard?”

“i wish you didn’t ask the obvious”, he mumbles, embarrassed. warmth washing over his face uncontrollably, just like in the past. but there was a bigger problem now — down in his pants, and the fact he got caught.

“is it because of me?”

“no”, he clicks his tongue, his grip still tight around your wrist, keeping your hand at bay. “it’s because i didn’t jerk off tonight, you know — it’s a natural thing for us men to randomly pop a boner throughout the day”

…which was true. but it was not the case right now.

“can i play with it a little?”, you ask, sneakily twisting your wrist in an attempt to free your hand.

“oi!”, he yelps. “did you hit you head or what?”

“i am curious”, you blurt out. “just a little?”

“stop”, he warns. “it’s weird”

his resolve is hanging by a thread right now, you’re too cunning to tempt him like this. he knows things will get awfully messy between you if he lets you cross this line. but still, he can’t flat out deny you. deep down he wants you to persist, a little bit more… if you ask him one more time, maybe he’ll crumble. surely, he will.

“it’s not”, you reassure. “i won’t jerk you off, i’ll just touch it”, you explain. “please? just a little?”

well. fuck it.

“this is a bad idea”, he says, but loosens his grip around your wrist. “fine”, he mumbles. “but just a little”

you nod, pulling your hand away only to slide it down his body.

you’re not really sure why you were so happy to hear the news about his break-up, but you always felt more at ease when he belonged just to you. your best friend, and not someone else’s boyfriend. you don’t know why you were doing this right now, or why your heart was racing. maybe because it really was weird? or maybe you were just horny?

finding his cock wasn’t difficult, it sure stood out from the rest of his body.

“you really are hard”, you gasp, running your fingers across the bulge in his shorts, dragging out a throaty groan out of him.

“yeah”, he mumbles. “like i said, stop stating the obvious”

“it’s a bit wet here”, ignoring his words, you thumb the spot where his tip is, making him squirm. his body slightly jerks as you press your palm against it. cupping it inside your hand you squeezing it gently. “it’s warm too”, you keep exploring further. “it has a pulse”

satoru lets out a helpless whine. “you sound so dirty right now, it’s weird”

he’s longed for this type of intimacy with you for years. but in his head, he pictured it differently. it was him who was supposed to do things to you, not the other way around. he was supposed to be the confident one, delving into your layers, making you squirm and fall apart under his touch. not the other way around… but this was good too. too good for him to oppose it. you were his weakness, after all. you always have been. no matter how much he teased and picked on you, in the end he always let you do as you pleased. this was not an exception.

you giggle to yourself. “yeah? you like that new side of me, don’t you?”

“…maybe”

sneaking your hand through the front of his shorts and boxers, you feel the flesh of his cock directly. it was twitching, his tip slick with precum. you put the tip of your index finger on his slit and rub circles around it to smear the pre oozing out of it, getting another soft whimper out of him. the head of his cock all slippery now, urging you to rub it all over the rest of his length.

your fingers wrap around his cock as you start to move your hand up and down, slowly, smearing his own slick onto his own flesh.

he tries to swallow the moan stuck in his throat. “you said you were not going to jerk me off, but what now? you’re playing a bit too much, don’t you think?”

satoru can last long. under normal circumstances, that is. but having you — not just his hand, but you, his first ever love, his only love — touch him like that, he could barely hold back. the urge to bust has been there since the moment you put your hand on his cock.

“why? you gonna cum?”, you slip your hand lower, down to the base of his shaft — where his balls are. you caress them tenderly, incurring yet another soft groan from him, before you go back to stroking him again. with each drag you pick up the pace. the room is filled with the squelching sounds caused by your hand, at this point, confidently fisting his slick covered cock, and his heavy breathing. 

“hey”, he puts his hand on your cheek, softly pinching on it with his fingertips. an attempt to make you snap out of it, but alas — you don’t back away. “don’t regret this”, he whispers, almost beggingly. but his voice comes out too shallow for your ears to pick up on.

“are you close?”, you peek at him, watching his face with rapt fascination, grateful that you left the night lamp on.

never have you ever seen him like this. his cheeks so hot and flushed that his pale skin was lit completely red, up to his ears and his neck. beads of sweat across his forehead with strands of his hair stuck on it. mouth agape — huffing and puffing. his brows knitted, desperately. pleadingly. his mouth telling you to stop, yet his face told a different story. so did the part of him inside your palm. it made you throb, down there, and squeeze your thighs together. your own wetness spurting out from your slit, drenching the inside of your underwear”

“fuck—", he growls. “i am— c-close”, he stutters, struggling to control his breathing and the moans that roll out of his mouth.

you feel his cock twitch in your hand, differently. the pulse on it beating faster and more brashly, like it almost made his skin stretch and push against the flesh of your palm. and then, there was a delay. a few, very short seconds in which his cock stood still before violently exploding, pumping out a thick shot of cum. then some more, and more, and more — until the pouring turned into a light dribble toward the end.

“ugh”, he throatily groans, his body relaxing after oozing all the tension out. although slower now, you keep stroking him, running your fingers across his softening cock.

“oh wow”, you gasp, his cum sticky on your skin, drenching the space between your fingers. “what a mess”, you giggle.

“you’re trouble”, he sighs. “is your curiosity satisfied now?”

you nod.

“if you get curious about other things”, he pauses, scratching the back of his head, “come to me. don’t go to other men”

“i’ll think about it”, you smirk.

after that night, you stayed over for an entire week.

this little play time turned into routine, and you were no longer the only one playing.

[somnoir]

Little star's favorite

It all started when Talia came to Gotham with a gift.

The gift in question was a twelve year old boy.

Bruce stared at the boy who was almost the exact replica of Damian if not for the blue eyes and longer hair. He looked utterly perplexed at the sight of Bruce, tilting his head before frowning at his mother with a visibly displeased look.

"Beloved, may I introduce you to Danyal, our Damian's twin brother. He was... Away... On a mission until recently." Talia hummed, a hand on Danyal's back.

