#there’s no way she didn’t because some of this shit is insane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 5 months ago

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played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader warnings: angst <3; VERY LONG

wrote this listening to roses <3

Rafe Cameron held grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that.

Fucking Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team. Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back.

The humiliation was killing him.

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he wanted it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t just enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not just by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really. To prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help of course.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a good choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like it was your superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party. You didn’t utter a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Hell, he didn’t even know you were a cheerleader until that night.

Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica.

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background.

You were perfect.

If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new queen of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought.

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. ‘M doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, and honestly, it made the challenge even sweeter.

“You think so?” he said, his tone light but with an edge of determination. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Come on, Cameron. You really think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t some movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot. Jessica had something that can’t be taught.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. She learned how to act the part, and I can do the same with her.”

Like a school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were.

Kelce took a swig of his drink, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a long way to go, my guy.”

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months. By the end of it, she’ll be turning heads. Maybe even more.”

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I’ll bet you a grand you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand says you can’t turn her into the hottest girl in school.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted with determination. “You’re on,” he said, without hesitation. “In a month or two, you’ll be handing me that fucking cash, and she’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. Looking all pretty in my arms.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again, still grinning as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

He clinked his glass with theirs, the bet sealed.

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless.

It was so good that even in his drunken haze, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed, like you were someone who mattered. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. And with Jessica, it had been easy—too easy. She’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal.

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice. At first, he didn’t approach you, just observed.

He had to figure out how to crack the code, how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took a week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf. “Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, a little startled, but nodded, shifting your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To make you feel special, to pull you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He knew he still had to tread carefully. The wrong move could send you running, and he couldn’t afford that.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. He noticed the way your hand shook slightly when you turned the page. Rafe leaned in a little closer, just enough to make his presence known without crowding you.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there. “I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were surprised. Probably didn't expect him to know you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you. “You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you actually know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push, didn’t try too hard. He wanted you to get comfortable with him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

The way you blurted the words out told him you hadn’t meant to say it.

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen in his hand. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling up, but he forced it down, keeping his expression calm. This was exactly what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name being brought up, especially by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that.

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was just a painful memory he was trying to move past. “Oh,” he said softly, his voice controlled and measured. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, clearly regretting bringing it up. “Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, as if he was grateful for your concern. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a small sigh as if he was relieved to talk about it, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle. “I guess it’s just one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he quickly disguised it as a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, well, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He noticed the way you seemed to relax as if you were relieved that he wasn’t angry. He needed to shift the conversation away from Jessica, and back to you, where it should be. “But hey,” he said, his voice brightening as if he was genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you looked away, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, his smile softening, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with those wide eyes, as if you were trying to figure him out. Rafe held your gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, leaning back in his chair as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

“Anytime."

It was a perfect conversation, one that made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal, something real. And from the look on your face, it worked.

But inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, even indirectly. It was a reminder of why he was doing this in the first place.

He plastered on another smile, picking up his pen and tapping it lightly against his notebook. “So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

As you both turned your attention back to your notes, Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction. He was winning that bet on way or another.

Over the next few weeks, Rafe made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel noticed, special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and with every passing day, you were warming up to him more and more.

He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention. The change was gradual, but it was happening, and Rafe could see it.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, the kind of place you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you belonged in a world that had always seemed so out of reach.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk. You hesitated, biting your lip, feeling out of place just imagining yourself in his world.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

His gaze was so earnest, so convincing, that you found yourself nodding. “Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

The first party was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that felt worlds away from where you belonged.

But Rafe stayed close.

The moment you walked in, the loud music and flashing lights overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, who noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd. He was different tonight—more confident, more assertive.

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to ignore. People were noticing. Whispering. It was exactly what Rafe wanted.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe kept you close as he greeted them, his hand never leaving your back.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, his smirk growing. “Well, well, Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, his smile more genuine. “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, feeling the weight of their attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away, replaced by something more calculating as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper leaned against the counter, his gaze following you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, his expression hardening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “Just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica. And if he pulls this off, it’s gonna be legendary.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—something he quickly buried as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand.

When you returned to the group, his expression softened instantly. He slipped back into the charming, attentive guy he’d been playing for you all night.

“Got something good?” he asked, nodding towards your drink.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

He snorted, nodding approvingly. “Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

The night went on like that, Rafe playing the perfect gentleman, always by your side, making sure you were comfortable, that you were enjoying yourself. He introduced you to more people, his arm around your shoulders, subtly guiding you through the social maze with ease. And every time you excused yourself—whether to grab another drink or use the restroom—his demeanor shifted. The smile would slip, and he’d share knowing looks with his friends, a silent acknowledgment of the game they were playing.

But you didn’t see any of that.

You saw the guy who made you feel like you were finally part of something bigger, like you belonged. And as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more, laughing, talking, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself start to come down.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, and tonight was just the beginning. He was getting what he wanted.

But as he watched you laugh at something Kelce said, genuinely enjoying yourself, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something else. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself why he was doing this.

He knew better than to get too comfortable.

He knew his ex wouldn’t stay out of his business forever, and sure enough, she confronted him right before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her right away, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. But he couldn’t resist; he turned to her, keeping his expression neutral. “What’s up?”

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him. Her voice was low, almost pleading. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, clearly not in the mood for games. “Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

Jessica’s eyes flashed with anger, but there was something else there too—guilt.

“No. You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

He leaned in closer, his smirk turning cold. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes—the way she’d smiled at him. The same smile she had for someone else, “You don’t get to apologize now. You don’t get to tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

"Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw, every word she said feeling like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to lash out, to tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done. But instead, he just stared at her, his eyes hard and cold.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention shifted from her. She had no right to lecture him, no right to tell him what to do.

This was about revenge, about proving a point. You were just a means to an end, nothing more.

But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game.

Every time you smiled at him, every time you thanked him for something small, it chipped away at the cold resolve he had built up inside. He told himself it was just part of the plan, that getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. But the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself.

He didn't even have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned. But instead of feeling satisfied, there was a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, yes, but it wasn’t just on the outside. You were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than just some popular guy who was doing you a favor. You were starting to care, and that terrified him.

One night, after another party where you had danced a little closer, laughed a little louder, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had. The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—it caught him off guard.

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d actually enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, trying to ignore the way his heart twisted at your words.

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

For a split second, he saw you. Not as a means to an end, but as someone he genuinely cared about.

His expression faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone noticed, someone everyone wanted to be around. And it was all because of him. Rafe had given you that, but he knew he was taking something from you too—your innocence, your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence wavering as you turned to face him. There was something different in your gaze tonight, something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began, your voice a little hesitant.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? I mean, really. Was it because you felt sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the right words, the ones that wouldn’t hurt you. He could lie, like he’d been doing all along, or he could tell you the truth, risk everything.

But before he could answer, you continued, your voice softer now. “Because… I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck. He’d never expected this, never thought that you would be the one to make him feel something real, something that wasn’t just part of his stupid revenge plan.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, your eyes shining with gratitud. It was too much, too real, and Rafe could feel the walls he’d carefully constructed around his heart starting to crumble. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

He couldn’t let you get any closer. If you did, he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan.

But pushing you away now, after all the effort he’d put in, would raise too many questions. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was gentle at first, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were something fragile. Your lips were soft against his, and for a moment, Rafe let himself forget why he was doing this. He let himself enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you sighed softly into his mouth.

But then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, so much hope, and it made him want to break something, anything, just to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong.

He knew it was wrong. But in that moment, with the way you were looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t afford to second-guess himself now. Not when he was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by something else—you.

Rafe’s resolve had been wavering for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a bit of a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing that smile.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already waiting outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle, but Rafe noticed.

He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you said as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him that small smile that always made his chest tighten a little. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago. “If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over at you as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar pang in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it,” Rafe teased, but there was an edge of something else in his voice, something he couldn’t quite shake.

The drive to campus was easy, filled with light conversation and the comfortable silence that had developed between you two. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

He froze for a split second, his mind racing. Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? But he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Rafe’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the moment he’d been dreading—the moment when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not?” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of sincerity that even he didn’t expect. “I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest. After a moment, you nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I just... I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just... new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with classes, coffee breaks, and more of Rafe’s effortless charm. But that moment in the car stuck with him. You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more.

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others. Some guys glanced your way, clearly noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat with you—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

As you two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her. He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that put him on edge.

The conversation flowed easily, with her complimenting you on something you’d done at practice the other day, and you blushing at the praise.

Rafe watched, a small smile on his face, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see how much you were changing, how you were starting to come into your own, and it was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

When Leila left after a few minutes, you turned to Rafe with a grin. “She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now,” Rafe replied, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked at him, your smile fading slightly. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, nothing. Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

He leaned back in his chair. “About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

Rafe smiled back, but the guilt was back, stronger than ever. You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him.

As the afternoon wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

Later that evening, after dropping you off at your dorm, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car. “I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, clearly not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice. “What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Like, genuinely nice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Kelce responded, his tone more serious.

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good. You’re flipping the script. Just remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add, but didn't.

“Look, Rafe, you’re in too deep to back out now. If you quit, she’ll still get hurt, and you’ll look like a fucking idiot. You gotta see this through. Just... keep your eye on the prize, okay? It’s not about her, it’s about Jessica.”

Rafe nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce said. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy leaned in, flashing you a charming smirk, clearly trying to flirt. He wanted to pummel his face to the wall. Rafe watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand casually resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

The sight made something twist in his chest, something dark and possessive that he hadn’t expected. He'd never felt like this before. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched, his jaw clenching.

You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. Rafe could tell you weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, something that burned hotter than the guilt. He wanted to go over there, to tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething, trying to keep his cool.

Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving. He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, his eyes locked on you, his heart pounding. You spotted him coming and smiled, but it fell when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could say another word, he was right in front of you, his hand cupping your face as he pulled you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. This was different. It was fierce, almost desperate as if he needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. His lips moved against yours with intensity, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. He didn’t care who was around, who was watching.

All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You froze for a second, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him, your hands clutching at his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor. It was like all the tension, all the confusion, everything that had been building between you two, finally snapped.

Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a soft moan that only made him kiss you harder, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get enough.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering, but Rafe didn’t care. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him—dazed, flushed, your lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

“What... what was that?” you asked, your voice shaky, your eyes searching his for answers.

Rafe knew he should say something, explain himself, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You blinked up at him, still trying to process what had just happened, but there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him.

He finally stepped back, but kept his hand on your waist, grounding you as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching.

Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words. She’s mine.

When he looked back at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes and something else—something that looked a lot like longing.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe said, his voice softer now. “We’ve got class.”

You nodded, still a little dazed, and let him guide you out of the cafeteria, his hand never leaving yours. He was in deeper than ever, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you looked at him like that, not when his heart was pounding like this.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours again. “Okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and trusting. Rafe knew he was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he leaned in for one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you began again, speaking against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming. His thumb traced the curve of your jawline.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “I just… I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

And just like that, he got what he wanted.

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t just happy; you were radiant. You’d become the most popular girl in school, and with him by your side, it felt like you were living in some sort of fairy tale.

Every smile he gave you, every touch, every whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day. And you, you had never felt this alive.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside every time he looked into your trusting eyes.

He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was just a stupid game, something that seemed so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now. He told himself that he had forgotten about it, that it didn’t matter anymore.

After all, what you two had is real, right? And you, completely oblivious to the sinister origins of your relationship, continued to believe in the fairy tale.

Until it ended.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere, but there’s something different today—a tension you can’t quite place.

As you’re zipping up your bag, you hear voices nearby, just around the corner. Leila and Jessica, their conversation low but unmistakable. You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause, your heart suddenly beating a little faster.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds tired, almost defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs, a dark amusement in her tone. "Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t think. The room spins around you, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, completely unaware of the devastation she’s causing. "It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

Before you know it, you’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words. Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, for some kind of escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

The ache in your chest doesn’t fade as you bolt from the locker room, tears hot on your cheeks. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, struggling to catch your breath. Rage and heartbreak twist inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through the doors without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears. The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, and the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills. But all of it fades into the background as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that intense focus you’ve always admired. For a moment, you hesitate, that familiar warmth of seeing him almost enough to make you stop. But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you like a wave, and the anger surges back, drowning out everything else.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, their eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring. The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!" you shout, your voice sharp, cutting through the noise of the practice.

He turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players stop, confusion rippling through the group. You always call him by his name.

The coach starts to say something, but you barely hear him. All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you.

Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his brow furrowing.

You don’t answer immediately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to hold yourself together.

But it’s impossible.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to something closer to horror, his mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing comes out. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief and pain, seems to have stunned him into silence.

For a moment, you just stare at each other. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding. But deep down, you already know the truth. You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that flicker of guilt, that flash of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control. You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him, to escape the unbearable weight of the truth.

His eyes are pleading, searching yours for something, anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing. No words, no excuses that can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, pain flashing across his face, but you can’t stop. It’s like all the anger, all the heartbreak, all the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent, and you don’t have the strength to hold it back. You can see the panic rising in him, the desperation as he realizes just how badly he’s messed up. He takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out, but you jerk away,

“We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

“No.”

And with that, you leave.

Rafe’s voice echoes behind you as you walk away, but you refuse to look back. The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

The locker room is cold and empty when you push open the door. The scent of body spray and sweat lingers in the air. You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. But before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you say, your voice barely holding steady.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained with desperation. “Not like this.”

You spin around, your eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

He takes a step closer, his hands raised as if to placate you, but you back away, your heart pounding. “I know I messed up,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “You let me believe that you cared about me, that everything was real, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, his voice cracking. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Rafe looks at you, his expression torn between guilt and desperation.

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

For a moment, you see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more. But it's not enough.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him, your back pressing against the cold metal of the locker.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

Rafe takes another step closer, “Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “Just give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You don’t get to pretend this is some kind of love story. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, really look at him, and all you see is the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie. You know that if you stay, if you let him talk, you might be tempted to forgive him. But you can’t.

Not this time.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice thick with desperation.

But you’ve made up your mind.

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

But then he sees the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you turn away from him, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. You hesitate for a split second. A small voice inside you screams to turn back, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction.

The image of Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense, sears itself into your mind.

The door slams shut behind him, and he leans against it, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious. Instead, there’s a hollowness, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind that asks, “What now?” He clenches his fists, trying to silence it, but the emptiness remains.

This time, he doesn’t follow you.

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mamasfavourite · 2 months ago

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queen cobra

pairing: axel kovaćevic x reader

summary: the captain of cobra kai catches the eye of the captain of the iron dragons and manages to deal with her teammates and her crush on axel!

warnings: mentions of abuse, some swearing, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst and a little implication of smut at the end, kwon is alive, axel is a sweetheart, kreese is rotting in jail !

cobra kai was never your preferred environment, but you fought to survive there, even when the others tried to influence you. you were a good person and you stood by that. you just had to mask it when in the dojo. it’s not like you would be there long, the dojo was just a way to the sekai takai for you.

and you fought like fucking hell for your spot as captain.

you even dealt with the endless bullshit literally everyone except kwon and tory threw your way. before karate, you had trained boxing and taekwondo, mastering both of them. so, it was easy to say you had the highest kick of everyone your team.

which really did come in handy in moments like this! like when kwon started a stupid bet with miyagi-do over whose kicks were highest. the highest anyone had gone was some kid from the russian team named vlad.

169cm.

kwon hid you for the time being, as the miyagi-do male captain and him faced off in front of the crowd of sekai takai contestants. when they shook hands, you watched as he put chalk to his shoe and swung his leg as high as he could.

175cm.

the crowd cheered, surprised by the height he had managed. you and kwon only laughed. he stepped to the side to let you foward. “show them, captain.”

you grabbed the chalk from the ground and locked eyes with robby as you rubbed it on your shoe. you kicked as high as you could, marking an almost inhumanely high point on the wooden whale statue.

you had to admit you couldn’t eyeball the measurements on that one, but you had won by far.

there was a mixture of gasps and applause as your cobras immediately crowded around you, celebrating your easy victory. you stepped foward to the miyagi-do’s, and stuck out your hand to accept your prize.

a whole room to yourself!

you and the cobras were walking back to the hotel. you all had met up with sensei kim at a karate gym on the other side of the city, and were only now getting back. you walked ahead of the others, not really wanting to speak to them right now.

as you entered the hotel reception, you noticed a few familiar people your age, they were most likely from the same dojo. you were walking quite slow so you had time to observe.

on the couches were, a dark skinned girl, who was chewing loudly and texting on her phone and an asian boy, who seemed to be staring into nothing at all.

as you turned your attention back straight, you saw an incredibly cute boy, he looked european to you in some way, maybe scandinavian.. or slavic? you didn’t care! he towered over you, and you took a second to appreciate his features, his messy brown hair and dark green eyes, his sculpted face and built arms.

you shot him a flirty smile as you kept walking, which almost made him drop the plates he was carrying.

“axel! what the fuck? can’t you hold a plate?” the girl from the couch called out. ‘oh so she was a bitch!’ you thought, but dismissed it as you continued walking, the cobras following closely behind, chuckling at the scene.

how could he! he was such a fucking prick. yoon was already getting on your nerves but you lost your shit when he was bitching at you just because you were chosen captain over him.

you unknowingly stomped past your locker room, and accidentally pushed into the wrong one. but you heard something and quieted down. you heard loud, echoing grunts, hits and yells of “ais!”

you snuck to the doorframe, sneakily peering inside and seeing the cute boy from the lobby the day before. he was training with his sensei, delivering strike after strike to the punching mitts ahead of him.

he was insanely focused, and incredibly strong. even through the gi, you could tell he was built. the force behind his punches were insane, but his sensei withdrew from him immediately.

“what are you doing wrong?” his sensei yelled firmly and all of a sudden the incredibly powerful demeanour axel had just flaked away. he flinched as the older man threw the mitts to the floor.

you watched as his sensei struck the poor boy, you had almost grown attached to. not once, not twice. you could tell he had to hold himself back after the third time. he picked up the mitts and commanded axel to continue.

but before he even landed a second punch, the mitts were on the floor again and axel was being hit. you heart hurt to watch it. you let out a soft gasp.

axel turned his head at the sound and saw you, you shot him a sad smile and walked through the hallway, hearing his sensei yell at him as you kept walking forward.

the cobras wanted to go somewhere and get drunk, and as their captain, you had to go. plus you had secretly hoped you might bump into the guy you had been crushing on for the last two days.

kwon was slumped against the counter, trying to maintain a conversation with you, but miserably failing. yoon and the others were standing around tory, trying to make their lazy advances that seemed to go completely unnoticed.

“씨발, 나 산책하러 가야 돼.. 안전하게 지내라, 얘들아 (fuck this, i’m going on a walk, get home safe boys.)” tory practically growled at you, still insulted by the fact she couldn’t speak your language but the remainder of the team telling you goodnight or to stay safe.

you left your half empty bottle of beer on the counter as you walked out, heading straight for the beach. it was calm, and quiet, and for a second you thought you heard the same sounds as earlier.

“ais! ais!” you heard and you recognised the voice, turning to watch as axel stood a couple metres away from you, shirtless, practising his kata. you watched for a couple moments before you spoke up.

“that’s a really cool kata, what’s it called?” he immediately turned around. he smiled at the sight of you and answered softly, “it’s called enpi.”

you nodded and were about to answer before he spoke again, “i don’t mean to be rude, but it’s a pretty common kata, and you’re an incredible fighter, i’m shocked you don’t know it.”

you looked at the floor for a second, before meeting his eyes, as they watched you. “it’s okay! i’m originally a kick-boxer and i studied taekwondo, so that’s my more proficient area.. i can apply a lot of it to karate though so it’s perfect!”

he nodded and gave you a small smile as he continued the conversation with you. “you’re incredibly strong in karate, i wouldn’t have noticed!” he spoke to you.

you stepped closer to him and brushed his arm. “thank you, you’re very strong, i mean clearly.” you said, trying to make it clear you were flirting with him. “i-thank you.” his smile turned bashful and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“you’re amazing.” he said, and immediately paused to reformulate his statement. “i-mean your dojo’s amazing!” you beamed at him. he was honestly so cute you wanted to squeal sometimes.

you smiled, about to speak but he beat you to it once more. “can i join?” he asked you, and you immediately felt yourself get kind of excited at the idea.

“the cobras? i mean, the boys are stupid but kwon’s okay, he just tries to overcompensate when he’s around others but he’s such a sweetheart i promise-“ you began to ramble.

“i meant your walk..” he replied, almost annoyed with himself that he interrupted you once more. you smiled at him once more and accepted. “of course!” you watched as he turned around to grab his jacket.

your eyes fixed on his back, and the scars covering it. you touched them experimentally and felt his body tense under your hand. “i-i’m sorry.. are you okay?” you asked him, empathy laced in your voice.

he quickly grabbed his jacket and put it on, hiding his back from you. “i’m okay.” he quickly dismissed you. you slid your hand into his and nodded somberly. the pair of you started to walk towards the footpath.

you responded to him. “you don’t have to talk to me about it, but i know what it’s like to have an abusive sensei and it’s always okay to not be okay.” you turned your head to face him as he did the same for you.

“thank you. it means a lot.” he smiled softly as you both stood still and he stared at your face. you asked him to lean down a little bit, claiming you had a “secret” to whisper to him.

once he was close enough to your height, you reached onto your tippy toes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. you let out a soft giggle as you did and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart beat out of his chest.

you had stumbled upon the cobras, well not all of them, but yoon and a few others. they were clearly drunk and yoon smirked as he saw you. “y/nnn, who’s the guy?” yoon asked, cockily as he dragged out the last letter.

axel’s hand tightened protectively against yours.

“who would’ve thought our captain’s with the enemy..” another boy pressed behind him, and you couldn’t quite make out who it was but it enraged you. you replied to them sharply, with authority.

“you know, i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter was being preyed on by a bunch of drunk losers on her team.” that’s when the remainder of the cobras scattered, but yoon stood in place. you were loosing your patience, and so was axel.

“and i’m sure sensei kim would love to hear that her star fighter is fucking around with some pussy off the hong kong team.” yoon cockily challenged you, but axel stepped forward instantly.

you put a hand on his chest and pushed him back, reassuring him you’d handle it but he kept his fists clenched in preparation.

you stepped towards yoon and spoke to him loudly. “지난번에 팀원 중에 나한테 엉뚱한 짓을 한 사람이 있었던 걸 기억나? (remember what happened the last time someone on the team fucked with me?)” he swallowed and waited for you to continue.

“그러니 그런 일이 일어나기 전에 빨리 호텔로 돌아가세요. (so get your pussy ass back to the hotel before it happens to you).” and with that, he sprinted in the opposite direction, following after his teammates.

you turned back to axel and smiled, “i’m so sorry, you had to be there for that.” you spoke softly to axel and you felt his rough hands envelope yours. “it’s okay, i’m sorry you have to put up with that.” he answered. gazing into your eyes.

“it’s okay, it’s not your fault. it’s all you expect from egotistical teenage boys.” you smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

“i’m not like that, am i?” he asked you, worried that he was like them. you instantly shook your head. “nonono, axel, not at all.” your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes and he noticed it.

he held himself back, with the worry that you may have only done it as a mistake, or a way to make sure he was comfortable. he released one of your hands and the pair of you kept light conversation as you walked.

outside your hotel, he stopped. “we’re in the same hotel, axel, we don’t need to split up.” you turned to face him and watched as his brow furrowed slightly, in thought. he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

you leant into his touch and looked up at him, knowing it was his way of making a move. you reached as high as you could to put a hand on the back of his neck, and the other rested on his chest as you pulled him into you.

his lips met yours. they were soft and you couldn’t help yourself. his hands reached down to your waist before he pulled away.

“we should probably go to our rooms now.” he said, and you giggled softly, once again, still excited from your kiss. you nodded in agreement, as you held hands again and walked to the elevator.

as soon as the doors shut, he couldn’t help himself any more and pressed you softly against the wall as you continued what you had done just a few minute prior, outside the hotel.

except this time, it was deeper, and it was hungry. his hands wandered over your body, tapping under your thighs, telling you to jump, and as you did, his strong arms held you, kneading at the flesh there as he continued to attack your lips.

at some point, when the pair of you were so wrapped up in eachother, the elevator doors opened. he frowned as you pulled away from him and commanded him jokingly to “put you down!”

he did, and just as you were about to leave, he spoke up once more. “let me walk you back.” and you accepted, still giddy from your stolen kisses.

once you reached your door you smiled and leant up to peck him on the cheek. “goodnight, axel!” and just as you turned around he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him once more.

he kissed you one last time before you went inside. “goodnight beautiful.” he smiled as he started walking away. it took you too seconds before you called after him, dragging him back once more.

“axel, i do have a room to myself… if you wanted to put it to good use?”

#axel kovacevic x reader #axel kovacevic #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #kwon jae sung #kwon jae-sung #karate kid #fan fiction #axel x reader #iron dragons

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wwooyology · 7 months ago

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Rough Me Up | P.JS

「pairing」 : bf!jay x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.2k

「synopsis」 : you and jay have been together for a few years and you couldn't be happier, but there's was something about your sex life that was just too plain. too vanilla. you wanted something more, but you were scared to ask so you rant to your best friend, only this is..... jay heard everything and he plans on giving you everything you want and more.

「genre」 : smut, tinge of fluff

「warnings」 : MINORS NOT INTERACT!!, cussing, mentions of porn, making out, degration, praising, petnames (princess, baby, love, slut, good girl...), choking, breath play, begging, oral (f. receiving), biting/marking, fingering, manhandling, dom!jay x sub!reader, slight teasing, cum eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie, hair pulling, spitting, bulge kink, breeding kink, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : I would like to wish a very beautiful girl a very happy birthday! happy birthday nessa (aka @heeslomll) I hope you've had an amazing day and that you enjoy this fic I pulled together as a present! I love you sm and can't wait to hear what you think 🤭

“You don’t get it Nia,” You pinched the bridge of your nose, eyes closed as you paced the ground by the end of you and Jay’s shared bed, “you and Jungwon actually have an interesting sex life.” you could recall the times that she had called gushing about all of the new things that they would try, whether you really wanted to know or not.

“Then talk to him girl, it wouldn’t hurt and hey maybe he’s just been scared you wouldn’t be into it.” Nia shrugged from the other side of the phone, she had heard this conversation from you countless times. Even more here as of late because you had just got off your period and were going insane because of ovulation.