"You... You didn't think to tell me about him when you told me about Damian?" Shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked down at the boy who looked a little more like him than Talia and felt himself softening. "Hello Danyal."

"Hello."

Talia smiled, before her expression fell. "A little warning, beloved. The twins do not get along. Damian is quite the competitive child and Danyal... Well, he's the nicer one if I must say." She shrugged, running her fingers through her son's hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go on now, Najmi As-Sagheer (my little star)."

"Ummi... Must I join them? I am perfectly fine with remaining in the league." Danyal muttered, eye twitching but his expression was quickly schooled into neutrality.

"Yes, Danyal." She sighed, "I have no intention of letting father keep you."

Bruce raised a brow at her words.

"That is a conversation for another time, habibi." Talia lazily insisted, gently pushing Danyal towards Bruce.

Bruce, for all he's lived, immediately recognized a feral cat in the form a child. Yep. Another Damian. That was seemingly the nicer one.

But he was scruffy little thing who was being called little star by his mother. Bruce blinked, offering his hand to Danyal (like how a person would do by letting a cat sniff his hand to see if they were safe).

Danyal, more twitchy and annoyed than his brother, looked at the hand like it had personally offended him.

And that is how Batman brought home another child while holding him by the scruff.

(Danny hated everyone except for Alfred—both cat and butler)

Danyal was a much quieter person compared to Damian. Unlike his brother who had practically came into their lives guns blazing and declaring that he was the rightful heir to the bat, Danyal mainly ignored them. He would glare, snarl, and scowl, but not in the way Damian did. The kid was obviously threatened by them, but more for his own safety rather than inheritance.

He avoided them like the plague, only welcoming the company of Alfred and occasionally Cass.

He didn't join in on the vigilante business, opting to stay back with Oracle and just quietly direct them on their missions. It was strange in all honesty.

They didn't know much about Danyal, aside from the fact that his mother called him little star for his natural love of space. That he liked to tinker with gadgets and make his own weapons. That he really liked fudge.

Aside from that, the kid was quiet and was usually hiding out in his room.

Tim wasn't particularly thrilled to have another demon brat in the family. He avoided Danyal as much as possible expecting for the boy to be just like his brother and attack him.

But apparently not.

It's one of those unfortunate times that Tim's sleep deprivation and overload on energy drinks gets him benched by Alfred and not Bruce. No one particularly wanted to argue with their beloved butler/grandpa so Tim was stuck in place. It was a much quieter night than usual, almost peaceful (as much as Gotham can get).

Babs was relieved of her duties to have a night off, rest and relax and such, while Tim manned the bat computer in Oracle's place. He almost didn't notice the mop of black hair that suddenly appeared beside him.

Tim didn't want to admit it, but he flinched at Danyal's presence and how he was quietly standing there with a tray of coffee and cookies. Blue eyes blinked at him, silently pushing the tray forward to offer Tim the lone cup (most likely for him) and the plate of cookies.

Suspicious, Tim narrowed his eyes. "Alfred wouldn't make me coffee after benching me for this kind of thing."

Danyal shrugged, "Made it myself. Thought you'd need it since the others will be gone for a while."

"That's poisoned."

"It's not." Danyal frowned, immediately taking the cup and taking a couple sips himself before once again offering it to Tim.

Now, Tim wasn't stupid enough to ignore the possibility of Danyal having some tolerance to poison. But Tim was also tolerant to a lot of poisons so might as well.

When taking one sip, he was already feeling weird. One, there was no poison. Two, it was actually pretty good.

Danyal just sat there and stared at the screen, munching on cookies and pointing at the screen whenever Robin started to stray from the patrol route. Tim had a lot of fun reportingtattling to Bruce about it.

Eventually, it became a routine.

Danyal always sat beside Tim. Quiet and just offering random stuff, either food, some little gadget he made, or just the most bizarre stuff he found while at school.

Tim learned many things about his weird little brother. How cameras go crazy around him. How he had his reasons for not being touched. How Danyal was more silent than Cass. How Danyal vanished and reappeared at times.

(The glowing green eyes were the most concerning.)

He never really took notice of how Danyal started to gravitate to him. Always with him, barely without.

(Tim refused to admit that he was just the same.)

"Can I go on patrol with you?" Danyal asked, tugging at his Red Robin suit with a curious look. "I wanna meet Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn."

And Tim didn't really see much of a problem with that. Danyal was a highly trained assassin that Ra's apparently trusted to go on a solo mission while Damian had to be whisked away from the league. It wasn't too absurd for Tim to just shrug and let his kid brother tag along.

He was also very sure that his baby brother was an eldritch being with how the shadows seemed to rise around him. Yeah, the baby was a cryptid amongst a family of supposed cryptids. Very fitting.

It's a nice night. With Danny running amok with Tim, clearly having fun. But that one looks of sadness didn't escape Tim when Danny paused and looked to the sky with longing.

Tim remembers how Danny rambled about the stars in their shared moments, where it's just them.

Tim remembers how Danny would describe the sky in Nanda Parbar and how he often snuck out just to see it.

Tim remembers how much his little brother likes space and turns to the cloudy sky of Gotham that hides the stars.

Tim remembers how he was often depraved of the brotherly love he wanted. How he didn't get the full experience of having an older brother.

"You okay, little star?"

Danyal snapped his head towards Tim, eyes blown wide and flashing green (he knows that wasn't normal but he ignores that in favor to the way Danyal visibly softens at the nickname).

"'m okay, akhi." Danyal muttered, following after Tim after adjusting his own hood.

And it's like his heart stops.

Yep.

Tim has had Danyal for barely a year and he was willing to throw hands with Ra's, Talia, and Bruce for him.

"C'mon, qalbi(my heart). Batburger's still open."

He barely noticed the shift after that. But others think it's a glaring change that often made them stop and stare.

Danyal went to Tim whenever he needed anything.

If Danyal wasn't in bed, you'd find him snuggled up to Tim.

Danyal hated it when people touched him... Except for Tim.

Danyal liked Tim the most.

The day Dick thought it was a good idea to call Danyal 'Danny' (a nickname that was only used by Tim and Alfred), he almost got stabbed. Well, that's where all the stabbiness went to.

Safe to say, Tim was Danny's favorite.

And Danny was Tim's.

"Drake! What have you done to my brother?!" Damian pointed a katana at Tim, who lazily glanced his way before turning back to Danny who was comfortably snuggled up to him and watching Blue while Tim scrolled on Tiktok.

"I haven't done anything to Danny, demon brat. Now shoo!" Tim's irritation could be heard from a mile away, shamelessly shooing Damian away with a flick of his wrist. Then the next second, he was combing his fingers through Danny's hair and listening to his younger brother make a purring noise.

(Another point of investigation because that is not fucking normal, Tim. Cute though!)

"I refuse to believe that Danyal would prefer you over me!"

"You're just salty that he stabs you like you stab me." Tim waved him off again, watching as Danny yawned and continued to ignore everyone else.

The click of a camera immediately alerts him and he's tugging Danny down before the much younger boy lunges at Dick.

"Woah! What's up with him?" Dick nervously asked, instinctively raising his phone above his head.

"Delete that!" Tim snarled, pulling Danny closer and guiding his brothers face to his shoulder. "You know he hates it when people take pictures without consent!"

(Tim doesn't tell them that something goes every wrong with the footage if Danny was ever in the picture.)

"Dick." Tim warned, effortlessly picking up Danny, because yes, his seemingly cryptid baby brother could become weightless, and snatched Dick's phone. Yep. Instead of Danny, there was a very strange figure, a glitching silhouette of black and green. He deletes it immediately.

Dick was pouring, "I don't have any pics of Danny—"

"Don't call me that, Richard." Danny scowled, clinging to Tim like a koala. He was strangely more child-like than Damian, muttering about annoying people who interrupted bonding time. (Dick was just forced to pout.)

"Danyal." Damian crossed his arms, scowling at Danny who was still comfortably cuddled up to Tim. "It is not appropriate to cling to Drake in such a way! You will embarrass our mother and father if you are seen acting like a petulant child!"

Tim wanted to argue that no, he wouldn't embarrass Talia and Bruce by being a kid, but Danny just grabbed a cookie from nowhere (note to self, add possible teleportation powers to cryptid baby) and shoved it into his mouth.

Danny just yawned, fixing Damian with a lazy glare.

"Tuhali, can you shut up?"

Damian stood stock still, while Jason and Bruce choked on their own spit. Jason slapping a hand over his mouth and Bruce just staring at his twins like the apocalypse was about to return.

"What did you just call me?"

Danny yawne again, "My spleen."

Tim knew what Tuhali meant. Of course he fucking knew Arabic! But to think that his cryptid baby brother was straight up calling Damian his spleen?

The spleen that Tim doesn't have.

The spleen that's important to the immune system but you can survive without it?

Tim grinned, grabbing his cryptid baby and made a run for it.

Yep.

Danny was definitely his favorite.

Credits to: @strangergraphics for the dividers used.

[morlock-holmes]

One of the things which I think should be most shocking to people who have no experience with Homeless shelters is how often they have policies which *actively make it harder for their residents to find or keep a job*.

What happens if you have a strict curfew but the bus back from your new job only comes once every hour? Better hope you don't leave work even five minutes late, otherwise you ain't getting to sleep indoors tonight! Hope that doesn't impair you at work tomorrow!

Also, better not try to get any swing or night shift work!

This is so obviously stupid and counterproductive that I think those of us who have never had first-hand knowledge of being homeless can't imagine that this kind of stuff is *normal* in American shelters.

Like legitimately they seem designed to keep people homeless.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Luffy gets into an alluring tin of mysterious cookies. One thing leads to another, and he ends up in your room, disoriented and distressed. What will it take to help him feel better? ~5k words.

CW: Smut with a bit of plot. Afab reader, gendered language (“princess”), overstimulation, dry humping, begging, aphrodisiacs, penetrative sex.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Luffy stumbles into your cabin late at night. The door is wide open and it seems like no one else on the Sunny is awake. You’re messing around on your phone, doom scrolling to pass the time and entertain yourself. You wish that you could fall sleep, but it won’t come any time soon. It’s a restless sort of night.

He almost trips over his feet as he crashes onto the chair by your desk.

“Luffy, what’s up? It’s late.”

A closer look at him reveals that he’s sweating and bright red. His eyes look off and he looks sick.

“Are you okay?” You’re worried—he looks seriously unwell.

“I feel funny. I think I ate something bad, my tummy hurts.” Luffy’s brows are bent in the middle and he’s grimacing.

You’ve seen Luffy when he has food poisoning before. He literally turns green and complains non-stop. It’s his own fault, he’s like a racoon. He’ll eat anything, regardless of how questionable it is. Old leftovers wherever he can find them, almost-rotting fruit, poisonous fish, none of it matters for Luffy. If it looks edible, he’s taking it to the neck. He frequently suffers the consequences.

But right now, he’s not green, like he usually is when he’s eaten something spoiled. He looks different.

You get up and walk over to him, placing your hand on his forehead. When your skin touches his, he lets out what initially sounds like some sort of moan, but you shrug it off—that must have been a wail of pain, right? He’s concerningly feverish and sweating bullets.

Does he have the flu? Should you wake up Chopper?

“Luffy, you’re burning up. Like, you have a really bad fever. I’m going to get Chopper.”

“Wait, I feel—I feel weird inside,” Luffy’s voice strains and he sounds like he’s in pain He’s visibly shivering. “It’s like my stomach is on fire, but I feel cold.” He continues almost babbling, so obviously in distress and discomfort, feverish nonsense falling from his lips impulsively.

You don’t realize it yet, but his hand wanders to his crotch and starts to fidget.

“Your stomach is on fire but you’re freezing cold? Did you eat something that went bad again? What did you eat?” You raise an eyebrow at him, vaguely annoyed. He sure doesn’t look like he has food poisoning. Also, there isn’t usually much spoiled food on the ship. Sanji keeps the fridge nice, tidy, and clean.