You groaned once more, “what am I supposed to tell him? ‘Hey Jay I’m tired of the boring shit you should tie me up and fuck me till I pass out’ or maybe ‘I want you to pull my hair and spit in my mouth’.”

Nia burst out laughing on the other side of the phone causing you to roll your eyes as you walked over to the window. The thoughts of Jay doing all of those things to you were making you all hot and bothered, your thighs subconsciously rubbing together to try and relieve some of the pressure.

“Girl, how much porn have you been watching?” She asked between laughter, “just ask him if he would consider it, you know how much he cares about you y/n.”

You sigh, shaking your head. You knew she was right, that all you had to do was talk to Jay about it, but you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by it. What if he thought that you didn’t enjoy the sex that you did have? Or what if he thought you were weird for being into the more kinkier side of things?

Clearing your throat you just decided that you would just keep your mouth shut, too embarrassed. Biting at your bottom lip you just told Nia that you would call her later and she sighed before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Your whole body felt warm, needing to fill your veins, but Jay was downstairs cooking dinner so you weren’t going to bother him. Trying to shake the feeling off a bit so you could take a shower to maybe cool off, you turned only for your breath to hitch in your throat.

Jay stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Your heart started to race, heat creeping up your neck, praying that he had just gotten there and didn’t hear a word of your conversation. Your tongue jutted out to wet your lips as you tried your best to keep his intense eye contact.

“H-Hey baby,” You cured yourself for stuttering, instantly giving yourself away. “Is dinner done?” You tried to keep your voice steady as you watched him push off of the door frame, walking towards you.

All of the hairs on your body stood up as Jay made his way closer, his eyes bore into you like a wolf stalking a rabbit. Swallowing thickly you started to back away with every step that he made towards you.

Your heart was beating loud enough that you were sure that he could hear it and your face felt so warm that you started to wonder how you hadn’t passed out yet.

“Jay?” You called out his name as your back came into contact with the wall, stopping your movements. “What are you-”

“You know…” He cut your words short as he closed the space between you, hand pressed against the wall next to your head taking in the panic in your eyes. Your heart nearly stopped when he leaned down until his lips were right next to your ear, “I never thought my sweet little princess was such a nasty slut.”

Your eyes went wide as he backed away to meet your eyes once more, he had heard the conversation. So many things started to spiral in your head, did he really think that? Had you grossed him out?

All of those thoughts came to a screeching halt when he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up until his lips were merely inches away from yours. Your eyes flutter closed waiting for him to close the space between you. However, he doesn't instead he rubs your bottom lip with his thumb, prompting you to open your eyes.

“Is that something you really want, princess?” He asked, eyes searching yours as you looked up at him. Not having the courage to speak the words you went with nodding your head softly, but Jay just shook his, “I’mma need to hear you say it love.” His voice dropped an octave making your knees weak.

Swallowing thickly, “yes, I want this Jay. Please.” your voice was merely a whisper, but the male had heard it nonetheless.

“Good girl.” Jay’s voice was like honey, coxing you into a trance. Your eyes fluttered closed once more as he closed the gap between the both of you, stealing the air from your lungs. His lips were soft against yours, moving slowly as his hand moved from your chin to encase your throat causing a small squeak to leave you lips, but it was quickly swallowed by his lips.

“Jay.” You whined as he pulled his lips away from yours trailing down your jaw, nipping at the skin. The hand around your throat moved away allowing him to leave wet, hot kisses along your jugular.

You could feel your panties growing wetter and wetter by the second as his hands roamed your body, squeezing your hips before trailing down to your thighs.Before you could even process it Jay lifted you off of your feet, hoisting you up his hip. In seconds Jay’s lips were back on yours as he walked towards the bed, laying you down on the soft mattress. Small whines fell from your lips as his hands wandered from your inner thigh to your core, pressing down enough to elicit an actual moan from your lungs.

Jay pulled away from you so he could take in your dazed eyes, your kiss swollen lips and how your chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. He had been holding back for so long, thinking that you wouldn’t like how rough he could be, but seeing how desperately you had wanted it when you were on the phone with your friend. It was driving him crazy thinking about how much he could ruin you.

His eyes followed your hands as you reached for the hem of his shirt, but he was quick to grab your wrists, holding them in place.

“Here’s the deal baby,” He looked down at you with a lust filled gaze causing you to bite your lip, “if you want this, we’re doing things my way, meaning…” Dropping your hands he grabbed your thighs pulling your lower body flush against his and a gasp escaped from your lips as you felt his erection against your clothed core. “You just be a good girl and listen.”

You nodded quickly, the need to have him touch you growing way too strong to care. Jay smirked knowing that you were already losing yourself, making his job a bit easier. Biting his lip he leaned back over you, pressing his bulge against you, watching your eyes roll slightly.

His hands moved to the hem of your shorts, fingers looping around the band to pull them down. Your whole body was tingling with excitement, you weren’t sure what to expect but you were going to take anything and everything that he has to offer you.

“Jay, please.” You whined, lifting your hips slightly, your body shivering when you felt him against you.

Chuckling, Jay made quick work of your sleep shorts and underwear, leaving your bottom half completely bare. Once the articles of clothing were discarded elsewhere in the room, he moved down until he was face-to-face with your dripping cunt. Your heated gaze followed after him, watching in anticipation.

“Oh you’re dripping baby,” He teased as he spread your folds, taking in the way your hole clenched around nothing. A gasp fell from your lips when buried his face in your cunt, nose bumping your clit as he inhaled your scent. “Fuck princess, you smell so sweet.”

Your thighs already started to tremble when he licked a stripe up your slit before wrapping his lips around your clit. A loud moan ripped through your throat when he started to devour your pussy like it was his last meal.

“Fuck Jay!” You cried out, your hand flying to his head, finger gripping on his hair. You back arched off of the bed, pushing your hips further into his face causing him to groan. Jay was quick to press his hand flat down on your stomach, keeping you in place.

Choked moans fall from your lips as your head falls back, fingers gripping Jay’s hair tightly. The pain only spurred Jay on further.

Sparks flew across your vision as he moved down to your slit, tongue moving along your velvet walls while his nose rubbed your clit in ways that left you seeing stars. Your orgasm was right on the tip of your tongue and your legs shook on either side of his head.

“F-Fuck! Jay!” You cried out as your body started to spasm, toes curling as your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head as he moves back up to your clit, sucking on it harshly. “Jay, ‘s too much.” Whimpers fall from your lips as he keeps up his pace throwing your body into overstimulation.

“You can take it baby,” He pulled away, allowing your vision to focus for a moment, until his fingers started to trace your entrance. “This is what you wanted after all.” Then he slipped his middle and ring finger inside of your soaping cunt with little to no resistance. Your back started to arch once more, but his hand on your stomach pressed down firmly causing you to whine.

“J-Jay… fuck!” You moaned out as the pace of his fingers picked up, rubbing one picurlier spot which left you lying there breathless. “Jay, shit please.”

Jay didn’t say a word as he latched his lips back to your clit, completely losing himself in the taste of you.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your mouth gaped open, your head falling back. Stars danced across your vision, your whole body shaking underneath Jay’s hold. The pace of his fingers was relentless as he easily found the spongy spot inside your pussy, making you cry out his name. Your whole body tingled as all of your senses became overwhelmed, thighs trembling, threatening to close. Noticing this, Jay took his hand from your stomach to grip one of your thighs tightly.

You weren’t able to give him a warning as you came around his fingers, as he continued to suck on your clit in time with his fingers. Feeling you squeeze around his fingers as you cried out his name left Jay groaning against you.

“Fuck baby, you came so much.” He cooed at you as his fingers continued to work into your sensitive cunt, prolonging your orgasm until you shook tremendously.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall as he rubs your sweet spot once more. Your hand falls from his hair to grab at his wrist, hoping to pull his hand away from your sensitive pussy.

“Come on, princess, give me one more.” He smirked as he kissed his way up your tummy, moving your shirt out of the way. You whined when his thumb made contact with your clit, your head falling back, allowing Jay to latch his lips to the soft skin of your neck.

“Jay, I can’t, please.” You whimpered as you clenched around his fingers once more, your orgasm right on the horizon, but Jay just sped his fingers up more, causing a choked moan to fall from your lips.

“Take it like a good girl, and stop whining.” He growled against your skin, making your head spin at the tone. Moving away from your neck, he hovered over you, taking in the fucked out expression on your face with a smug smirk. “You are a good girl, right?” He asked, watching in amusement when you shook your head vigorously, biting your bottom lip.

After a few more strokes of his fingers, you came undone around Jay’s fingers for the second time, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as silent screams fall from your lips. Jay’s fingers move along your silky walls, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Your chest heaved as Jay pulled his drenched digits from your core, bringing them up to tap on your bottom lip, looking at you expectantly. You looked at him with dazed, wide eyes.

“Go on, clean my fingers; this is your mess, after all.” He raised an eyebrow, tapping your lips once more, prompting you to open them. He watched with a smirk as you allowed him to stick his soaked fingers into your mouth.

Wrapping your lips around his fingers, tongue dancing around his digits. Your brain nearly short-circuited at the taste of your own release. Jay bit back a groan, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight.

Once he deemed his fingers clean enough, he pulled them from your mouth, watching the string of saliva grow thin until it snapped. You breathed deeply as he moved away from your body, tugging at the strings of his sweatpants.

Your eyes stayed trained on his body as he pulled his shirt over his head, allowing you to ogle at his toned stomach. Feeling your eyes on him, Jay looks over at you, meeting your eyes and sending you a wink. Heat crept up your neck as you kept his eye contact.

After Jay had discarded all of his clothing, letting his hard cock spring free, beads of precum decorating the tip. Your thighs clenched together at the sigh, mouth-watering, wanting nothing more than to crawl to him and let him use your throat until he was content. However, Jay had a different plan, leaving that idea for the next time.

Jay made his way back to the bed, sitting down where his back was pressed against the headboard. You sat up on shaky arms, watching and waiting for his instructions, not wanting to do anything against his command.

“Come here, princess.” He motioned you forward and you did as told, moving towards him on shaky legs.

His hands grab your hips as you straddle his waist, your heart hammering in your chest as the need starts to creep up your spine once more. One of your hands gripped his shoulder while the other went down to his dick, starting to line it up with your entrance. Jay couldn’t help but chuckle at how desperate you were to have him in you.

However, his grip on your hips tightened, keeping you from sinking down onto him fully. A whine tore through your throat as you looked at him with teary eyes. You tried to wiggle your hips as you felt his tip prodding at your entrance, but not quite going in.

“Mmm, what do good girls do?” He asked, leaning forward to press hot kisses along your collarbone. You whined, fingers digging into his forearms as you fought against his grip, just wanting to sink down onto him. Noticing that you weren’t going to do as he said, he pulled away, a hard gaze fixed on his features. “Don’t make me ask again.” Jay’s voice was cold, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

A whine fell from your lips as you met his heated gaze. The tears that pooled at your waterline broke free. Frustration bubbled in your chest, biting on the inside of your cheek. You wanted to talk back and tell him to just let you ride him, but you had a feeling that doing so would just result in the opposite. Then it clicked in your brain: This could be what gets you what you want.

“Just fuck me, Jay.” You sassed with a roll of your eyes and it was then that something switched in Jay’s mind. Something clouds his mind as he flips the two of you around until you are lying on your back, staring at him with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something, but only a small squeak came out as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, staring up at him, body wiggling underneath him in anticipation.

“What happened to my good girl?” Jay asked the corner of his lip twitching and his eyes growing dark.

You couldn’t help the smirk that started to spread on your lips. You were not entirely sure what was coming over you, but the insatiable need to act out was stronger than ever. The expression, however, only annoyed Jay further, though your next words finally pushed him over the edge.

“The good girl is gone, Jjong, fuck me like the slut that I am.” Your voice was sweet like honey as you stared up at him with doe eyes.

“So you wanna be treated like a slut?” He chuckled darkly, causing more heat to pool in the pit of your stomach, “then I’ll treat you like a slut.”

He then slid inside your wet heat in one go, causing your jaw to go slack, eyes rolling back. Broken moans fall through your lips as his pace picks up, not giving you a moment to adjust. His hold on your throat tightens as he fucks into you, dark spots clouding your vision.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl?” Jay chuckled, hips snapping into yours, hitting all of the right spots deep inside of your cunt.

His hold on your throat tightens until you are left with very little oxygen supply, making your brain go hazy. Jay watched smugly as your mouth opened, gasping as he positioned his cock into your cunt. It wasn’t until your nails were digging into his wrist, gasping for breath and walls clenching around him tightly, that he loosened his grip, allowing you to breathe.

“Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me so tight.” Jay groaned, his other hand squeezing your hip to keep you in place. As you started to squirm, the sensitivity started to get to you. He watched as your mouth dropped open once more, and a thought flooded into his mind.

Leaning down, “Stick your tongue out, princess.” His voice was husky as he bit back a groan from how tight you were squeezing him, a tell-tale sign that you were close. You whined as he brushed over your sweet spot, pulling more tears from your eyes. Moving his hand from your neck, he grabs your cheeks, smooshing them together, making your eyes focus on him. “Stick your tongue out,” Jay repeated himself with a growl and this time you did as told, letting your tongue loll out.

Jay gathered a ball of saliva in his mouth before spitting into your mouth, watching as it slid down your tongue, which only made him ten times harder. When you closed your mouth to swallow without him telling you to do so, he groaned.

“Jay!” You screamed his name as he slammed into you roughly, inching you closer to your orgasm, black dots clouding your vision.

“Are you close already, baby?” He cooed mockingly as he removed his hand from your face to place it back on your throat, squeezing until a choked moan came from your lips. His other hand then moves down to circle your clit, eliciting a breathless cry from your lungs.

With a few more tweaks of his fingers on your little bundle of nerves had you falling over the edge. Your back arched off of the bed, a strangled cry falling from your lips as your walls started to flutter around Jay’s cock. Jay groaned loudly as he continued to pound into you, relishing in the lewd sounds that came from your spasming cunt.

“Fuck princess,” He chuckled but was cut off as you squeezed him rather tightly, nearly knocking him over the edge as well, but he wasn’t quite ready yet. So he slowed his movements until he was completely still, allowing you to breathe for just a moment.

“J-Jay…” You whined when he pulled out of your abused pussy, but you couldn’t help but feel empty and want nothing more than to have him stuff you full once more.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to beg him to fuck you full of his cum, he let go of your throat and flipped your body around until you were lying on your stomach. A gasp fell from your lips when he grabbed your hips to pull you up, laying on your knees and forearms.

“We’re not done yet, still gotta stuff my little slut full of my cum.” He teased your entrance with his tip once more, listening to your whines, “Stuff you so full you’ll be lucky I don’t get you pregnant.”

A choked gasp fell from your lips as he slid into once more, your cum and slick, making it far too easy to do so. Your eyes roll at the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix with each thrust, making your whole body tremble from the oversensitivity.

“You would like that thought, wouldn’t you?” Jay teased, hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to fuck into you, “You’d look so fucking hot carrying my baby.” He groaned, just thinking about how swollen your belly would get or how big your breasts would grow; the thought nearly made him bust then and there.

“Please,” You cry out, face muffled by the pillows as your tears stained the fabric under you. Your brain turns into mush as he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, making stars dance across your vision.

However, Jay didn’t like how quiet you had gotten, wanting to hear every little sound you made. So he removed one hand from your hip to trail up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake until he got to your head. He wrapped his hand in your hair before tugging upward, lifting your body and causing a loud whine to slip from your lips.

“J-Jay, ‘s too much. I can’t-'' You cried out, tears spilling from your eyes. Your body felt overwhelmingly warm as another orgasm crept up your spine, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.

“You can, baby, I know you can.” Jay’s voice turned soft, making your mind reel as your head fell back onto his shoulder while his hands fell back to your hips.

Your vision was going hazy as you wrapped your hands around his forearm, trying to ground yourself. However, when Jay pressed down on the bulge in your lower tummy, that little band snapped, and you came all over his cock once more, silent cries falling from your lips as you went lightheaded.

“That’s my good girl; you did so good for me.” Jay cooed against your head, hand moving up to your sternum to hold you close to his body as his own orgasm hit, spilling deep into your womb. His thrust slowed until they came to a full stop inside, plugging his seed in your still tight hole.

Jay pressed soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, waiting until your breathing evened out and you opened your eyes. Once your eyes were open, he pressed a soft kiss against the skin of your cheek.

“Let’s get cleaned up so we can eat dinner.” He whispered softly, trailing kisses along your jaw. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus your vision before nodding, allowing him to take care of you like he normally does.

After you both cleaned up and ate dinner, you were sitting on the couch, cuddled up under a blanket, watching whatever movie you had agreed on. You lay against his chest, playing with his fingers that were wrapped around your waist.

“Princess,” His voice jolted you out of your thoughts, and you hummed, looking up at him. “Don’t ever be scared to talk to me about stuff like that, okay?” He told you, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you further into him. “I want to make it enjoyable for both of us.”

You felt your chest tighten at the guilty look on his face. Turning around, you sat on your knees in front of him, cupping his face in your hands.

“I will. I promise, my love, and don’t feel guilty, please.” You pouted slightly before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Jay chuckled against your lips before closing the gap and sealing your lips in a gentle and sweet kiss.

The two of you then parted, and you laid on his chest, relishing in his warmth. Jay wrapped his arms around you before turning his attention back to the TV. Not quite tired yet, but once you fell asleep, he turned everything off and carried you to bed.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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cheyisagirlkisser · 15 days ago

Note

Hi! Can you please write about Ellie getting head for the first time <3

warnings: oral sex, sub!ellie omg this is a rare occasion for me, porn with little plot

She didn’t know why you liked her so much, but Ellie didn’t complain. Not one bit.

You invited her over for the usual–a sleepover with yellow, buttered popcorn and a movie. The past few times she had stayed over, she tried not to even admit it within the depths of her brain. You made her weak, like a beggar that couldn’t be satiated. You were the one thing that made her lose focus from even Star Trek, and that was unnatural. It wasn’t unwelcome by any means, but it was definitely not convenient for Ellie.

She couldn’t understand why you chose her of all people. She reasoned with herself that you didn’t technically choose her for anything. You two were just friends, and the flirting you threw upon the nerve-wracked girl was only the words that girls can exchange without having to be romantically involved. Right? Probably not.

The past few times, you only let your touch linger in small lengths. Your hand crept upon her arm, fingernail brushing against her tattoo. You made her breath shorten in a way that she wanted to be annoyed about. Each night was torture, and yet she found herself back on your couch, stuffing her mouth with microwaved Orville as you simply squeezed her hand with your own. The act itself was innocent, sweet. Ellie guessed that you got bored, because soon you were kneeling between her for the first time, and your lips were brushing against her jeans.

“How far are you gonna take this?” Her voice carried a blend of nerves and need. There was always a thickness to her voice, something that sounded so uniquely like your Ellie that gave your pussy a heartbeat.

Mouth moving to kiss her clothed hip and a soft mumble, “I’ll eat this pussy if you’ll let me.”

Fuck, Ellie had never heard such filthy words come out of that pretty mouth of yours. Not anywhere but her wet dreams, at least. She tried to adjust her hips and keep herself together, but you were faster. Your hands were on her thighs, fingers spread out. She groaned and let her head fall back on the couch.

“Do whatever you want.”

You surely didn’t waste time once given the go-ahead.

Ellie’s bush was a pretty sight. Her clit was already swollen, and her pussy glistened with the light of the tv screen and her juices coating her folds. You were between her eagerly opened legs, but it was staring at you, begging to be devoured. You offered kisses across her thighs to be polite, but you were quite impatient. Soon, your mouth was all over her like the first round of Thanksgiving dinner.

Ellie was losing her shit above you with each smacking sound your mouth left on her pussy; your tongue lavished over her bead and the pressure inside her was building, making it all nearly unbearable. She was like a pretty painting, legs shaking like jelly as she bit her lip to keep her mind functioning. It was so hard not to completely go insane and let herself just beg you to fuck her all night, though. She had a feeling that you would be.

You let her use your face without complaints, taking each sloppy buck of her hips with ease. Ellie could only fall apart when she peeked down. She could see the way you relentlessly worked her, and could only envy the fact that you didn’t look that phased by it. Lick after lick, pressing more pressure onto her before she finally couldn’t take it.

“I think I’m gonna cum-” she cut herself off with a moan and didn’t try to continue, not trusting herself to speak again without whining some incoherent, needy chants.

You nodded.

How were you so chill about this? She couldn’t take it anymore, and soon she was tugging your hair and coating your face with her cum.

You made her feel dizzy in a way no previous, self-given orgasm could make her. It was like a sharp hit to her clit that pulsated throughout her entire body, reaching her brain until it faded into waves of pure bliss. Her hips lazily lifted themselves up and down, and you tongue-fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like a complete blackout, but when she finally felt like herself again, she glanced down to see your cheek resting on her stomach. You were like a vision from above, sculpted out to look just like this: features all in purpose, and your hair messy from her fingers grasping it.

All too soon, you were sitting yourself down onto her lap, cupping her face and smothering her freckled cheeks in pecks. The way you only gave her sweet kisses made her head spin with the contrast of your tongue peeking into her hole just a few moments ago.

“Wanna watch Jersey Shore?”

You confused the hell out of Ellie sometimes, and she hated reality tv. But.. you did just fuck her brains out. Jersey Shore it was.

a/n: guys guys i'm working on fics i'm in a bit of a smut rut so idk if this is any good but i had to write SMTH

#requests #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie smut

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featherandferns · 8 months ago

Text

risk (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | partly inspired by this incredible scene

content warnings: sexual content; physical violence

word count: 18k.

blurb: after a hurricane, a Labrador shows up at JJ's house. After some posters go up around the country, JJ begrudgingly returns the dog to you on Figure Eight. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

This is actually insane.

JJ has no idea how everything went to shit faster than a penny falling from the top of the Empire State Building. It seems to be the crux of his life.

One minute Rafe is beating the shit out of JJ’s face, Kelce holding him tight in a headlock, with Pope being strangled to his right by Topper, and the next everyone is still like rock.

There you stand, holding up a gun, safety unlatched, with the aim set directly at the centre of Rafe’s forehead. He’s already called your bluff once. It’s a classic Mexican stand-off. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next, not even JJ. Hell, he’s not even sure if you know what you’ll do next.

And it’s crazy to think that all of this started because of a dog.

Two Months Earlier

It always sucks when JJ admits to himself that Kiara was right. She was right about most things, in fairness, but just this once – just for a change – he had hoped that she wasn’t.

The blonde-haired boy stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a poster taped to a streetlamp. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip in thought as he tugs the poster free, as if gaining a closer look might change what he sees.

MISSING DOG

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO 12 SILVER CANOE WAY, FIGURE EIGHT

REWARD AVAILABLE

The picture is an uncanny reflection of the dog currently sat by JJ’s feet. He’s panting in the sun, blissfully unaware of the curveball tossed at his temporary owner. As JJ looks from the black-and-white poster to the middle-aged dog, he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that Kiara was right. This dog wasn’t a stray. Instead, he was the pet of some bratty, spoilt Kook.

“Whose dog is that?” Kiara asks.

JJ follows her gaze to the labrador cosied up on the porch, soaking up the sun like it was his God-given right.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours?”

“Yeah, he just showed up after the hurricane."

It was true. The morning after the hurricane, JJ ventured out of his house to assess the damage only to hear a rustling and whimper from under the porch. Getting down on his hands and knees, expecting to find some beaten racoon, JJ came face to face with a petrified, middle-aged labrador. No collar. His cream coat was covered in dirt and dust and a small cut near his eye told JJ he’d found his way to his house during the hurricane, likely seeking shelter. After he coaxed him out with some fresh fish, the dog seemed to take a liking to the seventeen-year-old. JJ took it as the dog distribution system shining the light on him but Kiara didn’t seem so sure.

“And you’re just gonna claim him?”

“He’s a stray,” JJ tells her.

She looks to the dog again, then back to JJ. Her face essentially says, ‘seriously, dude?’

“He is!”

“A dog that well-groomed and that well fed is not a stray, and you know it.”

JJ’s stomach twists. He’d thought the same thing once he’d given the dog a wipe down. A full stomach, trimmed fur, trained to do more than just sit…Strays don’t come like that in Kildare County. But JJ liked the company the dog brought. He’d always wanted one, ever since he was a kid, but his dad would never allow it. Waste of money and food, he’d say. But so far, JJ had managed to keep the dog’s existence on the downlow. He wasn’t very loud or yappy. In fact, he was as calm as sea turtle. JJ liked the bond that had so quickly grown between them. So, swallowing the faint feeling of guilt of keeping someone’s dog, he tells Kiara:

“Well, until someone puts a poster up, I’m sticking to my gut. He’s a stray and he belongs with me.”

It’s like the universe was calling his bluff or something.

JJ crumples the poster in his fist, litters it on the street, and gently tugs on the leash.

“Come on, boy,” he mutters.

The dog gets to its feet and follows JJ down the street, back to the Chateau. He seems rather drained from the brief walk around the cut. Curls up by the front door in a patch of shade, yawning before nestling his head between his large paws for a nap. JJ watches him from the kitchen as he sips on a cold cider. His mind is in battle between right and wrong (as it usually is) as he contemplates the poster.

Kiara nearly falls over the dog as she walks into the Chateau. Then, she shoots a deadly glare to JJ.

“You didn’t go to the vet, did you?”

“Who actually microchips their pets, anyway?”

“Most people, JJ. It’s a clever way to make sure you get your dog back if, let’s say, it runs off in a hurricane without a collar,” Kie returns.

JJ rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his drink. “I’ll take him tomorrow.”

“Actually, there’s no need,” Kiara says. She walks across the room to him and pulls something from her back pocket. As she unfolds the rectangle of paper, JJ comes face to face with the very poster that had been occupying his mind for the past half hour. She holds it out to him.

“See? This is someone’s dog.”

“That could be any dog,” JJ lies.

Kiara quirks a brow. JJ breaks easily, sighing.

“Look, can we just consider the possibility that this dog would be happier with me?” JJ argues. He ditches his cider and makes his way over to the animal. “I mean, he likes me, Kie. And he listens to me. And I like having him around.”

Lowering to his knees, he pets the dog awake from his slumber. He makes an adorable grumbling-whine as he rouses from his sleep. Looking over to Kiara, JJ must resemble an eight-year-old begging their parents for candy at the grocery store.