Why did Luffy come to you, instead of Chopper? He’s distracted, eyes zoning out somewhere and his face wrinkled up. He must not have heard you.

“I said, what did you eat? Luffy!”

“I ate—fuck,” Luffy’s brows furrow and he closes his eyes in anguish. “Ate Sanji’s cookies.”

“You did what? Sanji’s cookies? The ones with the huge note that says ‘do not eat’ on the tin?”

Luffy lets out another wail of pain and shifts in his seat. His fingers squeeze his crotch again. He’s hard, rubbing his massive erection, sliding his fingers over it, squeezing it and playing with himself.

“Luffy, what are you doing?!” You’re incredulous when you realize he’s touching himself. You’ve never seen anything like this before. He’s your captain, for fuck’s sake. What was he doing touching himself in your room, with a raging fever and chattering teeth?

Putting the pieces together, you remember that Sanji had devilish smirk as he brought his special souvenir onto the ship. It was a pretty box, made of metal, covered in some sort of light blue paint, filigreed with gold accents and illustrations of pretty pink ribbons. The chef put an obnoxious “DO NOT EAT SANJI’S COOKIES” sign on the box and slid them to the top shelf of the pantry, almost out of reach. It was, admittedly, extremely naïve of Sanji to expect Luffy to pay any heed to that sign.

You put two and two together. The cookies must have had something in them.

As a response to your indignance, Luffy squeezes his erection harder and gasps quietly. Sweat drips from his temples and down his cheeks. His mouth hangs open, and his pupils are huge. He’s a fucking mess, and you have no clue what to do in this situation.

“’m so cold,” he whines and shakes. “Too c-c-cold.”

This is wildly inappropriate, but… you are kind of turned on, just because he’s touching himself. You have some sort of repressed crush on your captain—how could you not? You usually push it to the back of your mind, though. Pining over him is a waste of time when nothing would ever come of it.

“Fuck,” Luffy’s voice is gravelly and his hand moves of its own accord. “Feels like it’s helping. Feels warm.”

Your heart does a flip. Luffy is palming his cock in front of you, panting with arousal, head thrown back. He can’t help but touch himself. It’s the only thing that’s relieving his discomfort, evidently. You feel awkward, but it’s almost starting to get you going. You feel heat creep up your neck and you're frozen still.

Luffy’s eyes wander to your chest—he’s staring at your breasts, drinking in the shape of them and the outline of your nipples though your shirt. You start to turn red, matching his color rapidly.

“Luffy, what the fuck? Stop! You’re a wreck.” You divert the awkwardness for a second. “No wonder the sign says do not eat! I’m going to get Chopper. You need to rest. Go do that in your room.”

Luffy grinds his palm down his erection and a stifled sound of pleasure gets caught in his throat. You pause, against your better judgment. That sound—the sound of Luffy in pleasure—makes you feel some sort of way. You start to warm up between the legs.

“I want you to do it.” Luffy’s voice gets lower each time he talks. He’s still shaking, freezing, sweating, and unwell. But he’s touching himself, and you had imagined this before. It’s hard to look away.

“What?” You respond reflexively, caught completely off guard. Did you hear him right?

“Want you to touch me,” he whines and continues to rub himself. The friction feels electric. “I think it’ll h-help.”

Luffy’s eyes are half open and glossy, still riveted on your tits. His pupils are really dilated. His fingers grasp and stroke his hard cock through his shorts, and each sound that leaves his mouth goes straight between your thighs.

“You want me to touch you? Are you… Are you sure, Luffy?”

“Need it,” he scrunches his face up. “’m going crazy.”

You bite your lip and pause for a second. If your captain was asking you for help, you might as well assist him… Also, this didn’t feel like that crazy of a request for help, considering the fact that he’d literally die for you (and has gotten close to that on multiple occasions). And you could tell he wasn’t being malicious or predatory about his request—he was just being Luffy, asking plainly for something. If you said no, he would be fine. He may whine a bit, but he’d never genuinely pressure you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But fuck, was he in his right mind? You shake your head. You want to touch him. But you are genuinely worried about him. It must be 2:00AM, so you need to wake up Chopper. You might want to touch Luffy, but you have to do your due diligence. You care about Luffy. If he’s sick or in danger, you have to make sure he’s okay.

“Luffy, no. I’m going to get Chopper. Just wait here.”

You speed-walk down the hallway, heart racing. What a bizarre turn of events. You didn’t expect that to happen when Luffy initially walked in your room. When you reach the door to Chopper’s cabin, you knock.

No answer. He’s obviously asleep.

You knock again. “Chopper? It’s me. Please get up. Luffy’s sick.”

Another knock. Rustling blankets. You can hear Chopper hobble to the door. He opens it and pokes his little head out, squinting. He’s wearing one of those sleeping gowns and a cute hat. “Mhm? What’s wrong with him?”

“Uh... He has a fever. He’s burning up and he’s shaking. He’s sweating a lot, too.” You figured you’d save the ‘and he’s masturbating’ part for later. Maybe you didn’t have to say it at all?

“Does he have food poisoning? Did he eat anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well, I don’t think he has food poisoning... But he ate some of Sanji’s cookies.”

“What’s in the cookies?” Chopper is shading his eyes from the dim hallway light. He’s half asleep and you feel bad for waking him up.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe there was something weird in them?”

Chopper yawns. Fuck. He looks like he’s falling asleep again. You can’t blame him, really, it’s way past his bedtime.

“Chopper, can you please come look at him?”

He yawns again. “I’m sleepy. Can you ask Sanji what’s in the cookies and get back to me? I just want to go to bed a little bit longer.”

You huff and frown as Chopper shuts his door. So now you were supposed to play telephone? If it was anyone else you would have chewed them out, but you couldn’t do that to Chopper.

Extremely aggravated, you storm down the hallway to Sanji’s cabin and knock on the door, loudly. It’s an angry knock. A fuck-you knock.