“I’ll take good care of him,” he promises.

Kiara sighs. Her icy exterior softens, features overcome with sympathy. She joins him and the dog on the floor, scratching at the pet’s back.

“I know you will, JJ,” she says. “But this is someone’s pet. And they clearly want him back. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Since when do I ever do the right thing?” JJ mumbles. He looks down to meet the chocolate brown eyes of his new best friend.

“Since today, hopefully.”

JJ holds the dog’s gaze. There’s such tenderness in his eyes, as the dog stares up at him. Makes JJ feel as though he is the most important thing on this earth. Dogs don’t care about money or mind: you treat them right and give them a good stick, and they’ll be happy forever. Unconditional love like that is rare to find in humans. It seems to JJ like it’s almost impossible, really. But then he thinks of the dog looking at a little girl or boy like that, and how (as spoilt as they may be) the child feels nothing but love for the dog in return. It seems cruel to take that away. He knows deep down what the right thing is. The moral thing.

“Tomorrow,” JJ quietly says. Looking up, meeting Kiara’s eyes, he nods reluctantly. “I’ll take him to the house tomorrow.”

She smiles smally, nodding to herself. Getting to her feet, she leaves JJ alone with the dog to enjoy the last few hours of time together. He ends up falling asleep on the pull-out couch with the dog, face buried in the scruff of his neck, as he unconsciously counts down the hours left until he gives him back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ stretches out the walk to the house for as long as possible. He lets the dog sniff at every scent and even tries to coax a million pee breaks out of him. He lingers by the sea, stroking the dog’s fur, and shares a hot dog as they pass a gas station. Eventually, they arrive at Figure Eight. The hurricane left the cell towers down on The Cut, so he didn’t bother with his phone. That leaves him to follow street signs until he’s making his way up Silver Canoe Way.

The houses are insane. Marvels of architecture and money. Bright green hedges trimmed into the most obscure shapes; useless statutes standing pretty in front gardens, protected by walls and security cameras. Fountains on almost every property, and a pool probably found in every back garden. Lucky sons of bitches.

House 12 is gorgeous: cream stone bricks and oak-style wood accents. There isn’t a gate, which is curious considering all the others down the road have one. JJ feels as though he’s trespassing as he makes his way up the driveway. There's not a single weed sprouting between paving slabs. There’re two cars in the driveway, each probably cost more than his life insurance pay-out. He imagines birds that dare shit on them get taxed: it’s the only way to explain their cleanliness. God, living like this and he can half understand why Kooks are as obnoxious as they are. What appear to be marble steps lead to a huge front door. The dog seems to know where he is, tugging excitedly on the leash as he guides JJ up the stairs.

JJ stands for a long moment. He looks down at the dog, takes in its wagging tail, and sighs. As he lifts his fist to rap against the door, it swings open. JJ is just as stunned as you. He doesn’t have time to apologise for startling you, because your eyes drop from JJ to the barking dog. You sink to the floor, mouth falling open, and willingly let your dog tackle you in a hug. His leash slips from JJ’s hold. You scruff the dog’s neck, press kisses all over his face, and giggle tearfully as your dog greets you after almost a week apart.

“Oh my God! Ranger! Oh my God!” you happily cry over and over again.

JJ immediately feels evil for even contemplating keeping your dog, Ranger, to himself.

The moment Ranger seems to gain some composure, you remember JJ’s existence. Looking up, you quickly wipe away your tears from under your eyes and clamber back to your feet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so rude!” you laugh, sticking out a hand. He shakes it as you introduce yourself.

“JJ,” he replies.

There’s a moment of recognition that passes over your face but it’s gone as soon as it comes, like the flash of green at sunset on the horizon.

“Thank you so much,” you say. One of your hands reaches down to ruffle at Ranger’s neck. JJ takes in how happy he is, staring up at you, grinning and panting, tongue out with exertion. ��Where did you find him?”

“He kinda found me,” JJ replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Showed up under my house just after the hurricane. Guessing he got spooked or something.”

“That’s what we think happened,” you say. “I woke up to find the backdoor open. He must have jumped and bolted; he frightens easy, you see. I felt awful when I realised he was gone.”

As JJ listens to you speak, he’s partly distracted. It’s hard to follow along to what you say when you’re standing gorgeous like the first day of June.

“Well, like I said, it’s no trouble,” JJ repeats.

You smile brighter than a brand-new penny, teeth pearly white and perfect aligned. JJ doubts you ever needed braces. Probably born with a set of veneers. It’s with that bitter thought that he reminds himself what he’s dealing with here. A kook who lives in nothing short of a mansion, who can’t even keep her dog inside during a hurricane.

“The, uh, poster said something about a reward…” JJ awkwardly mentions.

Your face dawns with realisation and he momentarily feels guilty, but then you’re nodding fervently. “Of course! God, I can’t believe I forgot!”

“I mean, I would have brought him back anyway,” JJ bold face lies.

“No, don’t be silly, it’s the least I owe.” You pull your door open. “Come in, please,” you say, heading into your home.

JJ falters in the doorway. It feels as though even stepping into your home might put him short of a few hundred bucks, just from breathing the air. He follows the route you took into the house, closing the door behind him. The minute he’s out of the entryway and in the main corridor, his eyes widen like he’s witnessing a supernova.

“Holy super kook,” he mutters, gaping at the interior.

Marble everything. Expensive obnoxious artwork that must only be interpretable once you reach a certain tax bracket. Framed photos of yourself and your family on the wall at various vacation spots: France, Italy, Mexico, China. There are others, too, of dance recitals. A shelf of trophies and awards. Ornaments and figurines standing on podiums like he’s in a museum. JJ’s terrified to walk, as if one step might send everything falling off the walls.

He finds himself blindly following you into the kitchen. It’s crystal clean and white. Granite counter tops beautifully cluttered with every appliance you can imagine. You head to the fridge.

“You want a drink?”

“Uh, sure. Water’s fine, thanks,” JJ replies.

You nod and grab a glass that probably costs JJ’s entire monthly wage. Then you go to your fridge (it has a touchscreen for Christ’s sake) and dispense ice cold water. Holding it out to him, you smile, sweet like buttercream.

JJ sips and watches as you reach for a bag that lies on the kitchen counter, retrieving a wallet. Holding out two fifties, you wait for him to take them. His eyes stare at the unwrinkled notes. JJ’s momentary pause makes you frown.

“Sorry, that’s a bit tight of me, isn’t it?” you say. You dip into the bottomless wallet and retrieve another fifty. “Is that enough?”

“Uh, I couldn’t…” He clears his throat and finally snaps out of his stupor. Taking the money, he passes two fifties back, saying, “I can’t take all of this.”

You shake your head and push the money back towards him.

“I insist. You brought my dog back! I should be giving you more,” you say.

JJ holds back his laugh.

More? It’s a fucking dog! You’re about to give him $150 for a Goddamn seven-year-old labrador? God, Kooks really do just think different.

He looks up from the money and takes you in, properly this time. JJ recognises you. Not from keggers or house parties – he’s seen you at neither of those things – but from church. He used to be subjected to Sunday school in a desperate bid to ‘send him on the right life path’, and he could remember seeing you there. You’d attend the service, sat safe in your father’s shadow. Even though JJ stopped going, he’d still see people heading in the direction of the county church if he were in the area. You were a regular. Dressed in the prettiest dresses, hair perfect and proper, jewellery to the nines, always sandwiched between your mother and father. You didn’t indulge in the debauchery that most teenagers on the island did. JJ would know if he’d spotted you at one of the many hangs; you had the kind of beauty that demanded to be seen, like a rare bird on the marsh. No, girls like you didn’t partake in those things. You spent time with your parents and a small circle of Church friends, probably just as sheltered and saintly as yourself, and was in bed before sunset and awake before sunrise.

And yet, you never rubbed JJ the wrong way like all the other Kooks did. He didn’t know you from Adam – in fact, the first time he’d ever shared a word with you was today – but something about you…You seemed different. Genuine. Rich, no doubt, but not exactly snobbish.

An idea suddenly comes to JJ. It’s stupid, and rather out of character given his prejudices, but for some reason, it’s miles more appealing than $150. A part of him wonders where his sudden charity is coming from. Maybe it’s something about your personality and his underlying infatuation he’s had with you since Sunday school. Maybe it’s your dog and how doting he appears to be of you. Hell, maybe it’s because you’re pretty. JJ’s always been a sucker for pretty girls – Kook or not – and he’s always wanted the things that he can’t have.

All these thoughts race through his head at a hundred miles an hour, and there’s only half a minute that passes before JJ speaks.

“How ‘bout this?” he says. “I take a fifty, and you let me take you out.”

You blink once, then twice. “Take me out? Like…on a date?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. The fact that your whole face didn’t immediately shrivel up like a prune at the suggestion gives JJ hope that he might have a chance. “What’d you say?”

There’s a moment where your eyes dip down to Ranger. He’s sat at your feet, watching the two of you interact with his tongue hanging out, mouth in a seeming smile. The second your eyes lock with your dog's, you look back to JJ with new-found confidence.

“Depends,” you say, correcting your posture, chin held high. “What did you have in mind?”

JJ’s never had to pitch a date to a girl before in his life. Usually he asks and they’re there: hook, line and sinker. His brain thinks hard and fast. “I can pick you up. Go for a drive, grab a bite maybe. Get to know one another,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Is that all?”

Of course, you have standards. Hell, the guys that court you probably dine you at The Ritz and gift you a Rolex. JJ isn’t deterred though. Instead, he’s rather amused.

With a boyish grin, he says, “princess, I promise one date with me and I’ll change your life forever.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Bold statement to make, Maybank.”

JJ takes note of how you know his last name and thinks back to when he introduced himself; that strange flash of recognition on your face. You know who he is and yet, you’re entertaining the idea of letting him take you out. Curiouser and curiouser.

JJ doesn’t beg or barter. Instead, he just stares you down, waiting for your response as you visibly contemplate his offer. There’s a hint of a smile on your face, the type that might come when you’re trying to suss someone out. It’s barely there but JJ’s sure he can see it. He knows that look all too well.

“When would this be?”

JJ’s painfully aware of how desperate he may sound as he says, “Tomorrow night?”

“I have ballet practice tomorrow.”

“Thursday then.”

“Piano recital.”

“Jesus, woman,” he can’t help but mutter. It makes you smile.

“I’m free Friday,” you offer.

And, holy shit, no way you’re actually agreeing to this. JJ hopes the shock doesn't show on his face.

“Friday works. The, uh, cell towers are down on The Cut so how ‘bout I just pick you up? Seven thirty sound good?”

“Sure.”

You speak in a manner that tries to give the impression that this whole conversation is rather mundane to you. That you have Pogues asking you out every other hour, almost like a nine-to-five job.

“But pick me up on the street outside, not in the driveway.”

JJ doesn’t question it. He’s not going to argue to your terms when he’s somehow landed a date with the hottest, goody-two-shoes kook in Kildare.

“Alright. On the street, Friday at seven thirty. Wear something pretty, yeah?”

Your brows quirk. “Any other demands?”

“Yeah. Give me a fair chance?” JJ wonders, half-joking.

Your eyes flit from JJ’s face, down his body, right to his toes, and back again. Smiling, sweet like cotton candy, you reply, “I think I can do that.”

His body goes ice cold. JJ nods, cementing the dates and times in his memory like he’s remembering nuclear launch codes.

“Then, I guess I’ll see you soon, princess."

“I guess so,” you say, returning the leftover fifties to your wallet. JJ pockets his fifty, gives one last pet to Ranger in farewell, and shows himself to the front door. As it shuts behind him, JJ leans against it. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Then, he laughs. He laughs and laughs, mouth upturned in an astounded smile, and shakes his head.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles to himself.

John B is not going to believe this. None of the Pogues are.

Rubbing at his face in disbelief, JJ repeats, “no fucking way” one last time before walking down the driveway. He spares one last glance at the house. Friday. Seven-thirty.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ has never been one to care all that much about his appearance. Half of his clothes have a hole in them somewhere, whether it be on the collar or in a pocket, and his hair is constantly tousled with salt-water from the sea. He isn’t unclean though. He showers and shaves and washes his clothes (though perhaps not as much as he should). He doesn’t think he’s bad looking, either. Lived experience shows that to be true, as he’s never struggled to land a date or hook-up. But there’s something about you, something about this particular meeting, that has him turfing through his chest of drawers.

He’s pretty sure he’s settled on an outfit. It’s ironic that it looks almost thrown together when JJ’s spent fifteen minutes obsessing over it. He washed his hair with shampoo and conditioner (that he stole from Kiara) and even used some hair wax to try and style it. Again, it probably looks the same as usual, but he feels better for it.

All the faffing leaves him running late. It’s closer to 7:45 than 7:30 by the time JJ pulls up your road on his bike. He’s aware of how loud the engine is in this area, rumbling as he slows to a stop. You’re stood in the sidewalk, arms crossed anxiously over your chest, glancing up and down the street. As JJ approaches, your eyes fall on him and a nervous smile sparks to life. JJ bullshits himself by labelling his hammering heart as adrenaline from riding a dirt bike on Figure Eight. You push some of your hair behind your ear as you walk up to meet him halfway. You’re practically glowing under the sunset sky, skin shiny with body butter like you’ve been bathed in glitter. He shuts off the engine and sits back in the seat.

“You’re late."

JJ cringes playfully. “My bad?”

“Mhm.”

You step over to him and linger by his bike. He quirks a brow. “You hopping on?”

As your eyes survey the vehicle, JJ starts to grin, smug. “You ever been on a bike before?”

“Course,” you say, almost too quickly. “Just…Not one like this.”

JJ offers out a hand and you hesitate for a second before taking it. Grasping your hand in his, you climb onto the back of his bike. Your summer dress rides up as you do and you nervously tug it down. Then, your arms gently loop around his waist. Laughing, JJ shakes his head. He tightens your grip on him.

“Gotta hold on tight or you’ll fly off,” JJ remarks.

“Promise not to do anything stupid?” you say, voice thick with nerves.

JJ starts up the engine. “Princess, I can’t promise anything like that,” he grins. Looking over his shoulder, meeting your terrified eyes, he softens his smile. “But I promise you’re safe.”

Your own smile battles through the queasy nervousness. JJ revs the engine and turns his head back to the road, and then he sets off. Your arms immediately latch tighter like a vice. It makes him laugh, and you mutter a meek ‘shut up’ in reply. Having you close like this; he can smell your perfume. It’s expensive, encapsulating you like you’ve been doused in it. Several bangle style bracelets lining your wrists press into his skin through his t-shirt, only slightly uncomfortable, and when he turns a corner, they shift and jangle melodically together.

Zipping down the roads of Figure Eight, JJ drags out the journey the same way he did walking Ranger back to your house. Gradually, mansions turn to shacks and quaint homes, and well-kept children’s parks into overgrown yards surrounded with chain-link fence.

He pulls down a dirt track, heading nearer to the marshland, and eventually comes to a stop. You catch your breath as he turns off the engine.

“Feeling alright?” he checks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply.

You look a little windswept. Instinctively, JJ reaches out a hand to brush some hair from your face. Embarrassed, you help, calming down your hair and fixing your appearance. Then you use JJ’s shoulders as an anchor, climbing off his bike.

“So…You brought me out to middle of nowhere…” you say, looking around.

JJ kicks on the stand and pulls the keys form the ignition. “Scared?”

“Should I be?”

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on. I got something planned.”

He takes your hand, smiling to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his, and guides the two of you through the shrubs towards the water side. The P.M.S. Pogue sits moored in the marsh. A loan, if he helps John B clean out the chicken hut next week.

“Now, I know this probably ain’t like all the fancy yachts you and your folks have,” JJ starts, walking up to the boat side. “But I promise it runs like a dream.”

As he looks back to you, JJ’s eyes shamelessly sweep along your figure. The dress you’re wearing is pastel green adorned with dainty flowers of white and ivy. It ends just past the point of tortuous on your legs. You’re pretty as a vine and sweet like a grape, decorated with expensive jewellery. Pearl earrings and a Tiffany necklace. On your wrist, though, JJ finds a series of handmade friendship bracelets amongst your bangles. They’re made with shells and beads and tiny pendants of silver. Several rings sit pretty on your fingers.

Looking back to the boat, JJ pulls the ladder free with a grunt. It creaks from want of use: himself and the Pogues usually just climb inside or jump on from the jetty. “Ladies first,” he says, offering out a hand.

You look between his hand and the ladder, and then something deterministic overcomes your face as you place your hands on lip of the boat. With a huff, you use whatever upper body strength you have to climb up. JJ stands, taken aback, and his eyes falls to your bare legs. Your toes are pointed, calve muscles tense and strong, and he can almost picture you in pointe ballet slippers. Amused, JJ lets you clamber up into the boat. Sighing, you correct your dress and jewellery before looking down at him.

“Well? You coming?”

JJ gives a small laugh before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

He climbs with significantly less difficulty than yourself, proudly flexing his muscles as he does, shameless in his peacocking. When he gets to his feet, he finds you staring. “Like what you see?”

Your face flushes. You try and play it off though. “Just checking if you needed a hand.”

JJ grins, playing along, and you roll your eyes and walk to the wheel of the boat. He follows, pulling the keys from his short pockets, and turns on the engine which sputters to life. You hold onto the side of the steering hold as JJ guides the two of you into the marsh.

“You wanna steer?” he asks once you’re in wider waters.

You wordlessly step up and take the wheel. It’s easy, guiding the boat along. JJ hovers behind you, testing the waters by placing a hand on your waist. You don’t shrug him off. Soon enough, JJ’s placing a hand back on the wheel and guiding you to a certain spot.

“I found this place a while ago,” he says over your shoulder as he steers. He can feel your gaze on him. It’s terrifying, having you so close to him. God, he hopes it doesn’t show. “Best stargazing spot in the whole county.”

He slows the engine to a shuddering stop and steps away to toss the anchor down. It’s silent out in the water, asides from sea birds and marsh-side insects. Fish that break to the surface for a split-second disturb the water every now and then. Crickets and distant hooting owls. It’s dark now, too. Everything painted in a dusky blue. JJ grabs the old blanket that he stole from the twinkie and lies it down on the nose of the boat.

“Here,” he calls.

You make your way over, accepting his hand as you step up. The two of you settle to lay side by side. JJ tucks his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. You stare at the sky, eyes falling open at the endless expanse.

“Woah.”

“Pretty sick, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing quietly. “It’s awesome.”

JJ grins. Nailed it.

For a while, the two of you just stargaze. He can hear your breathing, steady and calm, and once more your perfume invades his senses. A bottle of the stuff probably cost more than his bike. That thought prompts him to break the silence. Sitting up, he looks down at you.

“Alright, I gotta ask,” he says.

You sit up on your elbows, curiosity piqued. It takes everything in JJ to keep his eyes trained on your face and not your chest.

“Why’d you agree to go out with me?”

You smile, somewhat amused. It’s like you’ve been waiting for him to ask. “Well, that’s an easy question.”

“Oh, is it now?”

“Mhm,” you grin, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Christ, you’re angelic. “Ranger.”

“Your dog?”

“Yep.”

“What? You kooks manage to translate what they bark about or something? He give you some words of wisdom?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Sitting up fully, your bracelets chime together. “He liked you.”

“Yeah?” JJ says, brows tugging together in confusion.

“Ranger doesn’t trust easy. He’s a rescue and he practically chose me. The shelter people said he hadn’t let anyone near him since arriving, but with me, he came running over, like he knew me or something. He likes men even less. He won’t let my daddy within five yards of him without barking and cowering. He wouldn’t hurt you, but he gets scared and jumpy. But he seemed to like you. Seemed to trust you.”

“So, that made you agree to go out with me?” JJ checks.

Shrugging, you simply reply, “dogs are the best judge of character, after all.”

Humming in thought, JJ looks out to the marsh as he considers what you’ve said. It’s a little hilarious that a runaway dog is the reason that he’s got you here, alone, on the P.M.S. Pogue.

“My turn,” you say, seemingly initiating a game of twenty-one questions. JJ looks back to you. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Pretty obvious. You’re fucking gorgeous,” JJ replies.

Whilst your smile turns to mush, you roll your eyes and act as if you’re unaffected by his words. “Seriously, though. I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Smoking hot girls? Nah, you’re pretty much my type to a T,” JJ goes on, charming smile in full view.

“What about Kiara?”

JJ gives a bemused smile. “What about Kie?”

“I know she hangs out with you guys. We’re pretty different people, me and her.”

It’s obvious that you’re far from low maintenance. You're proud of being a kook. You don’t shy away from it: happy to show off your money and beauty. JJ doesn’t get the sense that you’re haughty but it seems rather clear that you live your life to a certain standard.

JJ shrugs. “Guess that’s why I’m not dating her.”

“I know your reputation, you know. About all the girls you hook-up with and stuff.”

“Oh. You jealous or something?”

“No,” you say. Voice turning softer, you continue. “But I feel like I should to tell you that I’m not the kind of girl who has a lot of hook-ups. Or the kind who puts out on the first date.” When JJ doesn’t say anything, you feel the need to add, “just, before you get your hopes up.”

Pursing his lips, JJ nods slowly. He had a feeling that was going to be the case. You weren’t exactly known in the community for being particularly flirtatious. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known any guy to date you. From the way you spoke, careful with your words, and the way you acted, you were almost made of solid gold: pure through and through. So, having you take sex off the table for the foreseeable future didn’t exactly blind-side JJ. That to say, if you had offered it up, he would have jumped at the opportunity. God, he’s half sure he’d die if he ever saw you naked.

He could be a gentleman, though. He could. Something about you had JJ entranced outside of just the physical. So, if a hook-up wasn’t in the cards, maybe getting to know you might be all the better.

He’ll just have to learn to keep his eyes and his dick to himself.

Sighing, JJ lowers himself to lay down again. This time, he only tucks one arm behind his head. The other, he outstretches into your expanse of the blanket.

“Alright, princess. I think I can live with that,” he says.

Seemingly content with his reply, you lay back down, resting your head in the nook of his arm.

“It’s your turn,” you quietly say after a moment’s quiet.

“To do what?”

“Ask a question.”

JJ filters through the many in his mind, tucking the inappropriate ones away for a later date, and finally settles. “Alright. Was Ranger the only reason you agreed to go on a date with me?”

You let out a small tuneful hum of contemplation. “No. I wanted to see what you were like.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’ve seen you around the island and heard the stories. I suppose I wanted to know for myself,” you say. “Plus, I always do what I’m supposed to do. I guess I wanted to do the opposite, for a change.”

“Rebelling against your dear old daddy with the derelict from the Cut?” JJ jokingly asks.

“Hmm. Something like that,” you say, playing along. You turn your head to the side and meet JJ's eyes. “You’re just a pawn in my game, Maybank.”

JJ’s too sucker-punched from that to come up with something witty in reply. There’s a foreign thump in his chest and a selcouth feeling in the back of his throat as you look at him. JJ swallows it away, returning his attention to the star-lit sky.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ revels in the miracle that he landed a second date with you as he fixes his hair in John B’s bathroom mirror. His best friend sits on the closed toilet lid, watching him.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing her again,” John B says for the millionth time.

JJ grins at his reflection. “I know.”

“I mean, what do you guys even talk about?” JB continues, face contorted in confusion.

JJ shrugs. “I don’t know. We just spent the other night talking about all sorts, really.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t being paid to go out with you?”

“Maybe the first time, but not this time, no,” JJ replies. He stops messing with his hair. Licks over his teeth, checking for trapped food, and dusts of his t-shirt. Looking to his friend, JJ asks, “how do I look?”

John B barely takes his appearance in before saying, “like she’s out of your league.”

“Come on, man,” JJ groans, shoving his best friend’s shoulder. He leaves the bathroom, John B hot on his tail. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. That I’m macking on a kook and you ain’t,” JJ tells him. Opening the fridge, he tosses a beer to John B before taking one for himself. “I know you’ve had a thing for Sarah Cameron since we were kids.”

“No,” John B quickly says, shaking his head. “No, no, I do not have ‘a thing’ for Sarah Cameron.”

“JB, you’re a terrible liar,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of his drink. Liquid confidence. Eyes glancing up to the clock hung on the chateau’s kitchen wall, he reckons he has about five minutes before he should leave for your house.

“So, seriously: what is this? Why this new flavour of the month?” John B grills.

JJ shrugs. “I dunno man. She’s just…She’s cute. And hot. And rich, and easy to talk to, and kinda funny, and, oh did I mention, rich as fuck. I don’t see any downsides, really.”

“Mhm, well, I do,” John B gladly counters. “She’s a kook.”

“Yeah, but she’s not like a kook kook. Kinda like how Kiara’s a kook,” JJ argues.

John B looks bewildered. “She is nothing like Kiara.”

“Alright, not in personality or looks or actual money, but in general kook-ness.”

“All I’m saying is that if you think this thing has a long shelf-life, you’re way more crazy than I thought you were,” John B says.

JJ doesn’t reply. Downing the rest of his can, he tosses it at the trash can (dismally misses) and heads for the front door. As he goes, he taps John B on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

“Nice to know you’re rooting for me, man,” he jovially says in farewell.

Then, he’s heading down the porch steps, climbing onto his bike, and setting sights for your house for the fourth time in his life.

Your house stands like a castle in the streets. JJ practically sees the driveway as a crocodile infested moat. He waits on the street at the foot of the driveway for you, arriving in time to see you make your way down the drive. You’re dressed in Levi shorts and a Tommy Hilfiger shirt, designer sandals on your decorated feet with anklets and toe rings. JJ sits back on his seat, engine running, and finds himself grinning as you smile at him. When did that start to happen?

“Not late this time, huh?” you playfully say.

“Learnt my lesson.”

You don’t hesitate as you climb on the back of his bike. You wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers splaying out across his chest over his t-shirt. JJ revs the engine.

“Ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

Grinning, JJ sets off down the street.

Once again, you’d left the plans in JJ’s hands. It was a little surreal to him, how trusting you were of him. Might be a place of concern, even. But, hey, JJ will take the win.

It’s still light when you get to the cliffside. From here, the view is incredible. An orange-pink sky that looks like it might taste of tangerine and peach hangs above a rolling sea. The view stretches on for miles, with the mainland off along the horizon.

JJ admires you as you stand in breeze, looking out at the view. You turn to face him.