“Sanji. Get up.” Silence for a moment while the blonde jolts awake. “I said get up.”

His door opens just a tad until he realizes it’s you. Then he opens it wider. His hair is all rustled up and he’s shirtless, in boxers. If he wasn’t half-asleep, he’d be blushing and acting ridiculous because you’re seeing him half-naked.

“Oh, hello beautiful.” His voice is scratchy and he’s blinking. “How may I help you? Are you finally going to crawl into bed with me?” He flashes a cheeky grin and you almost slap him.

“No, Sanji. Luffy ate your cookies. He’s a mess.”

The cook’s half-asleep composure immediately drops. “He did what?”

You can tell he’s fully awake now.

“I said, he ate your fucking cookies, Sanji. What is in those things!?”

“FUCK. How many did he eat?”

“How many? How should I know?! He’s in my room with a fever right now. It’s Luffy, we can assume he probably ate the whole box.”

Sanji smirks and laughs out loud. “Well, there’s only one way to fix that. Good night, princess.” He winks and shuts the door in your face.

“Sanji, what the fuck!?”

You knock on his door again, but you can hear him get back in bed. You’re beyond pissed. You’re ready to kick the door down and wring his neck. But… you have a sinking feeling that you know what the cook is getting at. Fuck. The cookies have some sort of aphrodisiac in them.

You trudge back to your room, flabbergasted and defeated. Luffy is still in your chair, letting out wails of “pain” which you are now realizing are just fucking moans. Not to say that he isn’t in pain but… if the placement of his hand is any evidence right now, he’s feeling pretty good.

“Y-you’re back,” Luffy gasps as he grinds his palm on his erection for what is probably the 50th time.

“Fuck, Luffy. What did you get yourself into tonight? You can be such a bonehead. Goddamn.” Your hands are on your hips and you’re looking at him, weighing your options. You could kick him back to his room and tell him to masturbate.

He looks downright pathetic. His face is twisted up in agony and his hand is putting in work. “T-touch me,” he whines. “P-please.”

“Luffy, are you sure?” You walk over to him and place a hand on his cheek in pity.

He opens his eyes and weakly croaks out, “Not there. Lower.”

You tut and frown. “Ohhh Luffy. What am I going to do with you?”

He tries to give you puppy dog eyes and fails. Another erotic sound escapes his lips as his palm grinds on his cock particularly hard. He whispers, one last beg before he’ll do all the work himself. “Please.”

You cautiously reach your hand down and place it on his erection. Luffy throws his head back, hissing in air through his teeth, and fidgets under you.

“Fuck, that feels weird. Feels tingly, like—like it’s on fire,” he whines.

He grasps your wrist and makes you rub his cock harder, widening his thighs. His grip is so tight that it hurts. He’s forcing your palm down on his cock so hard that you can’t believe it isn’t hurting him.

Luffy’s eyes are closed and he’s actually drooling. He’s still shivering, and his cheeks are crimson. Sweat plasters his hair down on his forehead and temples.

The obscene sounds leaving his lips make you hotter between your legs—you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to mitigate the rising heat, but Luffy’s desperation is making it worse. He’s starting to rut his cock up into your hand.

“Ah, that feels—feels so hot and—fuck—feels funny, like it, it feels good.” You can feel his cock twitching under your fingers. He’s writhing around and whimpering, and fuck, he looks good. “Need more.”

“Y-you need more?” You ask hesitantly.

“C’mere.” Luffy grabs you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, guiding you to straddle his lap. You freeze up. There’s no way this is really happening.

“Mmmmmm, fuck.” He murmurs in your ear and his hips buck up, cock craving friction through the layer of his pants and yours.

“W-want you to rub on me,” his voice is wretched and depraved. “Feels good.” When you lock eyes, you can see animalistic desire plainly. You’ve never seen him look like this—it’s like he’s a different person; lust is completely driving his movements. It’s like primal instincts took over the second the aphrodisiac cookies went to his stomach.

Luffy dry humps you and it’s starting to feel good. His hands are gripping your hips and he’s doing all the work, dragging you over his cock, pushing you down on it and making your hips roll while needy noises trickle from his parted lips.

As friction builds on your clit, you stifle a moan that threatens to jump out of your mouth. Luffy’s so aroused that he’s panting and slobbering down his chin.

It’s like he’s in heat, the way he humps and grinds on you. Seeing him like this is making you wetter. Your panties must be saturated by now—the friction is already making you buzz, and he hasn’t done much other than rub you on his cock a bit.

“It’s helping,” the words fall carelessly from Luffy’s mouth. He has no clue what’s going on. He’s on autopilot right now, lost in lust and barely cognizant. “Wanna be warmer, ‘m still so—so cold.” His teeth are chattering amidst his moans. Considering how hot his cheek was, he must really be freezing.

Luffy’s hands wander to grip your chest through your tank top so hard you let out a yelp. He pulls it down and starts to greedily squeeze and knead your breasts. Your breath hitches when his fingerpads move back and forth on your already stiff and sensitive nipples.

When he leans forward and wraps his lips around one, you let out a gasp. His tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves and he starts to suck on it hungrily. Luffy is making you wet beyond belief—the suction on your nipple is feeling dangerously good. You’re on the verge of losing it, totally giving in to the nagging animalistic voice in your head that’s telling you to fuck him like crazy.

His erection is huge and hard as it grinds on your core. It feels good—no, he feels good. The noises he’s letting out add to the effect. Your core is throbbing and sopping wet.

“L-luffy,” you moan, finally, as he grazes your clit and sucks your nipple particularly hard. He lets out a muffled hum in response, vibrating your nipple. “Luffy, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.”

He goes faster. He thinks that if he sees your face contort in bliss and hears you moan some more, it’ll fix him. He’s starting to feel better already with each hump. Maybe if he sees you cum, he’ll stop pulsing and his body will stop screaming at him. Maybe if you cum from his dry humps, he’ll be satiated. Maybe his fever will go away.

Luffy can hardly form cognizant, coherent thoughts like this, though. His mind can only focus on two things. First: you. Your pleasure. Your cunt. Your tits. Your smell. He wants to devour you. Second: he’s freezing cold. He needs warmth—twenty blankets, a cup of hot tea, a heating pad, something. He feels like he’s in a vat of ice water.

“Can’t stop,” he chokes his words out with effort, somehow picking up the pace of his cock humping your cunt through your pants. “Need more.”

He grinds your clit just right and it sends you over the edge of orgasm. As you spasm over his clothed cock and soak your panties in ecstasy, he never once lets up the pace. He pushes you back and forth on his erection and doesn’t pay attention to your whimpers from overstimulation.

You collapse forward into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck while he uses his grip on your hips for leverage to rut harder into you.

“Wanna put it in,” Luffy groans and his voice is deeper than usual. “L-lemme put it in. Wanna feel you. Need it. N-need you to—to help me feel better.”

You whisper a hum of affirmation in his ear and he picks you up. Fuck it. He already made you cum. He’s begging for it. You decide to let him ravage you.

Luffy basically throws you on the bed and rips your clothes off. You realize that the door to your cabin is wide open—anyone could walk by and see this. You don’t have the willpower to care right now.

You’re lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Luffy grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand, pinning you down on the bed. His other hand steadies his cock flat on your inflamed, wet folds. He starts to thrust forward a bit, rubbing himself on your cunt, teasing himself before he finally fucks away the ice-cold blood in his veins and stokes that roaring heat his belly.

His cock gliding over your clit feels too good. If he keeps it up, you’ll cum a second time. “Luffy, fuck,” your whimper makes his heart pound. Reality fogs up more and he can’t think straight. He rubs his cock flat on your lips until you’re arching your back, then lines his tip up with your weeping entrance.

When Luffy pushes his cock into your slit slowly, he groans the whole time. “So fuckin’ tight, ‘s like you’re swallowing me whole, fuck. Y-you’re so warm, feels good.”

He’s shaking and shivering still. After a moment of being bottomed out, he starts to fuck you at a measured pace. He’s entranced by the way your tits bounce. He’s still drooling shamelessly, his pupils are blown with lust and he’s sweating. His free hand gropes up for your tits and plays with your nipples. Every time you moan his name, he feels like he’s an animal.

“Nnnnggghhhh, fuck, fuck, you’re—you feel so slippery,” Luffy feverishly grinds his hips into yours, hitting your deep and sensitive spots just right. “Feels weird and hot in my stomach, like s-something’s gonna happen.”

“Luffy, it feels too good,” you keen his name and squirm. “’m gonna cum soon.”

“W-wanna see,” he chokes out an answer between breathless thrusts.

He brushes your hot and soft spot, and you once again are drowning in pleasure, toe-curling and delicious. You cum, squeezing his shaft and milking out as much precum as possible.

He sounds like he’s hyperventilating. He’s truly going crazy. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm and you start to squirm. The sight goads him on.

“More,” he groans. “Please, more.”

Luffy rocks his pelvis into yours. His abs and arms are muscly and defined, his hair is sweaty, his eyes are totally dilated, and he’s looking at you like he’s going to fuck you for hours.

When he feels your walls clench down on him, he starts to cum. He seizes up and his cock plunges into your cunt. “F-fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m cumming, it—feels too good, feels so good, fuck.”

His thrusts are erratic while he pumps ropes of cum into you. He pauses and looks down at your cock-crazed face, closed eyes, and slack jaw. His cum is currently seeping out of your slit, coating the base of his shaft.

But even though he just came, his cock is already starting to pulse again. That one orgasm? It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He feels better than he did before, but still not back to normal. The fire and ice in his veins still runs strong, he feels like he's buzzing, like he’s an animal looking for a mate.

You think that he’s had his fill until he starts thrusting again, just as hard as before. After a minute, he shifts you. Luffy pulls out and picks you up again, maneuvering you so you’re laying on your bed with your stomach touching the covers. He gets on top of you and—fuck, he’s heavy. And his skin is boiling hot. You can feel the sheen of sweat on his chest when it presses on your back.

He has you in prone bone now, spreading your thighs wide with one of his hands. When he finally presses his cock into you, your back arches. It feels much deeper than before—is he using his devil fruit powers, or is his cock just this big?

“Fuck,” he’s rasping in your ear. His husky voice goes straight to your throbbing core—god, he sounds hot right now. You can feel his hot breath. One of his hands is braced next to your head as his cock rolls into you. He’s hitting the perfect spot and it’s starting to feel so good that you’re seeing stars. “Your pussy—feels so, so warm and good, I think it’s working.”

You lose track of time while his cock caresses your sweet spots. Before you know it, you’re cumming again. You hardly have the energy to let him know what’s happening. Is it the aphrodisiacs making his performance this good, or does Luffy just know how to fuck? How is he this good in bed?

When you squirm and cream on Luffy’s cock for the second time, he reaches a hand under you and thumbs your clit. He draws circles on it and presses it like a button. It feels like an electric shock—he has neglected it until now but still managed to coax three orgasms out of you. And while you are mildly overstimulated, when his fingers start dancing over your clit it turns up the notch of pleasure inside of you.

“Luffy, fuck that feels good,” a sort of guttural moan escapes your lips and you can’t help but buck your hips up and back onto his cock. “Don’t stop. Fuck.”

You’re keening through the waves of pleasure that he’s pulling out from you while he rams you with his cock. His heavy grunts are like music in your ears—feral, low, and ravenous. Your captain is absolutely railing you right now, and you like it. He more than likes it.

“So tight and, ah, so warm inside, like—aaghhhh fuck—like you’re made for me.” He groans and his thighs shudder. Is he cumming again? How many times is this? Second? Third?

Your mind is in a haze. He’s devouring you like a rabid animal. How many orgasms will it take to fend off his fever? How many hours until the aphrodisiac cookies wear off?

In your haze, filth starts to slip out of your mouth.

“F-fuck me harder, captain—please,” you mewl, and you can feel just the slightest pause in Luffy’s thrusts, barely noticeable. “Your cock feels so fucking good.”