“Why does every place I let you take me get more and more concerning every time?”

“We’re going cliff jumping,” is JJ’s reply.

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your head. “That’s called suicide, JJ.”

“Nah, not here,” he says, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and tries to coax you nearer to the edge so you can see the drop. “Water’s plenty deep and cliff’s plenty high. It’s fun.”

You catch on that he’s not joking. Laughing nervously, you shake your head and take several large steps back to safety. “No, no, no.”

“Come on! It’s fun!” JJ swears.

Your smile begins to fade and your head shakes faster. “No way. I don’t do…That. And I’ll ruin my hair. And what about my jewellery?”

“You can take off your jewellery,” JJ argues, walking towards you, “and your hair’ll look good either way.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort, eyeing him up as your arms cross over your chest. “You’re a guy.”

“First of all: rude.”

JJ tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Your eyes instinctively glance down at his chest. JJ doesn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“Second of all: live a little, princess.”

You scoff. “I live plenty, thank you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Have you ever been to Paris? Seen the Eiffel tower? Been in the catacombs? Or gone to Italy and tasted wine fresh from a vineyard?”

JJ raises a brow, sarcastic as he says, “yeah, every Tuesday. Now come on.”

He grabs for your wrist, tugging you towards him. You don’t push him away as he lifts his fingers to the clasp of your necklace, only momentarily struggling to get it loose. He gently places it on top of his t-shirt, and soon your many rings follow. You lean down and take off your toe rings and anklets, and then your earrings. The handmade bracelets stay, though. Standing upright, you take a shaky breath.

“Look, you don’t have to,” JJ quietly says. He can see the fear clear as day on your face. But you shake your head, newly determined by his offer of an out. Clearly you don’t like having your bluff called.

JJ’s eyes nearly fall out of his head as you pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even have time to recover before your wriggling out of your shorts, stepping out of them and carelessly tossing them onto the pile of clothes and accessories like you got them from a bargain bin at a thrift store. Stepping out of your sandals, standing proud in matching Calvin Klein underwear, you grab his hand and interlock your fingers, guiding the two of you to the cliffside. As you pull him into motion, JJ comes out of his filthy thoughts, mouth dry.

You come to a sudden stop a safe three feet away from the edge. JJ’s done this too many times to count but the adrenaline that floods the system before the first jump shocks him every time like a cold plunge. You gnaw on your lower lip in trepidation. JJ squeezes your fingers, mutters your name, and captures your attention.

“You trust me?”

Your beautiful eyes dance across his face. JJ almost sees you go calm, like a baby soothed by its favourite nursery rhyme. It seems that his question, as simple as it is, made something click in your mind.

“Yeah,” you breathe, as if realising it in the moment. “I do.”

With that, JJ gives one last squeeze to your hand and a fleeting smile, and then he starts running towards the cliffside. You run too, only a step behind, and the two of you hurl yourselves off the edge at the same time. Your scream echoes in the wind as air rushes past JJ’s ears. He whoops on his way down. The two of you pummel down towards the water, your hand never leaving his until you reach the surface. His eyes press shut and he prepares for impact as he crashes into the depths. The water is cold but not icy – it cools his skin comfortably. Everything goes quiet in the water, mellowed out and muted. JJ pushes to the surface and takes a breath of air, shoving wet hair off his face. As he looks around, treading water in the currents, he feels the adrenaline rise once more when he can’t find you.

JJ starts calling out your name, looking left and right and left again. Just as he’s about to dive under, you break. He gasps out in relief.

The minute your eyes open, they land on him. Then, the biggest smile he’s ever seen comes over your face. It etches itself on his brain with permanent marker. JJ could be senile and decrepit and still remember that look on your face.

“That was amazing!” you scream, throwing your hands up, spraying water everywhere. “Oh my God! We have to do that again!”

JJ laughs, soaking in your joy.

It’s weird seeing you, wet and without all your dressings. It’s like seeing a priceless painting outside of its frame: it makes it somehow even more beautiful. The setting sun warms your wet skin as you throw your head back, eyes shut, grinning like a mad man. JJ wants to seal this moment in resin and place it on his mantle as a keepsake.

You make JJ climb up that cliff and jump into the ocean about five times over, until the sun has almost fully set and you can’t risk the dark. As it slowly inches down and down towards the horizon, you and JJ sit side by side on the grass. Your hand is so close to his, fingers reaching out like growing ivy, teasing at making contact. The moment the jumping was done, you’d returned all your jewellery to your body. It sparkles with the damp. As his eyes drift down from your profile to your figure, he picks up on those handmade bracelets again.

“What’s with the friendship bracelets?” JJ asks.

You look down at them then up at JJ. “I make them.”

“Why?”

Laughing, you shrug. “I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything?”

“Do you sell them?”

“No,” you say, messing with one. “I just enjoy doing it. I make them for my friends.”

“That’s sweet,” JJ hums, looking back out to the view.

“What about your shark tooth necklace? Someone make that for you?” you ask.

JJ glances down at it. “My ma. She used to collect shark teeth that washed up on the beach.”

“Well, she’s pretty talented,” you smile. “Maybe she can make one for me, one day.”

JJ swallows thickly, jaw ticking tight. “She, uh, ain't around anymore.”

“Oh…I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

The awkward quiet that comes passes like a summer breeze. Sighing contentedly, the two of you watch as the world gets darker and darker, and the sun gets lower and lower.

“So, how are you finding it?”

“Finding what?” you ask.

JJ gestures to himself, to everything around him. “This. Pogue-life. Rebelling against your dad. Not doing as you’re told.”

You laugh, shaking your head. JJ watches as you pull your knees up to your chest, sitting dainty as a robin balanced on a branch. Tucking some hair behind your ears, you look out to the horizon as if caught in a daydream. A solemn look threatens to cross your face as you say, “it’s making me realise just how much I’ve been missing out on.”

And that…JJ wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting one of your usual playful jabs, soaked in sarcasm. Not that. It makes you more human and less Kook. More real. More attainable, even, for JJ. It’s like with every minute he spends in your orbit, he gets closer and closer to you. But everyone knows the story of Icarus, and what happens when you fly too close to the sun.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the fourth date, JJ’s practically foaming at the mouth, feral from restraint.

He still hadn’t kissed you. Hadn’t had the opportunity. You’d kept teasing him with it, temporarily placing it on the table before taking it away. He knew he had to go about this carefully. One wrong move and he could screw up all his hard work and send you off running.

What surprised JJ more than most was the fact that feeling your body under him was one of the lowest ranking motivators to spend time with you. Don’t get it twisted – it was still a pretty bloody strong motivator – but JJ wanted to know you and be known by you. You were interesting and captivating, and caring and kind. You were funny and had this sweet sense of humour that glimmered through from time to time, like a kaleidoscope hanging from a window-frame. With every minute in your company, his prejudice of Kooks was dismantled piece by piece. One run in with Rafe or Topper and it would probably be rekindled ten-fold, but for now, JJ learnt to see past it. You were a little out of touch but you didn’t act like you were better than him. Then again, he hadn’t taken you to his house or the Chateau yet. He kept the dates on common ground, where he never felt out of his depths or wallowing within them.

You hit like a crisp, ice-cold beer on the hottest day of summer. More intoxicating than any blunt he’s ever smoked, or any line he’s ever snorted. Light like a feather in how you move, soft like rain and driven like fresh laid snow. You had hijacked nearly all of JJ’s thoughts, in one way or another, and it fucking terrified him.

“So, I went for white and pastel blue. I think they’re cute. What do you think?”

You hold your fingers out for JJ to inspect your nails. JJ couldn’t care less about nails – half the time, his are dirtied with mud and oil – but you care an awful lot, so he can pretend. To be honest, he had only been half-listening to your story. His eyes had been fixated on your lips, daydreaming about how they’d feed against his own, how soft they might be as he nips at them with his teeth, how wet they might be if he were to slip his dick between them…

“JJ?”

He blinks out of his gutter-brain and takes in your nails.

“They’re pretty. I like the, uh, sheen on them,” he says.

You practically become alight with the comment. It feels like another brownie point that he can tally. Bringing them to your gaze, you nod fervently. “Right? I’ve never gotten metallic powder on them but I think I like it.”

With that, you sigh and lay back on your towel. The two of you are at the beach and have been since two in the afternoon. It’s now nearly seven in the evening. JJ thinks you’re at your prettiest in the golden hour. It’s like God himself is shining a spotlight on you, highlighting every perfection of your features. The way your designer jewellery twinkles in the rays, the sun-kissed sheen of your cheeks, the ethereal-like glow of your eyes…It’s taking everything not to look at your body, proudly displayed in a bikini. It’s blue. It seems you like blue an awful lot.

JJ distracts himself from your figure and his tightening swim shorts by petting Ranger. He’d tagged along for the day and is currently napping in the sun. You’d brought plenty of water and dog snacks to keep him going. JJ had supplied the seltzers and bag of chips for the two of you. He’d noted how you’d been making one can last for about two hours. He wondered if you’d been tipsy before, or drunk even.

When he looks back to you, eyes sweeping up your sand-scattered stomach, he finds you threading the seashells you’d been collecting throughout the day on string. You’d brought a little kit with you in your bag and had spent the last three hours making jewellery on and off whilst talking to JJ. You lay in a sea of designer accessories – Ray Ban sunglasses, Dior lip-gloss, Clinique sunscreen – as you craft.

“That’s coming together nice,” he comments.

You glance up to meet his eyes, smiling. “It’s for you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. Need to check if it fits, actually,” you mumble, shifting onto your knees.

JJ willingly holds out a wrist for you as you coil it around. It looks hilariously dainty on his built form. Seashells and blue and white and silver beads. Then he notices the small letters you’d interwoven into the design. JJ. His heart makes that awful, jarring tug again. JJ can’t decide he likes this effect you have on him.

“Perfect,” you say.

You tie it off and fasten it around his wrist. He shakes his arm out a little to check its fit. You’re right: it’s perfect.

The moment your eyes glance up from his arm, meeting his, JJ forgets all his manners. He takes your face in one hand and presses his lips to yours. You let out a gasp as he does, hands coming up to press at his shoulders, pushing him off.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, fingers flying up to your lips.

His heart is loud in his ears, hammering like he’s thirteen and having his first kiss all over again. In the deafening beat of it, he dumbly replies, “kissing you?”

“Well, you can’t just kiss me,” you say, almost offended. “You have to ask first.”

“Alright…Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes are like raging storms as you stare at him. Anyone would have thought from your expression that he just asked to take you roughly in the streets. Trying to calm yourself with a drawn-out breath, you cock your head.

“Why should you?”

JJ frowns. “What?”

“Why should I let you kiss me?”

Now usually, JJ would be pissed. Annoyed and impatient, and would get up and leave and never look back. But for you, he can’t find it in him. No, it’s all offset by that same damn curiosity that got him here in the first place. You’re like an enigma. A blackhole. He wants desperately to know more, to understand, but is terrified of being sucked in completely. Terrified of what it might all mean.

So, JJ deliberates your question. “Cause you like me?”

“I do?” you ask, quirking your brows.

You must. You wouldn’t have stuck around for this long if you didn’t. Wouldn’t have handmade a bracelet. So, he nods, feeling his confidence grow like the swell of a wave.

“Yeah, you do. I think you like what I bring out of you.”

“Making a lot of assumptions here, Maybank,” you practically warn. But the anger is gone. Gives him hope that he’s on the right track. JJ tries and fails to bite back his smile.

“Maybe,” he says. “But it’s only cause I feel the same way.”

When you don’t speak, he takes it as a cue to continue. As he goes on, his heart shudders with the anxiety that vulnerability brings.

“I like the way I am around you. I like how you make me feel. I like talking to you, and I like hearing you talk. You just have this way of speaking that’s…It just makes everything feel like it’s good. Everything’ll be good.”

Something in what he’s said seems to take you aback. You blink a few times, lips parting as you sit, looking at him all the while. He hopes that if your thoughts are still set on the idea that he’s in this for nothing more than a lay, he’s just proved that wrong. He supposes with his reputation on the island amongst the youngsters, he can’t be all that surprised if that was what you had thought. But surely, after spending so many hours in your company, doing nothing asides from talking and innocently touching, you had seen past that. Didn’t you say that you wanted to get to know him, to see him for yourself?

“Do you mean that?” you quietly ask. It’s almost sad, the tone of your voice and the look on your face, like nobody’s ever said something like that to you before. JJ swallows the sick feeling that it brings.

He nods. “Yeah. I do.”

Slowly, a smile blossoms on your face like the first budding flower of spring. With a small, slight nod, you tell him, barely louder than a whisper, “you can kiss me now.”

JJ does so gladly. But he’s careful with it this time, makes it count. He sweeps one hand from your shoulder, up against your collarbones, until it cups your jaw gently. Tilting your head just-so, he leans forward and pauses just a breadth before your lips. And then, he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet and different to the usual blind-haze rush that JJ finds himself in when making out. The pacing to it makes it almost sensual. The feeling the kiss brings is alien to JJ; he can’t quite place a name to it.

One of your hands finds home on his jaw, exploring his skin, fingers looping into the hair on the back of his neck. When he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, you sigh gently against his lips.

As the two of you kiss on the beach, that new-found sensation in JJ’s chest intensifies, and then it dawns upon him - this new feeling that your kiss brings. Different from lust and libido.

His eyes fly open. Stomach plummets through the sand.

JJ Maybank is falling in love with you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the summer stretched on, JJ realised he’d spent most of June in your company, growing closer and closer. It felt natural now to have your hand intertwined with his. JJ can hardly remember a time when wasn’t talking to you, or talking about you, or thinking of you, or organising his days around meeting you. He knew what it meant, what all of it meant, and this impending feeling of something grew with every word passed and every kiss shared. It almost felt like he was watching a sand-timer. Seeing each grain slip by, counting down until the inevitable end, just like most things in his life did.

He'd introduced you to the Pogues upon everyone’s insistence, including your own. John B was still in disbelief that JJ had managed to keep you around for as long as he had. Pope, on the other hand, was practically suspicious of it. It was as if he needed the cold, hard evidence for proof that JJ wasn’t spinning yarns. Kiara had of course jumped at the opportunity to gloat about the ‘good karma’ she’d bestowed upon JJ, by encouraging him to return Ranger to you. When she’d met you, she’d be apprehensive. Distrusting of your Kook status, having known you more than the others from attending Kook Academy with you. But JJ was sure she’d warm up, bit by bit. It helped that you wanted to try new things. You wanted to try the whole Pogue lifestyle. You let JJ take you surfing and begged to try his bike out. You let John B teach you to fish and wrestled Pope on nights spent around the campfire. You’d share seltzers with Kiara and sang along whenever she played the uke. And, oh, of course you could sing. You’d had lessons, you see, as you had with practically every other extra circular on earth. Piano, violin, ballet, tap…Shit, it was like you were collecting Pokémon or something.

In fact, it scared JJ how easy it was to pick up on the little details about you. It was like collecting stones on the beach: before you know it, your pockets are weighing you down, filled with tiny little pebbles. You were a fruity girl: cocktails and sangria and wine and seltzers – never beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker. Didn’t partake in shots apart from Cherry Bombs. You preferred sweet over salty; always took creamer and syrup in your coffee, in that order; rom coms from the nineties and noughties were your kryptonite, and you loathed fast and furious; skirts before shorts; Tiffany before Pandora; lip gloss over lip stick. God, the tingly sensation from plumping lip gloss was all too familiar to JJ now, from having it smear off your mouth to his.

After the kiss on the beach, mouths and hands had only continued to wander. It’s like JJ’s admission that this was more than just trying to score you for sex was the passcode to open you up. You weren’t prudish. In fact, when JJ met you, he was half certain that maybe you were a virgin. But no…now he found that very hard to believe.

Saying all that, it still felt bizarre to be seen out in public with you. It wasn’t a secret, had never been really, but JJ remained surprised at how willing you were to take his hand in public. To be seen with him by everyone in the County. It was like you wanted to show him off, parade him around like he was something special, like one of your many Prada purses. It almost made JJ want to question if you had ulterior motives.

“You wanna just split a portion of fries?” JJ asks, looking at The Wreck’s menu. You were there for lunch.

You hum in thought. “Maybe. I want mac and cheese though.”

“We can get that, too. I mean, you’re paying, right?”

You prod him under the table with your foot. He gives a playful laugh, grinning childishly. He’d started calling you his sugar mommy since you had to pay for gas when his card got declined. It softened the sting of embarrassment that came with being broke, especially when compared to you. I mean, even now, he sits in a thrifted t-shirt, the decal on the chest nearly faded with how much it had been worn and washed, whilst you’re in your new threads. Dior threads, for that matter.

“Hiya. You guys ready to order?” the waitress asks.

JJ glances up from the menu and shit. Shit shit shit. The minute his eyes meet hers, recognition dawns upon her. It’s weird seeing this girl – Lily, he thinks her name is – from this angle. Last time they’d seen each other, she’d been laying underneath him…

You’re thankfully blissfully unaware, eyes trained on the menu.

“JJ. Long time no see.”

With that, your head darts up. Great.

“Hey…Lily. How are you?”

At least luck is partly on his side: he got her name right. She places a hand on his waist. “Fine, thanks. Been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy,” JJ says.

“I bet. Remember a time when you were busy with other things…”

Her tone speaks volumes, as do her eyes as she surveys his body, smiling flirtatiously.

Suddenly, your hand is extending across the table, towards Lily. JJ looks to you to find a sickly, sweet smile on your face.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” you say, voice honied. She shakes your hand as you introduce yourself. “You know JJ?”

“We have a…history, of sorts,” Lily replies.

“Oh. Well, any friend of JJ’s is a friend of mine.”

Looking to JJ, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s terrifying and sexy as hell. Raising a hand, your fingers leisurely splay across the expanse of JJ’s shoulder, manicured nails digging-in only so. Not enough to cause damage but enough to make a point. Enough to mark your territory.

“Babe? Can you order for me?”

“Uh, course,” JJ says, clearing his throat.

Looking down at the menu, eyes not even fixating on any of the words, JJ reals of an order. Lily scribbles it down, takes the menus, and leaves without another word. The minute she’s out of sight, you drop the act, hand unlatching from his body. JJ raises his brows, holding back his laugh as he turns to you.

"What a bitch," you mutter. You wash away your words with a sip of your water.

“Didn’t take you as the jealous type.”

“Yeah, well, some girls need to learn when to shut their traps,” you lowly return. Sighing, you close your eyes and shake your head. “Sorry. That wasn’t very girls-girl of me.”

“Mm. If only your daddy could hear you now,” JJ adds, sighing disapprovingly.

You shoot him an unimpressed glare. JJ brings his glass to his lips, having a sip of his water.

“You sleep with her?”

JJ chokes and coughs. “Jesus. Straight shooter."

“Better not be talking about yourself there, Maybank.”

JJ laughs, putting his cup down. Looking to you, he shrugs. “Yeah. Like…three months ago, alright? It was before we met.”

“Mhm. You sleep with anyone since we met?” you wonder.

JJ can’t place your tone but something tells him that this question will make or break him. Thankfully, there isn’t even a need to lie. “No.”

“You swear?”

“Scout’s honour,” he says, lifting three fingers whilst simultaneously marking his heart with a cross. “Shit, I don’t want you to claw my eyes out. Or any other girls, for that matter.”

You shove his shoulder gently, smile creeping back to your lips. “Shut up. Like I’d ever. The Bible frowns upon it.”

“What about ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“Ooh. Somebody went to Sunday School,” you tease.

“Yeah, just so I could gawk at you,” he smoothly returns, winking for good measure. With that, JJ knows he’s back in your good books.

When Lily brings the food over, she doesn’t try to strike up any conversation. Dare JJ say, she looks terrified to be within a foot of the table. JJ knew you had an edge but this is different. This possessiveness, this proprietorial energy that came over you…Fuck, he knows what’s the newest addition to his wank-bank.

The two of you eat, talking about what you should do tomorrow (because, of course, he’ll spend tomorrow with you) and then JJ desperately tries to give constructive feedback to your latest Pinterest board of hairstyle inspiration. He gets up to pay. It’ll probably cost half his wage but it’s worth it. I mean, this meal is pretty dismal compared to the feasts you’re used to, but you never complain. Saying that, it doesn’t go unnoticed that when it’s on your dime, you’re far more willing to get a lemonade and a dessert. When it’s JJ paying, you say you’re happy with tap water and splitting a side. It’s mildly mortifying.

Lily is stood at the counter. “Ready to pay?”

“Tell me the damage,” is JJ’s reply.

“Twenty dollars thirty,” she says, punching buttons on the register.

JJ’s stomach twists. Fuck, he hopes his card doesn’t decline. She holds out the machine for him and he swipes his card.

“How long has that been going on then?” Lily asks.

JJ follows her gaze to you. You’re sat at the table, reapplying Dior lip gloss with an Armani compact mirror. He’s half convinced that if anything bought from Target touched your skin you might implode.

“Bout a month,” he says.

“Hm. Never took her as one to venture out of Figure Eight.”

“Never took you as one to judge random people,” JJ counters, anger ticking with her unneeded commentary.

“I’m just saying. She’s a Kook, JJ.”

“Did it go through?” he asks, cutting the conversation short.

Lily sighs, looking down at the card machine. Nodding, she goes to get his receipt. But before she hands it over, she feels the need to add, “just…maybe ask yourself what she’s getting out of this? Girls like that…They’re sneaky. Just, watch your back.”

JJ takes the receipt hastily and walks off before he can’t bite his tongue any longer. As much as it pisses him off to hear someone who doesn’t even know you talk like that, there was a sincerity to Lily’s voice that speaks to JJ’s insecurities. Massages them. It certainly doesn’t help that the minute JJ arrives back at the table, you ask, “did you have enough?”

JJ hates how the rest of the day, that one interaction – that one moment – at the Wreck keeps him disconnected from you. Anytime you ask what’s wrong, it’s the same excuse: ‘I’m just tired, s’all.’ But whenever there’s a second for thought, Lily’s voice echoes around his head.

Ask yourself what she’s getting out of this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“How in the hell do you not get lost in this place?” JJ asks you as you wander through your house.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I grew up here.”

It’s laughable, the difference of JJ’s house to yours. He’s never taken you to his home; kept your dates and hangouts to the Chateau or the Twinkie, or anywhere but his house. He’s half-certain that you might just dip if you saw the state that he lives in. Plus, he can’t risk his dad showing up and meeting you. He’d hate you – the same way he hated most people – and again, you’d be gone in a second. In fact, as more time passes, JJ realises more and more that he’s got an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through it without a second glance.

“You want some tea?” you ask. JJ shrugs his yes. He’s never tried it before but no time like the present, right?

You guide the two of you to the kitchen. As you pass by room after room, JJ nervously glances around. “So, uh…Your dad or mom home, or?”

“Relax, Maybank,” you grin. “They’re on a cruise. They don’t get back until Tuesday.”

“Oh, cool, cool. I mean, I ain't have been bothered if they were home.”

You bark out a laugh. Opening a kitchen cupboard, you talk as you retrieve two mugs. “Oh really? So you haven’t been avoiding my house like the plague because of my parents?”

JJ rolls his eyes. Busted. You go to heat up the water, grabbing two fruit tea bags and depositing them in each mug. JJ looks around the kitchen, searching for a certain dog. As if you can hear his thoughts, you say, “Ranger’s in the sunroom. If you call him, he’ll probably come.”

So, JJ does just that. Sure enough, Ranger trudges through the house and into the kitchen, tail wagging. He looks as if he’s just woken up from a nap. JJ grins, watching as his energy returns the moment he sets eyes on yourself and JJ, and the blonde-haired boy falls to his knees, arms outstretched. God, he missed this old fart of a dog.

“Why don’t you bring him along to the Chateau more?”

“Where would he ride? We always take your bike,” you laugh.

“Probably for the best, anyway. John B would definitely try and steal him,” JJ mumbles.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t?”

Insecurity picks at JJ like a scab. “What does that mean?”

You quirk a brow, unaware of the almost offence caused. “JJ, you would pick that dog over me in a heartbeat, if it came down to it.”

Of course. Of course you were talking about the dog, and not making some dig about his family reputation, or his sticky fingers. Shit, it’s like ever since that day at the Wreck, his insecurities had tripled in size and volume. Every time you looked at him, JJ wasn’t sure if you were passing judgement and he hated himself for it: for becoming so suspicious of you, when you’d done nothing to warrant it. But he couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex.

Once the tea is made and Ranger’s retired back in another sunny patch to sleep, the two of you head upstairs to your bedroom. JJ began to recount the story of the Grady White discovery and the Motel Room after the last hurricane’s end. He’s half certain that you don’t fully believe him.

“So, what did you find in the motel room?” you ask, pushing open your bedroom door.

“It was fucking crazy! Like a shit ton of money and this weird map. Oh, yeah, and…” JJ ditches his backpack by the foot of your bed and unzips it. Proud as a Superbowl jock, he presents the gun he stole. “This.”

Your mouth drops open. You place the two mugs of tea on your desk (on coasters, because of course) and reach out for it. JJ frowns and holds it out of your reach.

“Let me hold it.”

This reaction, out of all the reactions, was the one he expected the least. “No way.”

“Come on!”

“Nu-uh. You’ll shoot my dick off."

Rolling your eyes, you quip, “wouldn’t that be a gift for mankind? Come on!”

Sighing, he relents. Double checks the safety is on before passing the gun to you. You hold it like it’s a priceless artefact or a Louboutin heel (both as equal in value to yourself).

“It’s heavier than I thought,” you mumble, inspecting it.

Is it bad that JJ thinks you look unbelievably hot holding a gun right now? Probably. He can address that later in life when he eventually winds up in therapy.

“Yeah, these things are the shit,” JJ boasts, taking it back. He pretends to aim with it, gun pointed directly at one of your bears. At your scolding he puts it away again. “Anyway, now we got this dumb ass compass. JB thinks it’s got a clue in it, but I’m not so sure.”

JJ accepts the tea that you offer him as the two of you take perch on your bed, you at the foot and him at the head. You sit cross legged, nodding along to his tale, interested. JJ’s not entirely sure why he’s telling you this, especially when he was so adamant that the Pogues keep it on the down low, but something in him tells him that it’s okay for you to know. Useful, even, though he has no idea how. When he wraps up the story, he takes in your room. It’s just as he pictured it to be. Immaculately clean, psychopath level organised, decorated with brand after brand, China-white and pastel blue detailing every turn of the head. Looking back to you, he sniggers.

“You look like a witch right now.”

You take in the way you’re sitting and laugh, making a point to cradle your mug of tea between two hands. God, you’re adorable. The years of ballet have paid off: your back is straight as an arrow. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as you sip your tea. Outside, you can hear the sounds of nature pass by. There’s something understated and special about spending time with someone without feeling the need to fill the gaps. Just…existing. As JJ finishes his tea, you nod to his empty mug.

“Want me to read your tea leaves?” you ask.

JJ eyes you up, entertained. “No way you know how to do that.”

“Course I do. Here.”

You put your mug down on the windowsill and hold out a hand out for his. He passes you the empty mug and leans back against the cushioned headboard. Hell, if he had a bed like this, he’d never leave. You hum in deep contemplative thought as you look into the mug. Eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing, you study the scraps of tea leaves intently. JJ tries to stifle his laughs. It’s clearly a ploy. He can see right through the act.

“Ah, well…These are very good leaves,” you suddenly announce.

JJ plays along. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Yeah, yeah, I see a great fortune in your future,” you tell him. A glance up to his face, stupid grin on your lips, and then back to the mug. “Mhm. Yep, I see a…A boat.”

“Oh yeah? A Grady White by any chance?” JJ jests.

“Oh, no. This thing…It’s like the titanic. Big ship.”

“You have a way with words, princess.”

“And! A rainforest! And stones!”

“Alright, this tea’s gone to your head,” JJ laughs, reaching over for his mug.

You giggle as he takes it back, ditching it half-arsed on the bedside table so he can drag you to him by your forearms. Half tumbling forward, your hands ungainly catch yourself on his sturdy frame. You’re still laughing as he kisses you. JJ smiles against your mouth.

“I’m telling you,” you manage out through kisses and giggles. “You’re gonna be very fortunate in your future.”

“Mm, I’m fortunate now,” JJ replies, chasing your lips.

He uses a hand to hoist you further into his lap. You finally find purchase, a hand sliding along his neck, tantalisingly slow and smooth. As JJ’s lips creep along your jaw and inch down your neck, you lean your head, giving him more and more canvas to work with.

“I’m very lucky, you know,” you say, sounding short of breath.

JJ just hums. He continues his tapestry of love bites and kisses as you ramble on. He loves how soft it is with you; how there’s time for pause, for thought, for laughter. It’s the polar opposite to what he knows. Frenzied hands and sex in a timeframe. The patience of sex with you isn’t without heat, though. It isn’t like a married couple who can hardly remember what they liked about one another, chasing a high before drifting off to sleep. No, it’s like how people take time to pray. Like how musicians fawn over their music for hours, bit by bit, until perfection. So, JJ revels in your half-meaningful speech, slurred like you’re drunk despite being stone-cold sober, as he gently eases your cardigan off your shoulders.

“Every dance team I’ve been on, we’ve won…”

As JJ’s lips descend to your chest, you sigh. Fingers tightening just-so in his hair, spurring him on. One of his hands stays placed on your hip, a thumb rubbing circles on your exposed waist.

“Probably just ‘cause you’re a good dancer,” JJ mumbles against your skin.

“Not just that, though,” you muse. “I’m a good luck charm, I’m telling you. Nothing bad ever happens to the people around me. I’m lucky.”

Whatever you say, JJ thinks as he unhooks your bra. You help guide it off, sitting back against JJ’s thighs and lifting a perfectly manicured hand to his jaw. Your skin is soft like Mother of Pearl. Not a single cut or nick. Guiding his face up until his gaze meets yours, you lean down and press your lips to his. There’s no more laughter and no more silly stories. There’s no room in JJ’s brain to conjure anything other than thoughts of you. Your hair and your skin and your perfume and your nails and you. God, he wants to consume you. Breathe you in like vapour, soak you up like sunlight, feel you like the weather, all over him.

Nobody’s prettier than you.

Nobody prettier from this view, nestled between your thighs, almost suffocating as he swallows you up. More and more – insatiable. The distinct taste of you sits heavy on his tongue. It spurs him on like cocaine, energy unrelenting as he goes down on you. The sounds you make, the way you grab at him, grasp at the sheets, writhe and wriggle like it’s too much, like you can’t take it. But you can. Have before. Will again.

Your body bends to JJ’s will like water. You’re so trusting of him; have been ever since you met him. Let him take you how he wants, faithful in the pleasure he’ll give you. Usually JJ didn’t care much if girls thought him selfish in bed, but you? No, he needed you to give the mark of approval. He needed your praise, your validation, like his sex wouldn’t have meaning if you didn’t think it worthwhile. The way you fit around him; JJ swears to God it’s like you were made for him. He has you on your front, fucking you into the mountain of throw pillows that make up the head of your bed. He keeps your hips and ass angled upwards, holding you steady as he ruts into you over and over again. You’re a drooling, moaning mess underneath him. One of your hands is clenching and releasing the sheets much like your walls are to him. Having you like this – Christ, it makes JJ feel like a young God.

When you fall apart, it pushes JJ over the edge too, almost like a suicide pact. He’s not sure heroin could touch ecstasy quite like it. Drifting away on dopamine, JJ pulls out of you and flops onto his back, chest heaving. You shuffle atop of your sheets, curling up as you let the afterglow take over. JJ knows he should dote on you but he’s so tired and spent. After tying off and tossing the condom out in your bedroom trash, and tugging on his boxers, JJ lays back down on the bed beside you, flat on his back. One of your hands rests on his chest – damp with sweat. Just for a minute, JJ thinks. I’ll just close my eyes for one minute.

JJ tunes into the sensation of you stroking the bare skin of his back. It rouses him from sleep. Somehow, in his tiredness, he’d rolled over onto his front. Your sheets smell of fabric conditioner and safety. Goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets; a memory foam mattress that mimics what JJ might imagine falling asleep on a marshmallow to feel like.

“JJ?” You continue to run the side of your hand up and down his skin. "Are you awake?"

"No," he mumbles into the sheets.

“I want us to make this official.”

JJ groans sleepily. “Wha’dya mean?”

“I mean, I want us to put a label on this thing. I want to be your girlfriend, and I want you to be my boyfriend.”

It’s like the mattress has become a gaping wormhole and it’s sucking him in. That very thing that he was drawn to, entranced with, that very thing that he was learning and dreading to be true, every little insecurity and anxiety that had built and built since the second date…It’s all arriving at once, hitting him hard and fast like a meteor strike.

JJ turns his head, looking up at you. You’re watching him patient, a giddy-type smile on your face, slightly disquieted with nerves.

“Well…How do you know that?”

Brows furrowing, your smile doesn’t move. Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know…I just know. I…I know it because I feel it.”

Those words do nothing to ease the panic that’s building up JJ’s body. He shuffles until he’s sat upright, staring you down like you’re something dangerous. For some reason, your innocent request feels like a trap to him. A con. A joke that he’ll be the unwilling punchline of if he agrees. And he realises what that impending feeling was, all this time. It was him waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Lucy’s point to come true and for the curtains to be pulled. To find out what the hell you wanted with him.

“You can’t just say things like that. That’s a really messed up thing to say to someone,” JJ mutters, moving away from you.

You’re frowning now, befuddled. “Why is it? It’s true, and it’s how I feel. I want to make us official. I want us to be together.”

“Well, you’re saying that now but what about if we do get together, and I meet your parents and your friends, and you realise how different we are but you feel like you’re stuck with me, and then all of it was for nothing.”

Face the picture of perplexed, your mouth contorts into something ugly. “Where is all of this coming from? What did you think we were doing? I mean, we’ve been fine this past month and I know that there’s something between us.”

“How do you?”

“Because I’m not stupid, JJ,” you sharply reply.

Good, JJ thinks. You’re getting angry. You’ll lose your temper and you’ll let something slip that you weren’t supposed to, and he can bolt without a muddied conscience. He moves away from the bed and starts grabbing his strewn-about clothes in a frenzy to bolt.

“If there’s something between us, why haven’t I met any of your friends yet?”

You stare at him. He takes your hesitation as confirmation to his doubts. Pointing accusingly at you, he snarls, “because you’re embarrassed of me. You’re embarrassed to be seen with a Pogue-nobody from the Cut, in front of your Kook friends.”

“What is your obsession with me being a Kook!?” you exclaim. “Have you ever noticed how I never bring it up? How it’s always you, JJ, talking about it.”

“Well, I feel like I ought'a!”

“Why!?” you vociferate.

“Because what the hell do you want with me anyway!? You’re going to mess around with me for the summer, and get your kicks, and rebel against dear-old daddy, and then ditch me for some Kook jackass, who you’ll marry and he’ll take you on ski trips and summer’s in the Hamptons, and send your snotty children to expensive summer camps, and then you’ll laugh with all your trust-fund friends about how you went slumming once too.”

With that narrative, you laugh in disbelief, mystified. “What kind of fucking story are you spinning?”

“One that’s based on nothing but the facts,” JJ shouts. He’s shaking and angry, but it’s just his panic in disguise. He saw a glimpse of happiness with you and instinctively wanted to smash it up, like a psychopath child and a harmless butterfly. “I mean, you said it yourself - you wanted to do what you’re not supposed to do, for a change. Have a taste of rebellion and then go back to your rich-ass bubble wrap.”

JJ’s seen you possessive before. He’s seen you jealous, and scared, and snippy. But he’s never seen you angry. It’s horrifying.

“Did it ever occur to you that all of that has nothing to do with you? Has nothing to do with you being a Pogue, or me being a Kook?” you yell. Hands flying up to your chest, holding on like your heart might fall out of your skeleton, your voice turns thick. “I was miserable JJ! I was never allowed to do anything; never allowed to go anywhere. I did what my parents told me to do. I went to bed by nine every night. I was wasting my time with all these fucking after-school extra-circulars which I don’t even care about! I hate ballet! I hate piano! Christ, I hate all of it! And my friends are fake as anything. They say one thing to my face, and come to my house for pool parties, and then bitch about me behind my back! They’re assholes, JJ! So, yeah, I didn’t want to waste my time introducing you to them because I don’t actually like them!”

His lips start to quiver uncomfortably as he watches you unravel. It’s like JJ was pulling and pulling on a spring, and now he has to stand and watch it snap.

Make-up free, hair still tousled from earlier, oversized t-shirt half hanging off your frame: there’s no Kook defining thing about you here. It’s just you - just as it always had been.

JJ’s heart cracks as a tear falls down your cheek. With a shaky breath, in a quiet, defeated voice, you tell him, “I wanted to go out with you because I wanted to live. Because most of the time, I feel so useless and so alone that I wonder if I’m even here at all.”

And hearing you say that finally allows the curtain to fall. Only, it revealed to JJ something entirely different to what he expected. To what he’d told himself time and time again. Seeing you cry on your bed because of him…JJ’s made some real big mistakes in his life, but this one surpasses them all.

“So don’t put your shit on me because you’re the one that’s afraid,” you say, stealing yourself as you aggressively wipe your eyes. JJ’s narrow. It’s like poking a searing hot skewer into his most tender of wounds.

“Afraid? What do I have to be afraid of?”

“You’re afraid of me! You’re afraid that I won’t love you back! You’re afraid of what all the shallow people in the County will think! You know what, JJ? I’m afraid too! But fuck it - I want to give a try!”

It feels as exposing as having you peel back his skin. JJ pulls on his t-shirt and shakes his head, turning for the bedroom door, mumbling something about ‘I’m not doing this right now.’

You dart from the bed and grab at his arm, stopping him. “No. No, you’re not leaving,” you blubber.

JJ yanks out of your grip, turning around, lashing out like a stray animal approached all too quick. “What do you wanna know!” He yells. You recoil. “What? That I don’t have a great life? That I’m jealous of how you live compared to me! That I don’t want you to see how I really live because I’m ashamed shitless of it!”

You’re crying, hard, but JJ can’t find it in himself to stop. Why won’t he stop? The butterfly is dead, wings torn from the body, antenas shattered from the beating: but it’s like he doesn’t even want dust to remain.

“That my dad beats the shit out of me, so I sleep at John B’s house!? That I’ll probably end up in a prison cell or an early grave!? You ain't wanna hear that shit! Don’t tell me you want to hear that shit!”

“I do want to hear that stuff! I do want to hear it!” you argue through your sobs. You lift your hands as if you might try and cup his face. “I just want to help you.”

He retracts from your almost-there hold. “Help me! What the fuck! What, do I got a fucking sign on my back that says Save Me?”

“No!”

“Do I look like I need that!?”

Reaching for him again, tears streaming, you wail, “no! God, I just want to be with you because I love you!”

JJ grabs at your wrists, driving you away from him, driving you towards the door until your back presses against it, all the while yelling at you. Don’t bullshit me! Don’t fucking bullshit me!

JJ’s never been lucky to have good things. He waits for his friends to get up and leave. Knows his dad will too, one day, just like his ma. He’ll end up alone, drunk, high, and not long after, dead. You? You’re just a glitch in his programming. A girl who saw a project - yeah, that’s it. A girl who saw a project, a thing to fix, and the moment you have will be the moment that you get bored, and leave him broken hearted and alone. JJ knows more than anyone: you’ve got to leave before you get left.

But as you’re standing with your back against the wall, you don’t cower from him. Don’t wait for him to land a hit on you. Always so trusting. And seeing you, crying, sobbing, begging for him to listen to you, repeating that you love him over and over…JJ knows you’re not the malicious enemy he’s created in his mind. He knows you’re not.

“I want you to tell me that you don’t love me." A shuddering breath, trying to calm your quivering voice. “Because, if you do, I won’t call you anymore. And I won’t be in your life…”

And JJ’s never been good at admitting when he’s wrong. Maybe he learnt it from his dad. Maybe it’s a defensive mechanism. Maybe it’s dumb, childish youth that he never outgrew. So, as you sob, waiting for him to say something - to say you love him - JJ feels his face turn to stone. Cold, emotionless stone.

“I don’t love you.”

He grabs the rest of his shit in one quick sweep and he leaves your bedroom before he has to see the long-lasting damage he once again inflicted on someone. Slams the door. Rushes down the stairs. Passes the barking Ranger, alarmed by all the yelling, and dresses as he stumbles to the front door. In the air of the driveway, he takes a gasping breath, cringing with melancholic agony. Panic rises in his chest like a fist is clenching around his heart, over and over. He raises a hand, rubbing at the uncomfortable pain. JJ knows this feeling well. Knows it from childhood and from adolescence. Knows it almost as much as he knows breathing.

Heartbreak.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ distracted himself with drinking, smoking and treasure hunting. Indulged at night and diverted throughout the day to avoid any thoughts of you. He was lucky, in a way, that his friends were there to keep him busy. They only asked once why he wasn’t seeing you anymore, wondering why you were never around, and learnt their lesson never to ask again. He tried to hide behind the lie that he’d so easily told himself: that you were a spoilt-bitch Kook who would have ditched him soon anyway. But he remembers your voice and your face clear as day, begging for him to tell you that he loved you. He can picture all too easily your reaction the minute he stepped away from you, after telling the worst lie of his life.

Throwing himself into work was a good distraction. It’s hard to think about you when he’s thinking about how heavy the motor is that he’s lugging, or how close he’s cutting it on time to deliver groceries with Pope. His hurt made him wreckless, like he deserved whatever bad thing might come. You were good karma for returning Ranger and his mistreatment was bound to be paid back to him by the universe. Maybe that was why he’d been so eager to exact revenge on Topper and Rafe. Their attack on Pope certainly made it easier for JJ to handle his hurt when he was reminded of how awful most Kooks are. It was almost possible to group you in with them, to help mitigate the sting of guilt that came whenever your name crossed his mind. Almost.

But, like always, the consequences of his actions were bound to catch up to him. So, as JJ sits beside Pope and Kiara watching the outdoor movie play under the watchful gaze of Topper, Rafe and Kelce, he knows bad things are coming.

“JJ,” Pope says, nudging his leg.

“What?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

JJ’s leg is quivering with building adrenaline. “Hold it.”

“I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda.”

“It’s too exposed, they’ll totally see us,” JJ argues.

“I gotta go,” Pope insists.

JJ purses his lips and glances back over his shoulder the same time Pope turns around. Their eyes land on the three pissed off Kooks, sat like mob bosses, biding their time. They might as well be smoking a pipe and stroking their one-eyed cat like some '50s Bond villain.

“They’re blocking the bathrooms,” Pope observes.

Yeah, no shit. JJ looks around, noticing the woodland behind the giant projection screen. “Alright, come here. I know where.”

The two of them get to their feet, hunching over as they go to move. When Kiara asks where they’re going, JJ shrugs and tells her, ‘we gotta ring it out.’ With that, they venture to the screen and relieve themselves just behind it, out of view, into the shrubs. As they piss, Pope and JJ banter. JJ finishes first, zipping up his fly and turning around to keep watch.

“You bring the peacemaker?” Pope asks, referring to JJ’s beloved gun.

His stomach drops. “Oh, shit, I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?”

“Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Dude, you had one job. That’s all I asked you to do, man,” Pope complains as he finishes up.

“I know, let’s go,” JJ quickly replies. The moment he turns, JJ comes face to face with Rafe. Fuck.

“What’s up Pogues?”

“What’s up, Rafe?” JJ casually replies, walking backwards with Pope as Rafe approaches steadfast. He won’t let on that he’s scared - learnt that from his dad. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

As Pope tries to make a run for it, Topper emerges, Kelce in tow. “Hey that was some nice work you did on my boat!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pope fumbles.

JJ assesses the situation. Three on two. Pope isn’t the strongest fighter. No gun. Yeah, the odds are not stacked in their favour.

“Not so burly without a gun now, are you?” Rafe taunts.

JJ’s jaw ticks, his anger rising with his annoyance. The adrenaline is pumping and working its usual magic. Bring it on, pussy. I can take a few licks - it’s my birth-right.

“Take one more step and I’ll rip that prepubescent face off,” JJ warns through clenched teeth. He watches as Topper approaches Pope leisurely.

“Hey Pope, do you feel good about yourself, stealing shit? Is your mom proud of you? Is your dad proud of you?”

Pope slams his head into Topper’s upper chest and pride swills through JJ. “Attaboy! Attaboy!” He grabs his friend’s shoulder, lifting his clenched fist. “Now with your fist, see?”

With that, Rafe claims him. They begin to get in a dust-up. JJ takes the first few punches; each one that lands on his cheek brings searing hot pain that quickly vanishes with shock. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. He taps into the pit inside of him, deep and angry and bitter. His self-hatred, for all the shit he put you through, for all the shit his dad and mom pegged on him…Throws his own punches, then. Wrestles too. Blood begins to draw. Lips crack open. Eyebrows split. But then it’s two on one: Kelce grabbing at him, holding him steady so Rafe can just lay into him. JJ’s winded as Rafe’s fist meets his stomach. He collapses in Kelce’s hold as Rafe right hooks him. And every hit, JJ takes like it’s his earnt punishment.

“Come on, Rafe,” JJ provokes through the agonising pain. “That all you got?”

“Let go of him Topper! You fascist asshole!”

Kiara. She helps Pope first, hitting Topper with JJ’s backpack. At least, that’s what JJ sees through the double vision. The backpack. The gun. Topper grabs it off her and tosses it, and then JJ’s too busy getting the shit beaten out of him to see what follows. It’s all just noise. Blends almost cinematically with the sound of the old-timey movie playing. At some point, it even sounds like there’s a dog barking. Blood fills his mouth like he’s at some sadistic dentist surgery. Pain numbs his nerve endings and softens his muscles. Air becomes a rarity as he’s held in a headlock, half-strangled.

“Let go of them right now!”

Everyone goes still. JJ only notices because he finally has a second to catch his breath, gasping as the arm around his throat loosens just slightly. He opens his eyes, desperate to get his vision steady, and…no fucking way.

There you stand like some designer vigilante heroine. Hair perfect, as always, with not a strand out of place; jewellery to the nines; make-up enhancing your gorgeous features. In your hand, clasped between perfectly manicured nails, is JJ’s gun. It’s pointed directly at Rafe’s forehead.

Rafe laughs. “What? That supposed to scare me or something?”

You grit your teeth, harden your stare, and remain stoic and strong in your stance. Rafe just quirks a brow, a sick smile twisting upwards.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna be the hero here? Why don’t you just run back to your daddy and mind your own fucking business?”

“Let. Them. Go.”

JJ realises then that Ranger is standing by your side. He’s growling, looking feral like Cujo, salivating at the mouth, death-glare set on Kelce who still holds JJ in a headlock. Your command and Kelce might lose a leg.

“What’s it to you?” Topper snaps.

“They’re my friends.”

Okay, no, JJ must have fucking blacked out or something. In the brain damage caused by Rafe, he’s seeing things. You’re his own guardian angel that his dying brain has conjured - that is the only explanation.

All of the Kooks laugh. “Your friends?”

“I won’t ask you again,” you darkly warn, not a spit of humour in your voice.

Rafe whistles lowly. He mockingly raises his hands to his head in surrender. Shares a laugh with Topper and Kelce. It vanishes the minute you unclip the safety.

“You wouldn’t,” Rafe tells you.

Slowly, maleficently, the faintest shadow of a smirk forms on your lip-glossed mouth. “You really want to test that theory?”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how JJ Maybank ended up in the most insane predicament of his life. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next: not JJ, and probably not even you. As JJ waits, his eyes dart down to Ranger. The very thing that started all of this.

Rafe sniffs. He juts his head at Kelce. When Kelce finally lets JJ go, Topper does the same with Pope. Kiara helps Pope up. JJ leans over, hands on his knees, coughing and gasping in air.

“You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess,” Rafe warns you as he saunters away with his posse. If JJ wasn’t on the brink of passing out, he’d lay him out for even looking at you.

The minute the three Kooks round the screen, acting as if nothing even happened, you drop the gun on the backpack and race over to JJ. It’s hard not to flinch after his moments-before assault when you clutch his shoulders. He realises that you’re shaking. Hears in the quiver of your voice how shit-scared you are.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

No and no.

“Do you need to sit down? What should I–”

No, definitely don’t sit down.

“Come on - we need to go,” Kiara tells you. She has Pope’s weight on her.

You seem to copy, taking her guidance from her years of experience with hanging with the guys, and guide JJ away from the scene of the crime. You grab the backpack as you go, the gun shoved inside (safety now on). Ranger licks anxiously at JJ’s hand, whining in worry.

“I’m alright, boy,” JJ lies to the dog in a slur.

swirling, becoming blacker and blacker with every step. His body is screaming for rest and reprieve. He vaguely overhears you tell Kie where you’re parked. Lets you half-drag him to your ride. The minute JJ’s helped into the backseat, safe in the smell of you, he blacks out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing JJ notices when he wakes up is how much his head hurts. There’s a headache above his brows, similar to that which you get when hungover. It feels like his brain was a ping pong ball, rattled around in there for hours on end. Sniffing, he groans as he tries to sit up. There’s a hand pushing him back down to the bed gently.

“Just lie still, for now,” you say softly. “No sudden movements, okay?”

JJ groans again, eyes pressed shut. At the sensation of a straw pressing against his lips, he drinks.

“Open your mouth,” you say after he swallows. JJ does as he’s told, in too much pain to argue. You give him a few pills - presumably painkillers - and help him chase them with water. “I’ll be right back.”

JJ must fall back asleep. When he comes to for the second time, the pain in his head is significantly lessened, as are all the general aches and pains of his body. He dreads the idea of looking in a mirror: he’s probably black and blue. Saying that, it’s not like it’s an unfamiliar state to him. Opening his eyes, he immediately recognises your bedroom. As if on cue, you walk through the door, a mug of what must be steaming hot tea in hand. When your eyes meet his, a relieved smile comes to your face.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he rasps.

Making your way over, tea deposited on the bedside table, you take the seat next to him. Shit, no wonder he was sleeping so well. Your bed is like sponge cake.

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit,” JJ grunts. You stifle a laugh. Shifting to sit up, his brows furrow as last night comes back to him, piece by piece. “Did I…Was I hallucinating, or did you save our ass?”

“Mmm, I might have maybe just saved your ass,” you innocently reply.

Shaking his head, JJ rubs tiredly at his face.

“I’m not even going to ask what Rafe and his gang of fairies were angry about.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” JJ cringes.

He finally braves holding your gaze. There’s a distance there - a reluctance to be fully present - and JJ knows it’s because of him.

“That was really ballsy, what you did,” he tells you.

“It's nothing,” you quietly reply.

“You’re probably going to lose your Kook card now.”

“Never liked it that much in the first place,” you say with a half-smile.

JJ silently laughs, shaking his head, mesmerised. He was so wrong about you. About all of it. “I was, uh...kind of a dick to you.”

“Yeah…”

“And…you were right,” he mumbles.

Brows lifting slightly, a small, amused smile teases your lips. “What was that sorry?”

“You were right,” he repeats, no louder.

Leaning in, a finger to your ear, you say, “one more time, I didn't quite catch it.”

“Fuck off,” JJ groans, shoving you away with hardly any force.

You snort out a laugh. The moment the humour passes, you look back to him. He feels as though he can hear your thoughts. Your anger and annoyance and insecurity and pain. He hears it all in the emotion swimming through your eyes. So, he nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, JJ,” you whisper.

One of his hairs falls into his face. Before he can react, you’re leaning forward, brushing it out the way. JJ captures your wrist quickly, keeping you near, almost panicked that if you move even a millimetre away, he’ll lose you forever. In that same frenzy, desperate to have you close, he forces out the three words he’s never let himself say to anyone. Ever.

“I love you.”

Face an exact replica of the one you made that day on the beach, you blink at him. Once, then twice. JJ nods again.

“I just…I can’t…It doesn’t…”

“I know,” you say, forehead bumping against his own as you lean down. Then, in a whisper, you add, “I know. It’s okay.”

JJ sniffs, suddenly overcome with emotion, and nods against you. As his eyes press shut, you kiss him. It’s slightly salty with tears but no less welcome. He winces as your hand cups his jaw. Kisses you through your mumbled apology against his lips.

And as the two of you kiss, JJ realises that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was you. Wonderfully, princess-perfect, Kook-turned-Pogue you.

want more? read the sequel to risk here!

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #obx fic #jj x kook!reader #kook!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #obx kook #kook x pogue

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irndad · 4 months ago

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She favorites recipes on Instagram.