After his pause, he starts pressing his weight harder on top of you, moving his hips at an angle so his cock is literally ramming into your cervix. The sensation is overwhelming, to say the least—painful but so, so good. You’re gasping for air and it’s hard to breathe because he’s on top of you. He’s literally fucking you like he’s in heat.

“Say that again,” he grunts and thrusts with each word but he’s struggling to get them out because he’s barely breathing. “Say it.”

“Captain, fuck, y-your cock feels so good. Fuck, captain.”

He’s somehow going faster, bringing you to another cliff, another ledge of euphoria from which to free fall. His cock bullies your bundles of nerves and your cunt squelches with each pass.

“C-captain, Luffy, please, fuck.” You’re spasming under him again, cumming on his cock for, what was that, the fourth time? Maybe it was the fifth. You’ve lost count. You didn’t know it was possible to cum this many times. You’ve also lost track of what words are coming out of your mouth. “Cumming, I’m cumming, y-your cock ‘s too good, captain, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’s right after you, jerking his hips deep into yours and cumming inside again. There’s so much cum leaking out of you that Luffy’s shaft is obscured by milky white goop. There’s a sizable puddle of it underneath of you. It’s going to leave an unfortunate-colored stain on your bedsheets. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

His hips are still bucking though. His cum just keeps… coming. It’s a visceral orgasm. It’s the final orgasm (for a brief refractory period). When he’s done shooting seed into you, he collapses on top of you.

It’s like you’re under a weighted blanket except its Luffy, he’s heavy as fuck, and his cock is in you. And damn, he’s sweaty.

But somehow this is the best sex you’ve ever had. And you have a sneaking suspicion that the night isn’t over yet.

When you protest and Luffy rolls off your back, you use all your strength to open your eyes and check on him. His chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, his eyes are closed, he’s still drooling but he looks decidedly better.

You bring a hand to touch his forehead again and he lets out another quiet whimper. He must be so sensitive still. Poor thing. But his fever is considerably better.

Sanji must have been right when he said there’s only one way to fix this aphrodisiac frenzy. You wonder what Sanji was saving those cookies for. The day you finally crawled into bed with him?

Pfffft. No, thank you. After round six or seven with Luffy, you’ll never look back. You truly didn’t expect your captain to fuck like this. Or to like being called captain when his cock is in you.

“Luffy, are you doing ok?”

He hums in response.

“Use your words. Luffy, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. Feels a lot better.”

When his chest slows, he starts to sleep. You’re left on your bed with a puddle of cum under (and inside) of you, and your captain sound asleep like a rock next to you. And fuck, the door is still open.

Hopefully no one heard that. Even if they had heard, oh well. Too late now to stress over it.

You close the door and turn off the light. Then, you get cleaned up and put your pajamas back on.

Luffy may be sound asleep, but you shove him around so he’s at a decent angle. You fall asleep together on your bed, cuddling, and sticky with sweat (and cum).

Of course, no more than two hours later, Luffy is awake and his cock is throbbing again. He tries to touch himself and make the heat go away but it isn’t working. So… he wakes you up. And that’s how rounds eight, nine, and ten go.

When his fever finally goes away, he’s left with a long-lasting craving that he can only satiate one way: you.

It should go without saying, but the next day you literally cannot walk. You hobble around, trying to play it off like you slept weird or something. Sanji rubs the whole thing in your face.

“How was last night, angel?” His smirk is sly and smug, teasing and suggestive.

“Sanji. Please. Not right now.”

“Do you want me to get more of those cookies sometime? Maybe we can eat them next?” He winks and you balk.

“Fuck off, Sanji.”

The chef chuckles and saunters away. He’s never going to let you live that down.

thank you for reading!!! ive been feeling a certain way about luffy recently. its just his fucking muscles in wano that have me in a chokehold. muscle make brain go brrrrrrrrr.

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

i'm posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.

[thehmn]

I wanted to make this post because we don’t see a lot of asexual characters in western media and despite him being from a hugely popular show (Seaside Hotel) you’re unlikely to know of his existence if you’re not from Denmark.

His name is Hjalmar Aurland and he’s one of the more sympathetic and realistic asexual characters I’ve seen. He lives in a time and place where asexuality as a concept doesn’t exist yet so he’s never labeled as such but rewatching the show made me realize that he acts exactly like the asexual people I personally know. Asexuality can mean a lot of things but his specific brand isn’t naive to sex nor is he repulsed by sex, sexual desire or thoughts simply doesn’t come naturally to him.

He can be convinced to have sex with his wife Helene but only if she appeals to their emotional bond. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not being forced or emotionally blackmailed to sleep with her. It’s simply that he understands sex is a way to show emotional love too and he wants to express that love for Helene when it’s important to her, and seeing as sex isn’t unpleasant to him, just kinda boring, he’s willing to do that for her.

Unfortunately that isn’t enough for Helene and despite her love for Hjalmar she starts an affair with the dramatic and emotional actor Edward Weyse. He has a string of relationships, marriages and divorces behind him because despite what it may look like from the outside Edward doesn’t really want shallow sexual relationships. He just can’t help himself and keep falling in love with women left and right, fully and wholeheartedly, only to be dumped or dump them once the initial excitement has passed.

So Helene and Edward’s affair that was only meant to satisfy their carnal desires quickly becomes romantic. Helene feels torn between him and Hjalmar who she still loves and Edward understands the difficult situation they’re both in while also feeling jealous of Hjalmar. And Hjalmar? He doesn’t catch on for years. He’s not stupid but his brain just doesn’t jump to sex. He just assumes they’re good friends and why shouldn’t his wife be allowed to have friends, even male ones? Things get really complicated when Helene gets pregnant and she has to have sex with Hjalmar so he won’t wonder how it happened. Edward even has to join in on the seduction, reminding Hjalmar how much Helene loves him, even though it breaks Edward’s heart to do so.