It’s a little embarrassing how Carmen knows- that when she’s at his place watching him sketch dishes she can’t taste, he’s also paying attention to what’s on her phone. And it’s usually kistchy things- dresses and outfits with legwarmers, pop-culture breakdowns he doesn’t have time to understand, and yes, occassionally, recipes.

Carmen adores her company. It’s a private truth, one that they boht know and yet he can’t admit under her gaze. She’s a friend of Richie’s which is endlessly fucking confusing. Both because of how incredible she is, and because it is truly insane to imagine Richie with friends.

Carmen supposes they’re friends too, now. It doesn’t feel quite right, the way she scribbles notes for him in the mornings and has slept over quite often. She’s busy, has her own life and her own career and he’s lucky for the time he spends with her. He doesn’t really have time to date her the way he’d like to, with dinner dates and late night drives down Lake Shore, watching the sunrise over the lake on mornings where time feels like no object.

He’s clearly given this some thought.

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter now. Now, she’s slept over. He’s got a full-size, which felt like a good enough excuse to share the bed, even though every time they do he still ends wrapped around her like a vice, like roots of a tree, raveled in a way that seems inpenetrable.

She’s sipping on an energy drink- he’s offered her the coffee that he’s imported, and prepared with care, but she’d obviously thought it was too bitter. And now he keeps energy drinks in the house when she stays over. She’s popped in one of her wired earbuds, and the light washes over her like a halo. She’s got a bonafide glow while she sits on his counter, scrolling through recipes.

“That looks good,” he hears himself say, a little outside of himself, as she stops scrolling. It’s a pasta dish, and she’s favorited it. It looks more complex than it is, really, but he’s not sure he’s a good source.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I had it once when I was in Paris. It was fucking insane, Carmen, it’s so good. I’m always looking for a place to get it. I don’t really think there’s a place in Chicago where you can get it, actually.”

“It was seasonal actually,” he says back, her eyes fixed to his now, “Ever used to make it every fall. Easier to source the pine nuts.”

She looks so, so fond of him that Carmen could entertain the idea of leaning over the counter and kissing her. It’s incredibly tempting, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, endeared by his knowledge. He feels guilty, how he plays with the pencil, knowing she’s stared appreciatively at his hands. He enjoys being pretty to her, leaning into the fantasy that he could be more than her weird fuck-up friend of a friend that’s too chicken-shit to ask her out. How odd is it, that he knows what it’s like to wake up to the smell of her shampoo, but has no idea how she likes to be kissed?

He’s so bad at this he’s failed before he’s even started.

He can cook, though.

Cooking is methodical, and so he does it. it’s an easy love language, for him. he dices the parsely and the other fresh herbs, sautes them wirh precision, uses some of the nice butter from work- it’s a marvel, at the end of it, fragrant and warm, waiting for her arrival.

When she does make her arrival, just on time for him, he plates the dish before she comes in.

“Oooh,” she preens, raking her eyes up and down him. He feels perciebed, but in a way that he’d like to be. Look at me, he thinks. What a pleasure to be seen by her. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers out, “Thought I’d thank you for all your help. Late nights you’ve been staying up with me, talking through the menu and all- thought I could make you something.”

When she tastes it, it’s careful and adoring, and he’s good at this.

“Yes chef,” she says teasingly, “Oh my god, Carmen, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. I like being here.”

He wants to kiss her again, doesn’t know why he’s not letting himself. She meets him halfway, though, kissing the corner of his mouth that only a fool would imply has plausible platonic deniability.

“Thanks, Carm.”

“Anytime.”

He’ll kiss her properly next time.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x You #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #the bear x reader

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bloodibambiidoll · 22 days ago

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Hiiii bb🥺 can I pretty pls request rafe x bitchy!reader with the prompts “Gonna fuck you until the only word you remember is my name.” And “Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now.”. Maybe this is their first time together and she’s being all smug and he shows just what he’s capable of? Love you doll🩷

Hi, my love!! But ofc!! I went with Frat!Rafe for this one and reader is implied to be an alternative sorority girl. Enemies to lovers, flirty banter, face fucking, bondage, cum swallowing, fingering, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, biting, breeding kink, unprotected sex. 18+!!!!

“We are never going to happen, Cameron, give it up.” You scoff as you look down at your black and red perfectly, pointed nails.

“I’m not gonna give up until you admit I’m right.” Rafe smirks as he moves in closer to you. There’s only a few inches between you and his large frame and your back is up against the wall. He tracked you down at yet another party and stopped you in the hall. Like a moth to flame, he always seems to find you. “I know you want me.”

“No, that’s just what you tell yourself so you can justify this obsession you have with me.” You glance up at him long enough to throw him a glare before returning your attention to your nails. You’re careful not to let him see your eyes for too long because then he’ll know he’s right. You do want him.

For some fucking reason. You’re pretty much the only girl in your sorority he hasn’t fucked around with and you take great pleasure in not being added to that list. “Go find Heather or something, I’m sure she’s just dying to hop back on your shrimp dick.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Rafe grits his teeth as he closes the distance between you, his face is so close you can feel his breath on your skin and smell his expensive cologne. But you still don’t give him the time of day and it drives him insane. You’re not wrong, he’s obsessed with you. And it pisses him the fuck off. He’s tried every angle with you, the only reason he even started fucking your soririty sisters was for your attention. He will take what he can get, even if it’s negative. “You’re always fuckin’ bringing other bitches into it, are you really that jealous, baby?”

“Ha!” You throw your head back with a laugh, meeting his eyes with an icy gaze that goes straight to his cock. You’re not like any of the other girls on this entire island. Your thick eyeliner, glossy dark, red lips, and your chunky shoes have him so down bad he doesn’t even want to admit it to himself. “You’re fucking delusional, Cameron. I couldn’t give a shit less who your fuck of the night is.”

“Yeah? I think you’re lying.” Rafe gives you that fuck boy smirk that you wish so badly didn’t secretly work on you and it makes you want to slap him. His arm comes up on the wall by your head, caging you in and further enveloping you in his scent. He leans down so his lips are brushing the shell of your ear and it makes your stomach tighten. “I think you want me to fuck you so bad that it pisses you off.”

“Oh my fucking god! Do you ever shut up?!” You groan and throw your head back before trying to duck under his arm but Rafe’s free hand finding your hip keeps you in place.

“Nah.” Rafe chuckles as he tongues the inside of his cheek, his eyes roaming your face like he’s wondering what to do with you. “But I can think of several ways to shut your bratty ass up right now.”

“I’d like to see you fucking try.” Rafe looks down at you like the cat that caught a mouse as he loops his arm around your waist and hauls you down the hall toward one of the open rooms. He ushers you inside before slamming the door and then he slams your back against the wood.

“You have no idea what you just fucking asked for, little mouse.” Rafe chuckles darkly as his hand comes up to grip onto your chin, forcing eye contact. You try to shake your face free but his grip is too strong. That doesn’t stop you from trying as you glare at him through your lashes. You’re not giving in that easily. “Quit fighting it, just admit you fuckin’ want me.”

“Fucking make me, Cameron.” You thrash around in his hold, not even really trying to break free, just holding onto your pride. Your sharp nails come up to claw his wrist and it only makes his grip on your face tighten.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna have you fuckin’ begging for it.” The hand on your face laces into the back of your hair, using it as leverage to pull you to the middle of the room.

His free hand grips onto your throat and he pulls your face against his, mashing your lips together in a filthy kiss. You get lost in it for a moment but when his tongue forces its way into your mouth you clamp your teeth down on it. He hisses and pulls his head back, his eyes burning blue flames into yours as he looks down at you.

“I’m never going to beg for you. You stupid fucking asshole, you’re such a -” Your words are cut short when Rafe’s sneaker clad foot sweeps under your platform heels while he uses his grip on your head to manhandle you to your knees in front of him. You growl in the back of your throat and your fingers claw his wrists again. It only makes Rafe cock twitch.

“Maybe you aren’t a mouse after all, huh? You’re a feisty little kitty.” Rafe chuckles and grabs both of your wrists in one of his big hands, holding them tight in front of you. “And kitten’s need to be taught it’s not okay to scratch.”

“You’re a joke if you think you’re gonna be the one to tame me. All you frat boys are the same. Get your nut, and get out. Why do you think I haven’t fucked you already, dumb ass?!”

“You’re always calling me names, baby.” Rafe chuckles as he keeps your hands held in place and uses his free hand to undo his belt. You watch with wide eyes as he pulls it from the loops and when he brings it up to your wrists you hate that your pussy clenches at the thought of what he’s about to do. You half heartedly try to wiggle away as he loops the belt around your wrists, restraining you. “It’s funny cause after I’m done with you the only thing you’re going to remember is my name.”

“This is cute.” You snicker as you wiggle your wrists and shift on your knees, Rafe can’t take the chance of you getting up so he grips onto your hair again, ensuring you stay right where he wants you. “I really like this whole ‘daddy dom’ act you’re putting on, very convincing.”

“Didn’t I say I was done with your fuckin’ mouth?” Rafe uses his free hand to undo his button and zipper and you can’t help the way your eyes hone in on what he’s doing. You have to physically hold in a gasp at the sheer size of his cock when he pulls it out and strokes himself a few times.

“Now why don’t you be a good little slut and make it useful?” He tilts your head back with his grip on your hair and taps the head of his cock on your glossy lips. Some of the red stain streaks onto his tip and the sight drives him insane. “Gonna make such a fuckin’ mess of you. Open your bratty mouth.”

“Open my mouth? Okay, I’ll open my mouth to tell you that you’re-” Your sentence is cut short by Rafe’s cock slipping past your lips. He pushes his shaft all the way to the back of your throat, making you gag on it. He pulls back far enough for you to take a breath of air but as soon as you start to talk again he’s back down your throat.

“Now be a good little girl and fuckin’ suck it.” The horniness in your body is starting to overpower your will to rebel against what it wants. Rafe’s hand finds the back of your head so he can push you all the way down on his cock with your nose flush against his pelvis. It makes you gag and drool and he holds you there until you swallow around him. He pulls out to the tip and you swirl your tongue around in, making his eyes roll back with a moan. You instantly become addicted to the sound, wanting to hear more. You want to hear what he sounds like when he cumes and you’re so tired of pretending you don’t. He thrusts his hips forwards and starts to fuck your throat roughly. You wrap your lips tightly around him, gliding your tongue along his shaft as he uses your mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I’m tallkin’ about baby, knew there was a cock hungry slut underneath that bratty attitude.”

“Gonna cum down this pretty little throat and then I’m going to use that pussy as I please, yeah? Nod if you understand.” You nod the best you can with him brutally fucking your throat and it doesn’t take much more than that to have him stilling in your mouth. Rafe’s cum spills down your throat as he throws his head back and moans. “Fuck. Fuckin’ swallow it.”

You oblige him, swallowing every drop he gives you. Rafe looks down at you devilishly as he pulls you from his cock. He’s already half hard at the sight of you on your knees in front of him like this. Your lipgloss is smeared around your mouth and that meticulously done eyeliner is streaming down your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt that your hands are bound either.

“What are you staring at, weirdo?” You snark at him and Rafe grips onto your arms underneath your shoulders so he can toss you onto the bed.

“You still got that fuckin’ attitude?” Rafe smirks as he grabs onto your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed, making your little skirt ride up and reveal your black thong. He runs his big hands down your thighs so he can push your skirt up further, making it pool around your hips. The wet spot that’s visible even in black makes him smirk. “What’s it gonna take to get you to stop being a brat? You need it fucked out of you? The dick you’ve been getting around here isn’t satisfying you?”

“Will you just stop being annoying and fuck me already?” You roll your eyes as you wiggle beneath him, your hands still being bound limiting your movements.

“Nah, cause’ I don’t want to just fuck you, princess. I want you to fuckin’ submit to me. Beg for it.”

“Seriously?” You whine and throw your head back but it just earns you a grip on your jaw, forcing you to keep eye contact.

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ talking to you.” Rafe’s voice holds a level of authority that makes your head spin. You really didn’t think he had all of this in him and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. His free hand comes up to push your panties to the side so he can run his fingers through your dripping slit. “I know you want it baby, you’re so wet f’me.”

“Yeah, because I want you to fuck me, okay?!” You huff out as you angle your hips to try and chase his fingers that he keeps just barely dipping into your entrance before denying you the pleasure.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, princess.” Rafe licks his lips as his fingers circle your clit agonizingly slow, making your clit pulse. “Beg.”

“Please.” You whimper out, so quietly that if Rafe wasn’t inches from your face he wouldn’t have heard it. He smirks at you and you feel his fingers circle your entrance again but this time he thrusts two knuckle-deep inside of you. He pumps them in and out of you while curling his fingers against your walls and it makes your back arch.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers till you’re begging for my fuckin’ cock.” Rafe’s thumb finds your clit and presses hard circles on it in time with his thrusts and your walls clench around him. He roughly grabs the hem of your little lace top and pushes it over your tits, moaning at the sight of them. He leans down and takes one into his mouth and it has you tumbling into euphoria embarrassingly fast.

“Oh, fuck! I’m fucking cumming, oh my god.” You moan loudly as Rafe continues to fuck you with his fingers. He fucks you through it but just as you’re starting to come down from that high he brings you back to the top again. “Oh shit!”

“Yeah that’s right, slut. Gimme another one.” Rafe’s fingers move impossibly faster and he slides a third one inside you while the heel of his palm grinds against your clit as you come undone for him again. His fingers slow and your chest heaves as you come down from your second orgasm. You think he’s going to give you a break and finally fuck you. But his fingers start to pick up the pace again and you know you thought wrong. “One more.”

“I can’t, Rafe!” You writhe beneath him but he uses a hand to pin your hip to the bed. “Please just fuck me!”

“Yeah, that’s right, slut. Say my fuckin’ name. Say it while you cum on my fingers again.” You practically scream his name as you gush around his fingers and your entire body wracks with pleasure. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Rafe pulls his fingers from you and brings them to his lips with a groan. He grabs onto the string of your panties and rips them down your legs before positioning himself between your legs with his cock in his hand. He taps his head against your over sensitive clit and it makes you gasp.

“Beg for my cock again, princess. Wanna hear it.” Rafe licks his plush bottom lip as he looks down at you through half lidded eyes. “Don’t even think about giving me an attitude either. I’ll jerk off and cum all over your pretty little skirt and leave you with nothing.”

“Please, Rafe, please fuck me? I wanna feel you buried deep inside me please -“ Rafe lines up with your entrance before pushing himself balls deep into your pussy in one hard thrust. “Oh, shiiiiit.”

“God fuckin’ damn.” Rafe moans as he pulls out of you to the tip before slamming back into you and fucking into you like a man possessed. “You’re so fuckin’ tight. Pussy is squeezing me so good, baby.”

One of Rafe’s hands grips onto your hip so hard you’re sure there's going to be prints of his fingers tomorrow. The other hand grips onto your throat and squeezes, cutting off your airflow in the most delicious way. He leans down and crushes your lips with a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and dancing with your own.

“Knew you’d look so pretty all split open on my cock.” Rafe chuckles as he grips onto your jaw and shakes your head from side to side. “Tell me you fuckin’ love this shit.”

“I love it, daddy, you’re so big.” Your voice is a breathy moan, a stark contrast to the way you were talking to him not so long ago. “You’re fucking me so good.”

“So you really did just need that little attitude fucked out of you, didn’t you, Princess?” Rafe shoves his face into your neck. He attacks your skin with little bites and sucks, surely leaving marks behind. You honestly hope he does. “Calling me daddy n’ shit, fuck. I’m gonna breed this fuckin’ pussy then everybody on this damn campus will know who owns your ass.”

“Oh god, fuck yes! Fill me up, please? Give me your cum, daddy!” Any and all attitude you had earlier on is completely erased from your mind. All you can think about is Rafe’s cock and how good he’s making you feel.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck you so full it’ll be dripping down your legs when we leave this party. I’m gonna take you back to my place and eat it outta you.” Rafe leans up on his knees and grabs his belt binding your wrists with both his hands. He props both of his knees under your ass so your hips are angled and then he pulls you down on his cock over and over again like a rag doll. “Then I’m gonna fill you again and again until it’s dripping out for days. You’re mine now, baby. Say it and I’ll make you cum again.”

“I’m yours, Rafe!” You whine as you try to meet his erratic thrusts but he’s bouncing you on his cock so fast you can hardly think. That coil in your stomach is wound so tight it’s about to explode. Your hands fly up and grip onto Rafe’s wrist for purchase, your nails digging into his skin making his cock twitch inside you. “God, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it baby, cum all over daddy’s big cock.” It only takes a few more pumps of his cock against your sweet spot to have your walls convulsing around him. You throw your head back with a loud moan of Rafe’s name, making your back arch and your tits jiggle beautifully. It's enough to have Rafe’s cock pulse while he cums right along with you, spilling ropes of his thick cum into your walls.

He doesn’t stop fucking you until you both come down from your highs and then he’s gently unbinding your hands from his belt. The minute your hands are free your body falls limp on the bed from exhaustion and Rafe chuckles as he looks down at you fondly.

“What’re you laughing at, jerk?” You roll your eyes and groan.

“Nothin’ you’re just cute, s’all.” Rafe chuckles again and you look at him in the eyes through your tired lashes. “I like you like this. All fucked out and covered in my cum. You still got that attitude, though.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think it’s going anywhere anytime soon, dickhead.” You giggle and throw him a playful glare that he returns with a genuine smile. It makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Oh? Well it looks like I’ll just have to keep trying to get you to be nice to me then, huh?” Rafe plops down on his side next to you, letting his pointer finger gently caress the side of your face. “Plus, I kinda like it when you’re mean to me. It gets me going.”

“Oh my god! You’re so annoying.” You laugh and Rafe joins in before leaning over to kiss you so gently it surprises you. When he pulls back he holds your face in his hands and looks at you so sweetly it makes you feel like you’re going to puke.

“I definitely want to see you all fucked out and sweetly begging for me some more though.” Rafe bites his lip as he looks down at you. “Lemme take you home, yeah? Then maybe tomorrow I can take you on a date?”

“A date?” You scoff out a laugh and raise your eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I’ve obviously been trying to hit this entire time. But if you would’ve given me to the time of day before biting my head off, you’d know I’ve been trynna ask your little ass out in a date for weeks now.” Rafe rolls his eyes playfully as he squishes your cheeks together with his fingers. “So, what do you say?”

“You know what? Fuck it.” You push yourself up on your elbows with a grin. “Let’s go on a fucking date, asshole.”

“Alright then, brat.” Rafe leans down and presses a messy kiss on your lips. “Get your ass up and get dressed so I can take you home with me. It’s a date.”

Tagging mooties: @cameronwillow @cxrrodedcoffin @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysbabygirl @starkeyprincess @oceandriveab @sarahsangelicdoll @rafesheaven

Divider by @anitalenia

#Rafe Cameron #dolly’s milestone celebration #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #Rafe blurb #frat!rafe #frat!Rafe Cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #I low key hate the end but it’s FINE

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reignpage · 2 months ago

Text

Frat Boy!Gojo

Staropramen: drink up

Content: context to part 1 of Modern au!Gojo's smau, just the first picture, wanted to write a little so I thought I'd do this one, not proofread

You pace back and forth in your room. The sky outside is darkening, dulling into dark orange hues, setting your room alight. You sweat, palms growing clammy. Part of your hair is tied up, arranged into some silly, convoluted up-do and your makeup contrasts with the soft curls framing your face. The maids twisted and pulled and plucked until you’re as presentable as possible, but you insisted, practically fought them, to let you do the rest.

So your piercings stay on, eyeliner as thick as ever, and lips painted a dark shade. And the dress hanging on the door? Well, it’s just as black as everything else in your wardrobe.

This dinner’s important. You know that, as do the maids; your parents had been emphasising how every dinner, every engagement, every invite from the Gojos were important, so important, in fact, that preparations had begun hours ago, well before the clock could strike 7pm.

But there’s one person who doesn’t seem to get the memo. Any of them.

One person who has evaded every meeting, every phone call, every email, letter, hell, every fax from your family. And he gets away with it. Every. Time.

“It’s not fair,” you mumble, fidgeting with your lip ring, “I missed one dinner because I was literally sick and no one spoke to me for weeks. But he gets to miss every single one and we can’t say shit?”

A glance at the Sattler table clock by your bed says it’s nearing showtime. The chauffeur must already be running the car, awaiting your family. You’d have to put on that stupid dress and those stupid heels and plaster on a stupid smile, and shake stupid hands and eat stupid food and stupidly wait for someone who’s never going to show up.

And it’ll be your fault.

That’s what the looks they’ll give you will say. Somehow, you’ve messed up this engagement before it could even really begin, because, of course, it’s the girl’s fault that the guy is an irresponsible idiot.

You didn’t want to have to do this. Didn’t want to have to cave first. But you must. So you pick up your phone and send a message to a number you hoped you never would have to contact.

A girl had given it to you earlier in the week.

She seemed familiar, perhaps she’s one of the more popular students, not that you interact with them. God, just the thought sends shivers down your spine. But when you had seen her parting ways with Gojo, your feet took you to her faster than you could even process and she was smiling at you with a look of surprise.

It’d be great to say the surprise was just because she hadn’t expected you to approach her but that would be a lie. She probably wasn’t expecting someone dressed like you to stand before her in broad daylight and not ask for a drop of her blood to offer up to your gods, or whatever else people tend to think about you.

When you asked if you could get Gojo’s number for ‘something important’, she didn’t fight you, she simply smiled more softly and eagerly typed his number into your phone, flashing you a wink before saying she has a lecture on fluid dynamics that she can’t miss. You assumed she was a physics student, not that she really gave you that vibe, but who are you to say anything?

You frown at his replies.

What a dick.

A honk breaks you out of your sudden violent desires to strangle and offer a certain frat president up for sacrifice, and you rush to put the dress on, already feeling the phantom ache in your feet at the thought of wearing insanely tall heels.

You take one last look of your phone and sigh.

This is going to be a long night.

On the other side of the city, however, lays a boy on a king sized bed. He’s shirtless, joggers hanging low on his hips as he glares at his ceiling, willing it to cave in and kill him right there and then.

“Why did you give her my number?”

A girl giggles on the other side of the bed. She’s wearing nothing but his shirt, typing frantically on her phone, most likely texting a certain blond tutor. Then with a sideways glance at the pouting child thumping his fist on the mattress to get her attention, she flicks his forehead with manicured nails.

“Because,” she drags out, “she looked fun. I like her.”

Gojo groans. “You can’t like her. She’s the enemy!”

The girl rolls her eyes with a grin, half entertained by his theatrics and half excitedly waiting for Nanami’s reply. She had just sent a text asking him if he listens to music whilst having his ‘special alone time’, and the three dots dancing on the screen is making her heart skip a beat.

A pillow gets smacked in her face and when it falls down, her view is obstructed by a pointed look. Focus on me and my dilemma or die, is what it says.

What are they talking about again? Oh right.

“She’s not the enemy, Satoru. She’s just like you.”

The white-haired man pouts even harder. He doesn’t want to admit that the thought had already crossed his mind; she’s a pawn in the game just as he is. But he can’t accept her existence. Because to do so would be like accepting his parents plans, accepting that he has so little say in anything that goes on in his life, and ultimately submitting to the terrible fate of being a Gojo.

His friend has returned to her phone, squealing in a way that makes Satoru wince, and he doesn’t want to ask what she’s blushing over. He’d kill her and himself if she shows him a dick pic again.

Then, as if his mood has somehow lightened, he pokes the girl on her shoulder, ignoring the scowl she gives in return, and asks, almost absentmindedly, “Is she pretty? My….fiancée, I mean?”

Gojo doesn’t know her name.

He’s sure someone had told him but anything to do with the word ‘engagement’ makes him blank out, static playing in his head.

A devious smirk creeps up on her face, eyes dazzling with mischief as she looks over at her friend, lying on his stomach now, bright blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. It occurred to her, when he mumbled his question, that he has no idea what she looks like. Satoru is in for one hell of a shock when he finds out that the girl he had been envisioning as the most prissy little future housewife is actually someone he totally would do a double take over.

It’s gonna be so fun to watch this whole thing play out, she thought. But she can’t make it easy for her stupid friend. Never.

So, she returns her focus on her screen, biting her lip at Nanami’s stern ‘behave’ message and dangles the answer in Satoru’s face.

“You know Choso, right? Sukuna’s younger cousin?”

He nods hurriedly, patience running very thin.

But that’s all she’s willing to give.

And Satoru groans, nose crinkling in irritation. Quick as lightning, he snatches her phone from her hands, and sends the most recent picture on her camera roll to the guy he’s been hearing too much about.

“You didn’t…”

Her tone is disbelieving, a horrified expression pulling her features down before she lunges for her phone and shrieks at the picture of her lying on the floor after slipping on olive oil in Gojo’s kitchen. Her face was distorted in a blur and her dress had ridden up to reveal a hot pink g-string.

Nanami’s going to block her.

He’s going to complain to Professor Yaga and it’ll all be over.

Satoru shrugs and heads to his bathroom, using the excuse of needing a shower to cover up the fact that he has every intention of searching up what a certain art student looks like through socials.

Sure, he could search for his fiancee directly, ask one of his assistants to gather a detailed file, but where’s the fun in that?

Through the door, he hears his friend’s panicked voice, desperately trying to rationalise that the reason why her tutor isn’t answering is because he’s busy and not because he’s calling the police on her for sexual harassment.

She really is the dumb to his dumber because if she knew anything about men, then she’d know he’s totally jerking off to that picture. Nerds are more repressed than anyone else, so she’s gonna have to wait a little longer for him to regain sanity.

Under the hot stream, Gojo’s thoughts shift to a different focus, a girl resembling Choso, the brooding artist cousin of Sukuna, the devil spawn.

There’s simply no way he’d ever like someone like that.

It’s impossible.

Right?

#jjk drabble #jjk angst #jjk fluff #Gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk crack #jjk x you #gojo satoru

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hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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college fling!hoshi

WARNINGS: hoshi trying on stilettos, smut, blowjob + handjob body fluids (spit, cum), hoshi has the HIP GAME!!!! penetrative sex, g'spot stimulation, him getting obsessed with the sight of reader cumming for days <3333

WC: 2.6k of it, bc i forgot how this kind of imagine should be midway 🤝

part 1 / part 2

college fling!hoshi who, since that night, started finding every excuse to touch you. a hand on your lower back when you’re walking through a crowded hallway, his knee bumping yours when you sit together, even a quick pat on your head after practice with a cheeky “good job, sunbae.” you tried to brush it off as just his love language—maybe he’s one of those people who thrive on physical contact. but every time his fingers lingered a second too long, you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your chest.

college fling!hoshi who accidentally wandered into the wrong studio one day, his excuse ready before anyone even questioned it. “oh, i just… wanted to try something new,” he said, grinning a little too wide as the teacher raised an eyebrow. the announcement had been clear: stiletto class was for the girls this time. yet here he was, standing awkwardly by the door, hands in his pockets, clearly lying through his teeth.

college fling!hoshi who got handed a pair of heels anyway, much to the amusement of the other girls. “you sure about this?” you teased, smirking as he slipped the shoes on. “i’ve got this,” he said confidently, taking one step—and immediately stumbling. the room erupted into laughter, and even the teacher had to hide a smile. “maybe sit this one out, hoshi,” she said gently, gesturing to the corner. cheeks flushed, he muttered a quiet “okay” and plopped down, his gaze finding you almost instantly.

college fling!hoshi who sat there pretending to be invested in everyone else’s routines, but his eyes were glued to you. the way you swayed your hips, the sharp arch of your back during the floorwork, the effortless way you spun in heels that would’ve broken his ankles. he tried to play it cool, leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t watching every move you made, but the heat rising to his cheeks gave him away.

college fling!hoshi who waited until class was over to approach you, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor as he caught up. “you’re insane in those,” he blurted, nodding toward your heels. “how do you even stay upright?” you smirked, twirling in front of him. “talent, hoshi. pure talent.” he rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “if that’s what talent looks like, I’m officially untalented.

college fling!hoshi who offered to carry your bag after class because, “you’ve been walking in those all day, and your feet probably hate you.” you let him take it, amused at how eager he seemed. “you’re really playing the gentleman card, huh?” you teased as he slung the bag over his shoulder. “what can I say? i’m trying to earn extra sunbae points,” he shot back, his grin so wide it made your cheeks warm.

college fling!hoshi who, despite his earlier embarrassment, started showing up more often during your stiletto classes. he always had some flimsy excuse—“just wanted to see if i’d get better at walking in them” or “i’m here for moral support!”—but you weren’t stupid. you caught the way his eyes followed you whenever you moved, the way he couldn’t hide his smirk when you executed a particularly complicated move.

college fling!hoshi who couldn’t resist bringing up the class later when you were grabbing beer together. “so, uh,” he started, stirring his drink unnecessarily, “do you always look that good in stilettos, or was today just special?” you nearly choked on your drink, glaring at him over the rim of your can. “bold of you to say after nearly eating shit in them.”

college fling!hoshi who always lingered by your door, shifting from foot to foot, his smile shy but hopeful. “you sure you’re good for the night?” he’d ask, every single time, like he was waiting for you to say no. one evening, you finally did. “actually, wanna come in?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe. his eyes lit up, and he followed you inside without a second thought, shrugging off his backpack like he’d been planning this for weeks.

college fling!hoshi who suddenly kissed like he’d been holding himself back since he had met you. his hands hesitant as they cupped your jaw, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. but once your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, something in him snapped. he kissed you deeper, hungrier, and you felt it in the way his breath hitched against your lips when you bit down gently on his bottom one.

“shit, y/n,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours. “you can’t just do that and expect me to stay sane.” you grinned, pulling him back in. “who said anything about staying sane?”

college fling!hoshi who couldn’t stop his hands from wandering once things got heated. his palms roamed over your thighs, your waist, and the curve of your ass, “you’re gonna kill me, sunbae.” but when your nails dragged down his back, his breath stuttered, and he let out a whiny moan that made your stomach twist. “keep doing that,” he said, his voice rough, “i’m begging you.”

college fling!hoshi who loved the way you teased him when he got impatient. “hoshi, you’re so easy,” you’d whisper, your lips brushing his ear. his grip on your hips would tighten, his jaw clenching as he growled, “say that again and see what happens.” and you did, because watching him lose control when you pushed his buttons was one of your favorite things.

“you’re a menace,” he muttered, pinning you to the mattress, but the smirk on his face said otherwise. “and you’re obsessed with me.” you shot back, gasping when his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck. “yeah,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your skin, “i am.”

college fling!hoshi who couldn’t get enough of the way you moved beneath him. his hands guided your hips to hump your clothed cunt on his erection like he was choreographing the moment. “just like that,” he breathed, his voice a rasp. when you rolled your hips against him as you two used only your underwears, his head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat.

college fling!hoshi who fell apart the first time you flipped him onto his back, straddling him with a naughty grin, he stared up at you like you were a dream.

college fling!hoshi who swore he could see stars when your mouth wrapped around him for the first time. “oh!—god—fuck!” he gasped, his head falling back against the pillows, fingers immediately tangling in your hair. he let out the prettiest sounds you’d ever heard. “y/n… holy shit. where did you learn to—” he cut himself off with a sharp moan when your tongue swirled around the tip, his hips bucking up before he caught himself.

“don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” you teased, pulling back for a second, your lips shiny and curved into a smirk. his breath hitched as you spit into your hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock. you started to pump slowly, your gaze locked on his face as you leaned back down to take him in your mouth again.

“fuck, fuck,” hoshi groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair, torn between pushing you closer and letting you set your own pace. his thighs were trembling, and you could feel him twitching in your mouth as you worked him over with a mix of your tongue and hand. “y/n, you’re… you’re gonna kill me” he choked out, his voice breaking on the last word.

you pulled back again, just enough to talk, your hand still stroking him. “you’re being dramatic,” you teased, your breath warm against his cock skin. his head snapped up, eyes wide and glassy. “dramatic? you call this dramatic?” he asked, gesturing wildly at his flushed face and the way he was visibly crumbling under your touch.

you laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his thigh before dragging your tongue along his length again.

college fling!hoshi could barely form words when you started to get messier with it, spit dripping down your hand and lips as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper. “shit, fuck, you’re so good at that,” he stammered, his voice breathy and high-pitched. his thighs flexed, and he gripped the sheets with one hand, the other still in your hair.

“gonna come, gonna come, I swear, I can’t—” he cut himself off with a broken whimper when your hand squeezed just right, your tongue flicking over the sensitive slit that made him see white. he was trying so hard to hold back, his abs tensing as his hips stuttered up into your mouth.

“you’re so loud,” you teased, pulling off with a pop to stroke him faster, your hand slick and warm. he groaned, throwing his head back, one hand slapping over his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle himself. “don’t you dare,” you scold hum. “i like hearing you.”

college fling!hoshi nearly lost it at your words, his hand dropping to his side as he let out a string of curses. “you’re insane,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he looked down at you. “you’re so fucking insane, and I’m—oh, fuck—”

when he finally came, it was with a high, drawn-out moan, his body trembling as he spilled into your mouth. he suddenly raises himself, because he knows that if he drowns too much in this orgasm, he wont have the forces to fuck you tonight. and he clearly have been waiting to fuck you.

college fling!hoshi who, the first time he pressed you into the mattress and slid inside, moved his hips in a way that made your head spin. his hips didn’t just thrust—they rolled, fluid and precise. he leaned down, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “feel how good i can make it?”

and fuck, you felt it. the way his body synced with yours, the slow grind that made you arch into him, chasing every ounce of friction he gave. you couldn’t form words, just moans and gasps that drove him further. “there you go,” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing, “just let me take care of you, princess, my pretty sunbae.” his tone was cocky, but his eyes were so nasty that it melted you into the sheets.

he knew exactly when to slow down, pulling out almost all the way before snapping his hips back in making you sob out loud. “there it is,” he groaned, watching the way your body reacted to him, the way your thighs quivered and your back arched. “you’re so sensitive here hm? can’t even handle a little rhythm.”

“shut your mouth!” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, but he just laughed, dipping his head to kiss you hard, stealing the rest of your breath. “you’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as his hips snapped against you.

your hands slid down his back, nails digging into the dip of his spine as you moaned his name, and that’s when you realized—he loved it. every time you lost control, and did it, he shivered, clearly. “you sound so good like this, keep saying my name, baby. i need to hear it.”

college fling!hoshi who couldn’t stop himself from showing off just a little—that way, he can try to make you addicted to it. he’d grab your hips, pulling you flush against him as he adjusted the angle, making you gasp as he hit just the sweet spot. “there.” he affirmed, “that’s it. you feel that?”

“hoshi, oh my god!” you whimpered, your hands fisting the sheets, and he grinned, clearly proud of himself. “yeah, you do,” he said, his tone cocky but still full of love. “god, you look so good like this. so fucking good.”

college fling!hoshi who, even when he was about to nut, always knew how to make it about you. his hips stuttered as he got closer, but he shifted, angling himself to hit the spot that made you see fireballs. “come on, baby,” he panted. “i need to feel you come. please, y/n, just let go for me.”

college fling!hoshi who couldn’t focus on anything for an entire week, replaying the memory of your face when you came like it was a highlight reel on loop. he’d be in the middle of stretching before class, staring at the floor, and suddenly your breathless moans would echo in his head. “nooo...” he muttered under his breath, quickly looking around to make sure no one noticed the way he adjusted his sweatpants.

college fling!hoshi who walked around campus like a man possessed, unable to concentrate on anything except you. the way your lips parted, the tremble in your thighs, the way you said his name like it was the only word you knew. he caught himself zoning out during a group project, the other guys snapping their fingers in his face. “you good, dude?” one of them asked, raising an eyebrow.

hoshi blinked, shaking his head like he could physically shove the memory away. “yeah, yeah, just—uh, tired,” he stammered, avoiding their eyes. tired? bullshit. he was absolutely whipped, and everyone around him knew it.

college fling!hoshi who would steal glances at you during class, his cheeks flushing when you met his eyes and smirked. you knew. of course, you knew. how could you not, when he was practically radiating “i’m thinking about fucking you” energy every time he looked at you?

“hoshi, focus,” you whispered, nudging his foot under the table. he cleared his throat, staring down at his notebook and scribbling nonsense, but his leg bounced under the desk. you leaned closer, your lips barely brushing his ear. “stop spacing out, or should i remind you how loud you were that night?”

his eyes widened, his whole face turning red as he choked on air. “y/n!” he hissed, his voice scandalized but barely above a whisper. you just grinned, leaning back like you hadn’t just ruined his entire day.

college fling!hoshi who started training harder, like he needed to burn off all the pent-up energy you left him with. but even then, mid-routine, his mind wandered to the way you’d clawed at his back, your nails leaving marks he’d stared at in the mirror for days.

“focus, hoshi!” the professor barked, clapping her hands. he startled, nearly tripping over his own feet. “yes, ma’am!” he stammered, bowing quickly. but as soon as practice ended, he was texting you.

[hoshi, 6:32 PM]: you’re insane, you know that? [y/n, 6:33 PM]: elaborate. [hoshi, 6:34 PM]: you know why.

college fling!hoshi who nearly combusted when you casually mentioned the night to him. “so… did you enjoy yourself?” you asked, your tone lightg, like you already knew the answer.

“enjoy myself?” he repeated, his voice going up an octave. “y/n, are you serious? i’ve been thinking about it every fucking day since then.”

you laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “good to know i left an impression.”

“an impression?” he groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “you ruined me. every time i close my eyes, i see you—” he stopped himself, his cheeks turning pink.

“see me what?”

“i’m not saying it,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands. “you’re evil.”

college fling!hoshi who couldn’t help himself during your next late-night practice. you were stretching, your body arching in a way that made his mouth go dry, and he just… lost it.

“y/n,” he called, his voice lower than usual. you turned, raising an eyebrow. “what’s up?”

“can we…” he hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “can we go back to your dorm?”

“hoshi, practice just started.”

“please,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “i need you.”

and when you finally caved, grabbing your bag and leading him out of the room, he was already planning to memorize everything all over again.

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sadandyetverysexy · 2 years ago

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Dp x Dc au: Normal is Good

Okay so hear me out— i see lots of “you can’t control Danny he’s a wild child” premises and like, I agree, I love that, but JUST hear me out. Danny who is just entranced by being treated like a NORMAL KID.

I think for best results this should be done with de-aged Danny so he’s a bit younger, but it can def work with regular Danny too.

Danny winds up running around Gotham for one reason or another doing INSANE SHIT to try and help or just survive and his family is out of the way. The explosion, Bad Fentons, etc— and one of the bats picks up Danny. This can be a dad!Jason, or dad!Dick, or classic Bruce Adoption. But they see this little shit running around and are like “no fucking way, not on my watch you little maniac”

Now, a lot of people use the “Jazz practically raised Danny” card, and I love that card and fully support it, but she was also a kid. With no other parents to consult. Who was raised by the Fentons originally and def has no clue what normal parents are like. So she probably didn’t exactly measure up to how a kid is MEANT to be raised. So Danny still had an incredibly strange childhood that just was Not Normal, but I feel like we see Danny with a deep desire to be normal. He doesn’t even really like being a superhero that much, he just wanted to be a kid.

So he gets bat adopted, and Danny is just functioning how he did growing up with the Fentons, which is No Restrictions Do What You Want. And then his bat dad (using Jason for this) is like “No. It’s Bed Time.” And Danny. Danny is ALL for that. He’s bewildered. Mystified. He’s not grumpy about being told what to do at ALL, because he’s just so shocked.

“You’re serious? You’re fucking dead-ass serious? It’s bed time? Oh my god this is so cool. I’ve never had a bed time before! This is great!” Because this is the first time he’s EVER been treated like a normal child by a parental figure. He just got sent to bed. Wow.

Having a parent who is in charge of keeping him healthy and actually enforces Danny taking care of himself is kind of cool.

“Eat your vegetables, they’re good for you.” And they won’t try to eat him back? Fuck yeah, he’ll eat his vegetables!

“No you aren’t allowed to go out at 2 in the morning, go back to bed, you have a doctors appointment for your yearly checkup tomorrow.” oh ancients, Danny has always heard other kids complain about not being allowed out at night, but to have himself told he can’t? This is so weird. And he’s never been to a yearly check up before!

“Brush your teeth before bed” “I can’t get cavities, I’m dead!” “Ya know, for some reason I don’t believe you. When was the last time you went to the dentist? Are you sure you can’t get them?” Danny has 7 cavities.

The first time Danny gets to actually use the “my dad said No” excuse, he is ECSTATIC. Jack and Maddie have LITERALLY never told him he can’t go out somewhere. Ever. He’s in a whole new world where he doesn’t have to fight ghosts, or be a hero, or anything and he loves it. He has a normal kids room without deadly weapons in it and normal kid hobbies and a fridge full of normal food and a parent who enforces a bed time, and it’s weird as hell and it’s great. Normal is pretty damn good, he has no clue what Sam and Tucker were always complaining about. Shits sweet.

#Danny is accidentally the best behaved child in Wayne Manor #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #danny phantom x dc #fic prompt

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pbaz7 · 8 days ago

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ONE SHOT: WHAT YOU HEARD

paige x azzi

warning: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 13k

A/N: Someone asked me to do a one shot based on Sonder What You Heard so this is my attempt at that. It was a little hard but I tried my best. This is also for all the whores who wanted a “bonus” scene from against the tide. It’s not post library but it’s something! Lmk what you think and leave live reacts 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

The locker room was nearly silent, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the space as Paige pushed the door open. She had just finished talking to Geno after practice, her mind still half in the conversation. But when her eyes landed on Azzi, sitting alone on the bench, her brow furrowed and her phone resting limply in her hand, she paused mid-step.

“What’s wrong Az?” Paige asked, her voice softer than usual.

Azzi didn’t look up immediately. Instead, she pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Nothing,” she muttered under her breath, but even that word cracked with doubt.

Paige leaned against the row of lockers, crossing her arms as a scoff escaped her lips. “Bullshit,” she said bluntly. Her eyes darted to the phone in Azzi’s hand. “He still hasn’t texted you back, has he?”

Azzi hesitated, her face tightening before she sighed. “He’s busy. You know how he is.”

“Busy my ass, Azzi,” Paige said, the irritation in her tone clear. “He’s on the football team, and they’re not even that good.”

Azzi’s head shot up, a glare in her eyes. “You just don’t like him,” she shot back defensively.

Paige didn’t flinch, didn’t even pretend to deny it. Instead, her expression stayed the same, and she shrugged. “You’re right I don’t like him. I sure as hell don’t respect him. He’s a bitch.”

Azzi let out a low groan, running a hand down her face. “Paige…”

“What?” Paige asked, pushing off the lockers and taking a step closer. “You don’t need me to tell you this again. You know it already. He treats you like a backup plan. Like you’re the one waiting in line for him to decide if he’s got time for you.” Her voice softened, but her frustration didn’t fade. “And that’s not who you are, Azzi.”

Azzi glanced at her phone again, her thumb hovering over the screen like she was willing a message to appear. “It’s not like that,” she muttered.

“Isn’t it?” Paige said. Her voice dropped, taking on an edge of exasperation. “Look, I’m not saying this because I want to hurt you when you’re already upset Az. I’m saying it because watching you settle for this shit—this dude who doesn’t even realize what he’s got—it drives me insane.”

Azzi’s hand clenched around her phone, but her gaze finally met Paige’s. There was a flicker of doubt there, a crack in the armor she always tried to keep up. “You don’t get it,” she whispered.

“No, Azzi,” Paige said, stepping closer now, her tone softer but no less certain. “I get it more than you do. I get that you’re in the wrong hands. That he doesn’t see you, not the way you deserve to be seen. And I don’t get how you don’t see it yet.”

Azzi opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. Paige tilted her head, her voice dropping into something almost tender. “You think this is normal? Waiting around for some guy who only shows up when it’s convenient for him? You don’t have to put up with that. You’re so much more than that.”

Azzi finally set her phone down on the bench beside her, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She sighed deeply, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not that easy, Paige.”

Paige crouched down in front of her, catching Azzi’s gaze. “I never said it would be easy,” she said quietly. “But I promise you—he’s not worth this.”

There was a heavy silence between them, and in that moment, Paige’s thoughts were louder than her words. But instead of saying anything, she just held Azzi’s gaze, hoping the truth in her eyes was enough to make Azzi finally listen to her.

Azzi’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a notification. She didn’t reach for it right away, her gaze flicking between Paige and the phone. Her fingers twitched like she was torn between two choices.

Finally, she spoke. “Why do you care so much?”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, one that sounded almost pained. “Why wouldn’t I pretty girl? I’m your best friend” she said as her eyes softened.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, tired smile, the tension in her face easing just slightly. “I love you,” she said, her tone light and easy, like she had said it a thousand times before. But the way she said it—it wasn’t what Paige wanted to hear. It wasn’t the kind of love Paige wished for, the kind that had been eating away at her for months now.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing herself to return the sentiment in kind. “I love you too,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest.

Azzi’s phone buzzed again, the sound cutting through the stillness of the locker room. This time, she glanced down at it, her thumb swiping across the screen. Whatever she saw on the display made her lips press into a tight line, her brows furrowing all over again.

Paige didn’t say a word. She just shook her head with a sigh. Turning away, she walked to her locker, her movements a little sharp but still measured, betraying none of the emotions churning beneath the surface.

The air in the room grew heavy again, but Paige didn’t look back. She didn’t trust herself to, not with the lump rising in her throat and the bitter taste of unspoken words lingering on her tongue.

…

Azzi’s legs rested comfortably across Paige’s lap as she leaned back against the headboard, scrolling through her phone. Paige sat against the wall, her notebook balanced on her thighs, though the words on the page had long since blurred into the background. Azzi held Paige’s right hand, her thumb lazily brushing over the back of it as if the touch was second nature.

Paige’s eyes flicked to their hands, a sly smile pulling at her lips. She tilted her head back against the wall, breaking the silence with a low, teasing tone. “You know, if you keep holding my hand like this, I might start thinking you’re trying to tell me something.”

Azzi glanced up, a soft laugh escaping her. “Oh, please. You’re the one who hasn’t let go.”

Paige smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Right. I’m sure I’m the clingy one here,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her gaze dropped to Azzi’s fingers still idly tracing patterns on her hand. “But hey, if this is your silent way of saying you like me better than the midget, I’m not gonna argue.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Paige shrugged, her free hand brushing lightly over Azzi’s thigh. “Maybe. But let’s be honest—you don’t let him do this, do you?” She tilted her head, her voice taking on an edge. “I mean, does he even know how to touch you like this?”

Azzi froze for a moment, her eyes darting to Paige’s face. “Paige…” she started, but her voice wavered, and Paige didn’t miss it.

Paige leaned in a little more, her smirk softening into something more deliberate. “What? Just saying. If he knew how to make you feel the way you deserve…” She paused, her voice dipping. “You wouldn’t be sitting here with me, holding my hand like it’s the only thing keeping you together.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip on Paige’s hand tightening slightly, though she didn’t respond. Paige could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the way her lips parted as if to argue but no words came out.

Paige’s heart raced, the heat in the room thickening as she decided to push just a little further. “You don’t have to say it out loud, Az,” she murmured, her tone quiet. “But deep down, you know. He could never—” Paige hesitated for just a beat, the words of the song she’d listen too all too much lately m echoing in her mind before she continued talking. Let me unleash my demons on you.

Azzi’s breath hitched, her phone slipping slightly in her hand as Paige’s meaning settled over her. She blinked, her gaze locked on Paige, curiosity and something deeper sparking in her eyes. “Paige…” she said again, softer this time, almost uncertain but it was the only word she could muster.

“What?” Paige asked, her voice softening as well but still laced with the same teasing edge. “You deserve someone who knows how to make you feel good. Someone who actually puts you first.” She leaned back against the wall, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I mean, you keep waiting around for him, hoping he’ll figure it out, but… what if you’re wasting your time?”

Azzi looked down at their hands, her thumb still brushing against Paige’s knuckles, though the motion was slower now. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she seemed frozen, caught between denial and the weight of Paige’s words.

Paige’s smirk returned, softer this time but no less confident. “All I’m saying is, if you ever want to find out what it’s like to be with someone who actually knows what they’re doing…” Her voice dropped lower, her words hanging in the charged air between them. “You know where to find me.”

Azzi’s lips parted to respond, but a knock at her door cut through the charged air. She let out a small sigh of relief, leaning her head back against the headboard. “Come in!” she called out.

The door opened to reveal her boyfriend, Cam, who strolled in with a casual air. Azzi gave him a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey,” she said softly, shifting slightly but not moving her legs from Paige’s lap.

Cam walked over and leaned down, giving Azzi a half-hug, his arm awkwardly draped around her shoulders. She barely moved, still holding Paige’s hand as she scrolled her thumb idly across her screen. Cam straightened, finally acknowledging Paige with a nod. “Wassup, Paige?” He put out his hand for a quick dap.

Paige barely glanced up from her notes, tilting her head up at him in acknowledgment but making no move to reciprocate the gesture. The air in the room thickened with unspoken tension, and Cam, clearly picking up on it, lowered his hand, chuckling awkwardly.

Paige had never been subtle about her disdain for him, and her icy reaction was no surprise to anyone in the room.

Trying to lighten the mood, Cam looked at their interlocked hands and cracked a grin. “Damn, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to steal my girl man.”

Paige’s head finally lifted, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across her lips. “If I wanted your girlfriend,” she said evenly, her voice dripping with confidence, “I would have her.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly, the heat rising up her neck. Her fingers instinctively tightened around Paige’s, though she quickly let go, tucking her hand into her lap.

Cam blinked, caught off guard by the boldness of her statement, his expression twisting into a mix of confusion and irritation. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, looking down at Azzi as if expecting her to defend him.

But before Azzi could say anything, Paige was already standing, sliding Azzi’s legs off her lap with an ease that felt almost dismissive. “Relax, Cameron it’s a joke,” Paige said, tapping his shoulder a little harshly, her smirk still firmly in place. She grabbed her notebook and bag, walking over to the other side of the bed.

She leaned down to hug Azzi, the embrace feeling much more intimate than it should have. Paige’s lips brushed dangerously close to Azzi’s neck as she whispered, her voice low, “I’ll catch you later, Az.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her body betraying her as her breath hitched slightly. Paige pulled back, straightening up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She turned toward the door, throwing one last glance at Cam, her smile lingering like a challenge.

“Bye, P,” Azzi murmured, her voice soft and uncertain.

“Later pretty girl,” Paige replied smoothly, not sparing Cam another glance as she walked out the door.

The room fell into an awkward silence, Cam still staring at the door as if trying to process what had just happened. Azzi shifted uncomfortably, her gaze fixed on the bed as she absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck, the ghost of Paige’s closeness still lingering.

Cam turned back to her, his tone sharp. “What the hell was that?”

Azzi blinked up at him, her voice calm but slightly irritated from their argument earlier. “What was what?”

Cam’s jaw tightened as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Azzi, don’t be stupid,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “She basically just said she could take you from me. You’re just gonna sit there like that didn’t happen?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, leaning back against the headboard with an exasperated sigh. “She was just messing with you, Cam. Relax.”

“Messing with me?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly. “You call that messing around? That wasn’t a joke. You two were—” He gestured toward where her legs had been draped over Paige’s lap. “That’s not normal, Azzi!”

Azzi sat up straighter, her irritation now matching his. “What do you mean it’s not normal? She’s my best friend. We’ve always been close like that.”

Cam scoffed, his disbelief evident. “Close? That wasn’t close. That was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Look, I’m not stupid. There’s something weird about the way she looks at you, the way she acts around you.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, her tone sharp. “You’re reading into things that aren’t there because you do shit you shouldn’t be doing.”

Cam let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “So you’re telling me she wouldn’t fuck you if you gave her the chance?”

The question surprised Azzi, and she froze for a split second, her body betraying her with a slight twitch of her fingers. Her mind betrayed her even more.

She shouldn’t have thought about it—she really shouldn’t have. But suddenly, Paige’s words from earlier echoed in her head, her low voice taunting Cam with that annoying ass confidence: If I wanted your girlfriend, I would have her.

A flash of memory followed. The way Paige’s lips hovered just a little too close to her neck when they hugged, the way her eyes lingered on Azzi’s mouth when she teased her about Cam. Let me unleash my demons on you. The words Paige had sung before played over in her mind, sending an involuntary shiver through her.