But like I’ve said Hjalmar isn’t stupid. He saw the signs but chose to ignore them until one night when Helene accidentally says Edward’s name. It breaks the dam in Hjalmar’s denial and he has to face that deep down he always knew. Overcome by sadness and betrayal he wanders off into the night in nothing but his nightgown and gets a room at a different hotel where he can think in peace. Eventually he agrees to return to the first hotel with Helene and Edward and decides to take control of the situation.

He sits them both down and tells them that he understands that the three of them share a bond and that there are things he can’t really do for Helene so from now on he wants their relationship to be open and honest. He wants Helene and Edward to keep seeing each other and Edward is welcome in their house, but Hjalmar wants to be allowed to call Edward by his first name and makes it very clear that Helene and Edward’s children “belong to him” because he still thinks of himself as their dad and loves them as his own children. Both Helene and Edward agrees to it, though the emotional Edward is very flustered and confused by the acceptance and love he’s being shown by Hjalmar.

This is obviously a very tv drama situation but I was so stuck by how much Hjalmar acts like my asexual friends. Having a lover for your partner isn’t the most common solution but it’s an idea I’ve heard a lot of asexual people be open to under the right circumstances and of course that’s the most dramatic solution for a romantic tv drama.

Hjalmar is defined by so much more than his sexuality though. His main characteristic is his passion for social justice and equality, and other than some early show weirdness before they really cemented the characters, Hjamler is the only character who floats freely between the men and women. He’s just as likely to sit with the men as he is the women, often appearing in otherwise entirely female spaces. It’s never questioned or even brought up, not because he’s a “safe asexual” but because he cares and think their worries are as important as the men’s. He’s often called a pessimist by the other men when in reality he is determined to be hopeful and compassionate and spread the love he feels the world is lacking as WWII draws closer.

So yeah, I just wanted to share this sweet ace guy with you because you probably wouldn’t have known about him otherwise.

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[goaskangel]

olderboyfriend!nanami headcanons

cw : age gap, 30-40's with 18+ reader, posessive/slightly toxic nanami, spanking, ccuuummmmm

olderboyfriend!nanami who comes your way, very unexpectedly. you could question why his instincts leaned towards a young lady like you, when he himself carries a sophisticated attitude with ironed suits and framed glasses. 

you’re not complaining, though!

olderboyfriend!nanami who takes his time to get you to warm up to him, knows he’s intimidating to the average person with his stoic and reserved resting face. but he knows a girl like you just needs a little more time. 

olderboyfriend!nanami knows how to schedule and work around things. always managing to take you on dates every friday, even through his tight work schedule. a dinner, a fancy local restaurant, maybe a movie or bar if he’s feeling playful. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who takes appreciation in every gesture you do for him. his sweet baby who goes out of her way to bake him a sweet treat or pick up his favorites from his dearest bakery. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who doesn’t only love you but guides you. feeling stressed out about work or university? don’t even worry—nanami’s got you all figured out. whether you need help organizing your messy set-up and schedules, or if you just need someone to talk too. he’s just always so reasonable and gives the best advice while understanding and listening to every word you say.

olderboyfriend!nanami who drives you around anytime you need. gotta run some errands? kento’s right outside, wanna go shopping? hell, his card’s already in your hands. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who can’t help but keep a hand on you, either for his own comfort or your safety, but he is very protective. taking quick glances of your surroundings as you pick through a clothing rack at your favorite store, his hands never leaving your waist or shoulders. he’s got to ensure his girl’s safety is all! and to make sure no guy your age thinks they’ve got a chance.  this goes for anywhere. taking walks with his arm around you and driving around with his hand on your thigh. especially at bars or parties, he knows how guys your age are. they don’t care about your well being, can’t take care of you like he can. obviously you’d be with somebody who’s already got it all figured out!

olderboyfriend!nanami loves domestic moments with you. his only motive to keep going throughout the week is for friday nights into saturday mornings—when he’s got you nice and comfy in his bed, or when he stays the night at your place, which is when he silently plans to get you moved in with him. 

he likes to feel you under him, or the feeling of you rubbing your face into his chest when you’re about to fall asleep. he runs his fingers through your hair, soothing himself to sleep.

NSFW

olderboyfriend!nanami who, along with being overprotective with his actions, tells you in bed. his mature hands running over and over your body as he fucks himself into you. kissing your pretty face between thrusts, and speaks, 

“can’t imagine myself without you, god—you’re all mine, y’know that, pretty? nobody’s gonna feel you and love you like i do. nobody.”

olderboyfriend!nanami who enjoys ending and starting his day with burying his cock into your sweet cunt. keeping you tightly against him as you cockwarm him into the morning. some days you’ll wake up before him, admire how his usually tamed, blonde hair runs messily with sleep. you’ll notice the morning wood he’s got going and take it as your duty to wake you precious, older man with a sweet morning treat. 

just how thankful he gets when he’s woken by your hot, young mouth around his length. his darling suckling at his creamy tip for breakfast. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who loves watching you touch yourself. maybe he’s got you twirling around in lingerie you brought for him with his card. he’ll lay you down and watch as you moan and grind your hips restlessly with your smaller fingers rubbing at your clit. teasing you, he’ll keep his greedy eyes on the way your pussy leaks with every praise he adores you with, his own hand adjusting himself through sweatpants. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who can’t himself when it comes to your skin. with his possessiveness, he just wants to mark you in any way possible. kissing your lips long enough until your lips are plump with blood and pouting from how he keeps teasing you. leaving love bites on your neck, trailing to your breasts, licking them softly to show some type of poise. sucking hickeys onto your neck, barely low enough to hide them with the collar of your work shirt. 

his favorite—when you’re acting up. get a little too comfortable with him, say something you know you’ll regret and you’ll end up over his knee. smacking handprints into your perfect body, putting you back into your place, he just can’t get enough of it. 

another favorite would be pumping load after load into your tight pussy. too many to count, thick and heavy loads of cum filling you to the brim. you could almost forget his older age with the stamina he’s got of a young man. aaa, he’s perfect, you wouldn’t take him any other way!

comments, reblogs, likes are always apperciated !

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