Azzi shook the thought off almost as quickly as it came, her chest tightening as she forced herself to look back at Cam. She smoothed her expression, keeping her tone flat. “She doesn’t want to fuck me, Cameron.”

Cam gave her a skeptical look, his jaw tightening. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty damn obvious.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the hem of her sweatshirt. “I’m sure,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

But as Cam stood there staring her down, Azzi couldn’t ignore the heat rising to her neck, the way her heart thudded just a little too loudly in her chest. Because the truth—the one she’d never admit out loud—was that Paige absolutely would, and Azzi couldn’t help but wonder for the briefest of moments what it might feel like if she let her.

…

Paige’s dorm room was dimly lit, the golden glow of her desk lamp casting a warm haze over the space. Azzi sat cross-legged on Paige’s bed, her fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her hoodie. Paige, seated at her desk, glanced up from her notes to steal a glance at Azzi, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since walking in.

“Alright, spit it out,” Paige said, setting her pen down and leaning back in her chair. “You’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes looking like someone just canceled Christmas. What happened?”

Azzi let out a sigh, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t give me that this time Az. What he said he was too busy to talk, or he forgot something important again?

Azzi sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s not always about him.”

“Yeah? Because nine times out of ten when you come in here lookin like that, it’s about him.”

Azzi stayed quiet, which was answer enough.

Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head as she spun her chair to face Azzi fully. “Rightt. Because he’s such a busy guy. Averaging 100 claps at practice right?”

“Stop,” Azzi said, her tone defensive, though there was no real anger behind it. “You don’t have to keep tearing him down.”

Paige shrugged, unbothered. “I wouldn’t have to if he gave me a reason to respect him.” She stood, crossing the small room in a few steps and leaning against the edge of her dresser. “But let’s be real, Az. You deserve better. And I don’t mean just slightly better—I mean way better.”

Azzi looked up at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. “Like who? You?”

Paige’s smirk was immediate, her confidence unwavering. “Yeah. Me.”

Azzi laughed softly, but there was a hint of nervousness in the sound. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige tilted her head, her eyes glinting with something. “Am I? Or am I just saying what I know you’ve already been thinking?”

Azzi’s lips parted, but no words came out. Paige took a step closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, her knee brushing against Azzi’s leg.

“Let’s be honest, Azzi,” Paige said, her voice dropping to a low, velvety tone. “He doesn’t see you. Not the way I do. He doesn’t know how to handle someone like you, with a life like yours, how to make you feel like the only person in the room.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her hoodie. “Paige—”

“I’m just saying,” Paige continued, leaning in slightly, her lips curving into a smirk. “If it were me, you wouldn’t have to ask for anything. You wouldn’t have to wonder if you mattered. I’d make sure you knew—every second of every day.”

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with something Azzi couldn’t just brush off.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Azzi whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

Paige’s smirk softened, but her intensity didn’t waver. She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I know exactly what I’m saying. You’re just in denial. I know he doesn’t touch you the way you deserve to be touched. Make you feel the way you deserve to feel. You’ve complained about it.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her breath hitching as she sat there at a loss of words.

“I’m serious,” Paige continue. “You haven’t thought about it? Even for a second? What it would be like if it were me instead of him?”

Azzi’s lips parted, and Paige caught the way her breath quickened ever so slightly. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” Azzi said, though the warning in her voice was faint at best.

Paige smirked, her confidence only growing. “Am I? Or are you just afraid of what I’m saying? What it means?” She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You want me to stop, tell me. But if you don’t, maybe it’s because part of you knows I’m right.”

Azzi’s heart was racing, her mind spinning. Paige’s words hung in the air, heavy and charged, pulling her in like a magnet.

Paige shifted closer, her voice dropping impossibly lower as she murmured, “I promise you I could make you forget he even exists, Az.”

Azzi’s breath hitched again, heat crawling up her neck. Paige’s gaze was locked on hers, unwavering, and for a split second, Azzi let herself imagine it—Paige’s hands on her skin, her lips tracing lines down her neck.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the bed as Paige leaned in even closer, their faces just inches apart now. Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing against Azzi’s lips. “You wouldn’t have to wonder if you mattered. I’d show you. Over, and over again.”

Azzi’s mind screamed at her to say something, to move, but she was frozen in place, her heart thundering in her chest.

The tension in the room was suffocating, the air thick with everything still unsaid by Azzi. Paige’s lips twitched into a smirk as she finally pulled back slightly, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “But hey, if you’re happy with him…” She let the words hang, leaving them unfinished, loaded with implication.

Azzi blinked, her throat dry as she whispered, “You’re out of your mind.”

Paige chuckled, not saying anything, just standing and grabbing her water bottle off the nightstand.

Azzi stared at her, her thoughts a tangled mess as Paige casually went back to her desk, acting like she hadn’t just turned Azzi’s world upside down.

…

The lively buzz of voices and clinking glasses at Ted's couldn't drown out the thoughts swirling around in Azzi’s head. They were all there in celebration of their Big East championship win, but all Azzi could focus on was Paige.

Azzi had been feeling a little off tonight, even though she tried to push the thoughts aside. Another game, another promise from Cam about being there, and once again, he hadn't shown. His absence barely gnawed at her, and she definitely wasn’t about to let it ruin her night—not when they were here celebrating.

Azzi’s gaze kept drifting to her. Paige was leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, her effortless confidence on full display. Two girls stood in front of her, talking animatedly, their hands gesturing as they laughed. Paige flashed them her signature smile, nodding along to whatever they were saying, though she didn’t seem particularly invested.

Azzi knew that smile too well. It was the same one Paige gave when she was humoring someone—not because she cared, but because she knew they liked the attention and it entertained her for a little bit. The thought made Azzi’s chest tighten, though she quickly brushed it off.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned toward Nika, who had just slid into the seat next to her. “Which one do you think she’s going to take home?” Azzi asked, nodding toward Paige and the girls.

Nika followed her gaze, then snorted. “Girl neither.”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “What do you mean, neither?

Nika turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “Paige has a type and it’s definitely not them.”

Azzi frowned, laughing a little. “Paige doesn’t really have a type. She kinda just... goes with the flow.”

Nika gave her a look. “You’re joking, right? Paige 1000% has a type.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Okay, what’s her type then?”

Nika gave Azzi a pointed look, leaning in a little closer. “Think about the last girl she brought back... or the two before that.”

Azzi stopped, her mind automatically working to pull up the memories. Paige never talked much about the girls she brought back, but Azzi had seen them. The thought lingered in her mind like a puzzle, the pieces slowly clicking together.

She could picture them now—the girls who had all been... similar. The way they had looked, the way they attempted to carry themselves—it was like there was a pattern. And now that Nika had pointed it out, Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just a coincidence.

She felt a knot form in her stomach, realizing that most of the girls Paige had been with recently looked... well, a lot like her.

Nika smirked, clearly enjoying Azzi’s reaction. “See what I mean?”

Azzi forced herself to laugh, though it sounded more nervous than amused. “So, you’re saying Paige has a type after all?”

Nika shrugged, her expression unreadable. “It’s not about type. It’s more so about what she wants.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked away, pretending to focus on something else. But the truth of Nika’s words lingered in her mind. Paige wasn’t just a flirty, carefree teammate. She was the one who made Azzi’s pulse race every time their eyes met. The one who made her question everything, including her feelings for Cam almost every other day.

She couldn’t stop herself from thinking it—what would it be like if it were me instead of them?

Nika, still watching her, smirked knowingly. “Look, if you want my advice, stop pretending. It’s obvious. You two have chemistry. You’ve got something that the midget could never give you.”

Azzi felt her stomach tighten at the thought of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice a little too sharp, but Nika wasn’t fooled.

Nika just shook her head. “Sure you don’t.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, Azzi trying to push those thoughts away, but they kept coming back. She couldn’t help it. The more she thought about Paige, the more she realized Nika was right.

Azzi risked another glance at Paige, who was still chatting with the girls at the bar. Paige caught her eye, a teasing smile forming that made Azzi’s heart stutter. Then, as if to drive the point home, Paige winked before turning her attention back to the girls in front of her.

Azzi’s face burned, and she immediately looked away, gripping her drink tighter than necessary.

As the night wore on, Nika’s observation proved true. Not long after their conversation, Paige casually excused herself from the girls she’d been chatting with and made her way back to the team’s table. She slid into the spot next to Azzi, her presence an unspoken reassurance that made Azzi’s chest feel lighter.

The bar was louder now, filled with the boisterous laughter and slurred voices of their teammates taking full advantage of the open bar. Azzi, feeling the warmth of a few drinks in her system, leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder as she sat there silently. She didn’t think much of it—it was comfortable, and no one else seemed to notice or care.

Paige, though, seemed to notice. She tilted her head, resting it gently on top of Azzi’s. Her voice was soft, laced with curiosity and something else Azzi couldn’t quite place. “What’re you thinking about?”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers idly tracing the condensation on her glass. She wasn’t sure if her response slipped out because she was tipsy, tired, or just tired of pretending. “You.”

Paige raised her eyebrows at that, letting out a short puff of air through her nose, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Me?” she echoed, her tone playful but intrigued.

Azzi’s voice was quiet but steady this time. “You.”

The air between them shifted, the background noise of the bar fading into static. Paige stayed where she was, her head still resting on Azzi’s. Her lips quirked up in the corner, but her voice was softer now, less teasing. “What about me?”

Azzi’s chest tightened, her fingers instinctively finding Paige’s hand, beginning to play with her fingers as she looked down at them. Her words were almost a whisper, like she was afraid to say them too loud. “I’m not telling you.”

Paige laughed. “Why not?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away, her thumb brushing over Paige’s knuckles. She felt Paige shift slightly, her head tilting just enough for her lips to hover near Azzi’s ear.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me?” Paige murmured, her voice carrying an edge of something that made Azzi’s stomach flip.

Azzi swallowed hard, her grip tightening on Paige’s hand. “Positive.”

Paige chuckled again. “You’re a bad liar, Azzi.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her heart pounding as she felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her skin. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the bar didn’t exist, like it was just the two of them, caught in this moment.

Azzi finally pulled back, just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. “Maybe,” she said, her voice just as soft but with a hint of defiance.

Paige smirked, her gaze dropping to Azzi’s lips for a brief second before flicking back up to her eyes. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop lying,” she said, her tone light but her eyes reflected something much heavier.

Paige stood up smoothly, her fingers brushing lightly over Azzi’s arm as she passed by. “I’ll be back,” she said casually.

Azzi watched her go, her gaze trailing Paige as she made her way back to the bar. Paige leaned against it like she owned the place, her posture effortless yet commanding, the kind of confidence that demanded attention without even trying. She had this way of carrying herself—loose, assured, magnetic. It wasn’t just the way she looked; it was the way she knew she looked, the way her presence seemed to pull focus without her having to lift a finger.

Azzi’s drink sat untouched in her hand, the cool condensation on the glass doing nothing to temper the sudden heat rushing through her. Her eyes lingered on Paige’s back, tracing the line of her shoulders down to the curve of her waist. Damn, she thought, her breath catching for reasons she didn’t want to admit.

The lyrics of the song playing overhead drifted into her consciousness, wrapping around her like the smoke hanging in the air. “Don’t tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts...” The words sank in, her mind betraying her as it painted a vivid picture of what that might mean with Paige.

It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered. Paige had always had this aura about her, a quiet intensity that felt equal parts dangerous and inviting. Azzi had caught herself thinking about it before—what it might be like to have Paige’s focus solely on her, to be on the receiving end of her. But tonight, something about the combination of liquor and the way Paige had been looking at her—smirking like she already knew every thought in Azzi’s head—made it impossible to shake.

She bit her lip, her gaze locked on the way Paige leaned forward to order another drink, her body language casual but so self-assured. Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she realized just how vivid her thoughts had become.

She’d be so fucking good in bed. The thought came unbidden but settled deep within her. Azzi closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Was it the alcohol? The fact that she hadn’t been touched in so long, hadn’t felt wanted in ways that mattered? Maybe it was both. Or maybe it was something else entirely—something about Paige that felt dangerously exciting yet safe at the same time.

Azzi’s mind filled with images she shouldn’t be entertaining—images of what it might be like to let Paige do whatever she wanted, to let her hands and lips erase everything else, to lose herself completely in whatever Paige had to offer.

Azzi shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the bar as if it would stop the thoughts swirling in her head. But even as she looked down at the table, she couldn’t shake the heat coursing through her stomach.

Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand as she took a long sip, hoping the burn of the liquor would distract her. But it didn’t. Instead, her eyes betrayed her once again, lifting to find Paige just as she turned back to glance at Azzi over her shoulder.

Paige smiled softly at Azzi, her gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary before she turned back to the bartender. Azzi’s chest tightened, a mixture of frustration and longing clawing its way through her.

She exhaled slowly, willing herself to get a grip. But deep down, she knew it was too late. Paige had gotten into her head, and for the first time, Azzi wasn’t sure if she wanted her out.

…

The booth was quieter now, the buzz of the bar fading into the background as the team’s conversations grew softer. Azzi and Paige leaned against the cushioned seat, their heads tilted toward one another. The dim lighting seemed to wrap around them, isolating them in their little corner despite the crowd still lingering around the bar.

Paige shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against Azzi’s. “So,” Paige said, her voice low and playful. “What’s running through that mysterious little head of yours?”

Azzi glanced at her, her lips curving into a smirk. “Mysterious, huh? That’s what you think of me?”

Paige’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Sure. You’re like… one of those locked diary types. Tryna be a total enigma. But, you know, if I had the key…”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smirk softening into a smile. “What would you even do with it?”

Paige tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I don’t know. Depends on what I find. Deep, dark secrets? A crush on a teammate, maybe?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stayed leaning back against the booth. “A crush on a teammate? You sound awfully confident for someone who’s never even seen me blush.”

Paige laughed softly, the sound sending a little ripple of warmth through Azzi’s chest. “I’m calling bullshit on that one.”

Azzi shook her head, her smile lingering as she watched Paige. “You’re a little annoying, you know that?”

Paige shrugged, her expression unbothered. “Yeah, but I’m charming. Makes up for it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, but there was no hiding the way her smile grew just a little wider. Paige had this way of getting under her skin, making her feel both flustered and strangely comfortable all at once. It was maddening and addictive, and Azzi wasn’t sure which one of those things scared her more.

Paige turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Azzi with a curious look. “You know,” she said, her tone softer now, “you’ve been really quiet tonight.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the show. You seem to be entertaining enough for the both of us.”

Paige grinned at that, her eyes sparkling. “I do aim to please,” she said, leaning a little closer. “But seriously, what’s up? You’ve got that faraway look.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before exhaling softly, her gaze dropping to the table. “Just… thinking,” she said finally.

Paige tilted her head, studying her. “About what?”

Azzi looked back at her, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

Paige smirked. “Not a chance.”

Azzi hesitated again, the words sitting on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she said, “Nika pointed something out tonight.”

Paige’s eyebrows lifted, her smirk softening into a curious smile. “This ought to be good. What did our resident truth-teller have to say?”

Azzi smirked, feeling a flicker of amusement despite herself. “She said… you have a type.”

Paige raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued. “Oh yeah? And what’s my type Azzi?”

Azzi shrugged, trying to keep her tone light. “At first, I didn’t think she was right. But then I thought about it.”

Paige leaned back, her arm stretching across the back of the booth as her eyes danced with curiosity. “And?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before meeting Paige’s gaze again. “They all look like me.”

Azzi expected Paige to laugh it off, to make some joke and move on, but instead, Paige’s smile softened, her eyes darkening as she tilted her head slightly towards Azzi a little more.

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice low and steady. “I can see that.”

Azzi blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the honesty in Paige’s tone. Her pulse quickened as she leaned in just slightly, her voice barely audible now. “Why?”

Paige’s gaze didn’t waver, her eyes searching Azzi’s as she answered. “Because I can’t have you.”

Azzi’s breath caught, her chest tightening at the weight of those words. She wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure if she could even think straight with the way Paige was looking at her—as if she was the only person in the room. Their heads were still leaned back against the booth, but now their faces were so close, their whispers carrying the kind of intimacy that felt like it could shatter the air around them.

“How long?” Azzi asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile moment between them.

Paige’s lips curved into a soft, almost wistful smile, her eyes flickering to Azzi’s lips before returning to her gaze. “A long time.”

The simplicity of the answer hit Azzi harder than she expected, the honesty in Paige’s tone wrapping around her like a tether. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding in a way that left her dizzy.

For a moment, it felt like the air between them thickened, every noise and movement around them fading into the background. They weren’t in a crowded bar anymore; it was just the two of them, locked in a bubble of their own.

Azzi’s eyes searched Paige’s as if trying to confirm what she already knew. Paige tightened her jaw, a familiar motion Azzi had come to recognize—the telltale sign that Paige was reining herself in, trying to keep control. But this time, Paige didn’t pull away.

Neither of them spoke. Their eyes flicked back and forth—Paige’s gaze dropping to Azzi’s lips, Azzi’s locked on Paige’s mouth like it was the only thing in the world she could see.

Paige exhaled slowly, her breath brushing Azzi’s lips as they both leaned in, so agonizingly slow it felt like an eternity before they were close enough to taste the tension. Azzi could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, and judging by the slight tremble in Paige’s exhale, she wasn’t the only one.

Finally, Azzi moved, closing the unbearable gap between them. Her lips met Paige’s in a tentative kiss, soft and warm, sweetened by the lingering hint of alcohol from the cocktails they’d been sipping all night.

It was messy at first—the angle awkward as they leaned against the back of the booth—but neither of them cared. The kiss quickly shifted, deepened as if they were both making up for all the time they’d spent pretending this moment wasn’t inevitable.

Paige’s hand moved instinctively, sliding up to cup Azzi’s jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against her skin. Azzi’s breath hitched again as Paige’s lips parted slightly, her tongue swiping gently under Azzi’s bottom lip. The unspoken question was clear, and Azzi answered immediately, her lips parting to let Paige in.

Their tongues met, the kiss turning needier. Azzi felt like she was drowning, her fingers gripping Paige’s thigh under the table to anchor herself. Paige shifted closer, her hand now tangled in Azzi’s curls as if she couldn’t stand to keep any distance between them.

Unknowingly to them, the few teammates who’d been sitting in front of them at the table exchanged wide-eyed glances before quietly walking away, sensing that whatever was happening here was private, and very much overdue.

Neither Paige nor Azzi noticed—or cared. They were too far gone, lost in the heat of the moment.

But as the kiss stretched on, neither of them showing interest in stopping any time soon, other patrons started to glance in their direction.

That’s when Nika swooped in, a balled-up napkin in her hand. She hurled it at them, hitting Paige square in the shoulder. “Go home,” Nika said, her tone dry but carrying the teasing edge of a friend who’d had enough.

Startled, Paige and Azzi finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, their lips swollen and their cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Paige didn’t even glance at Nika. Her gaze remained fixed on Azzi, a world of unspoken desire and promise swirling in her eyes.

Azzi, however, chuckled softly at Nika’s words, a hint of nervousness in her breathless laugh, but mostly amusement. “Come on,” Azzi said as she reached for Paige’s hand under the table.

Paige blinked, slightly caught off guard by Azzi’s reaction. She had half-expected her to pull away, to get awkward or retreat into herself. But there was none of that. Azzi’s calm confidence was almost intoxicating, and it left Paige momentarily speechless.

Without saying a word, Paige slid out of the booth, her hand still in Azzi’s as they weaved their way through the bar.

…

As they stepped into Paige’s room, the tension from the bar followed them. Paige, unsure of where Azzi’s head was at, chose not to make a move right away. She quietly walked over to the bed, sitting down and leaning back against her hands. Her posture was casual, but her heart was racing, her mind buzzing with everything that transpired.

Azzi, however, didn’t hesitate. The soft click of the door locking behind her sent a jolt through Paige’s body. She looked up, her lips parting slightly to say something, but the words never came. Azzi was already crossing the room.

Before Paige could process what was happening, Azzi’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back against the mattress with a gentle motion. Paige let her body sink into the bed as Azzi climbed on top of her, straddling her hips.

The kiss that followed was nothing short of amazing. Azzi’s lips met Paige’s in a heated, almost desperate clash, all hesitation or restraint burned away in the heat that had been building between them for so long.

Paige responded instantly, her hands sliding down Azzi’s sides before gripping her ass, squeezing hard as she pulled Azzi even closer. The action earned her a soft, breathy moan from Azzi, who deepened the kiss in response.

Their movements were messy but urgent, a mixture of tongues and teeth as they explored each other. Azzi’s hands slid up, threading through Paige’s hair, tugging slightly to tilt her head back and change the angle of their kiss. Paige groaned into her mouth, the sound sending a shiver through Azzi’s body.

The room was quiet except for the sound of their lips moving together and the occasional ragged breath they managed to catch between kisses. Every touch, every shift of their bodies was fueled by months of pent-up tension finally being released.

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to hover above Paige, her breath ghosting against her lips. Her dark eyes searched Paige’s, as if looking for reassurance, for confirmation that this wasn’t just the alcohol or the heat of the moment.

As if Paige could read her mind, she gave a soft smile, her hands settling on Azzi’s waist as she gently flipped them over. Now leaning over Azzi, Paige’s voice was a low murmur, soothing yet confident. “Stop overthinking it,” she said, her lips curving into that teasing smirk Azzi found so intoxicating. “I got you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her tension melting away as her hands moved up to frame Paige’s face. Her fingers slid along Paige’s jaw, interlacing behind her neck to hold her close. She pulled Paige down for another kiss, this one slower, more tender.

Paige took her time, letting the kiss linger and deepen naturally. Their lips moved in perfect rhythm, tongues occasionally brushing, sending little jolts of electricity through them both each time. There was no urgency now, just a shared intimacy as they both got lost in the moment.

The kiss stretched on, five minutes of bliss that felt like an eternity and yet not nearly enough. Neither of them wanted to break away, but when Paige finally leaned back slightly, it wasn’t to stop. Her hands went to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of her body.

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she was quick to follow, slipping her shirt off almost as if on instinct. Her hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, but before she could undo the button, Paige’s hand gently covered hers, stopping her.

“You don’t gotta rush, baby,” Paige murmured, her voice low and reassuring as her thumb stroked Azzi’s knuckles. “I got it.”

Those words sent a warmth pooling in Azzi’s chest—and lower—that she hadn’t expected. She was so used to rushing into things, to moving fast and skipping the buildup. But this...this was different. Paige wasn’t just touching her body; she was touching a part of Azzi that had been craving more than just physical connection.

Azzi let her hands fall away, her body relaxing beneath Paige as she gave a small, almost shy nod. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Paige smiled at her, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth, then another along her jaw, taking her time like she promised. “Just let me take care of you,” Paige whispered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin as her hands began to explore.

Paige began placing open mouth kisses against Azzi’s neck making sure she drew each of them out. Every touch felt like a spark, igniting feelings in Azzi, leaving a trail of heat that made her pulse quicken. Paige’s hands we warm and gentle, as the roamed over Azzi’s body, her fingertips tracing the curves of her body, sending shivers down Azzi’s back with every brush.

Azzi’s breath came in ragged gasps, her chest starting to rise and fall quicker, a subtle tremor working through her as Paige continued moving lower. The new sensation was intoxicating for Azzi, as if Paige was slowly unraveling her, piece by piece.

Azzi’s hands gripped the sheets, her fingers curling into the fabric as soft sounds escaped her lips–a breathless, needy whisper that slipped out before she could even process it. “Paige…”

The sound of her name rolling off of Azzi’s lips, sent a warmth through Paige. She pulled back slightly to look at Azzi and take her in for a second. Her brown eyes were dark with desire, her face flushed, lips slightly parted.

Paige lowered herself again as she placed soft kisses against Azzi’s chest, slipping her hand behind the girl to undo her bra and toss it to the side.

Azzi’s breath hitched as she swallowed the sounds threatening to escape her as Paige explored her chest before moving down further leaving sloppy kisses all over Azzi’s abdomen.

Azzi let out a soft, frustrated groan, her body aching from the slow build-up of desire. Paige was taking her sweet time, drawing out every kiss, every touch, and Azzi felt like she was about to explode and Paifge hadn’t even done anything yet. So she tried to move, to push Paige further down her body, but the moment her hands slipped from the sheet’s, Paige was there grabbing both of her wrist and pinning them firmly to her sides.

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sudden restraint, a jolt of heat coursing between her legs as she looked down at Paige, eyes wide with longing. Paige's gaze was dark and filled with an almost cruel amusement.

“You need to be patient,” Paige whispered, her voice low, a teasing smile forming.

Azzi’s chest tightened, and she swallowed her throat all of a sudden feeling dry. She wasn’t used to this kind of anticipation, this slow burn that made every nerve in her body feel like it was on fire. She could feel herself restraint slipping with every second, her body practically beginning for more.

“I can’t,” Azzi admitted, her voice breathless. Her hands clenched against the sheet’s under Paige’s hold and her hips shifted restlessly. She needed more. Needed Paige to ease the ache that was building. “Please…”

The word slipped from her lips, barely above a whisper.

Paige’s smile only grew, her eyes a mixture of amusement and desire for the girl under her. “Move your hands again,” she said softly, “and I’m starting over.”

Azzi’s body tensed at the words, more heat rushing between her legs as she let out a soft frustrated groan as she swallowed hard. Her heart raced, the pulse between her legs only intensifying at the threat. She wanted to beg. To pull Paige closer but she couldn’t handle more waiting so she kept her mouth shut.

Her back arched as Paige leaned down, placing an open mouth kisses to Azzi’s hip sending a shock of heath through Azzi’s body. Azzi moaned softly, her hands instinctively trying to grab at Paige, but Paige kept her pinned.

Azzi’s breath hitched again as Paige sucked a little harshly now and her body bucked, trying to push herself into Paige. Paige just smiled, her mouth hovering close to the waistband of Azzi’s pants. Azzi’s chest heaved as she struggled against the growing frustration, her voice a desperate whisper.

“Please, Paige…” Azzi’s voice cracked, barely audible, but clearly heavy with need.

Paige looked up at her through half-lidded eyes, and Azzi saw how dark her blue eyes looked, the control that she was exercising with every kiss. Paige sucked against Azzi’s v-line as she looked at her, causing Azzi to bite her lip hard as she arched into Paige again.

Paige chuckled at this. “Mmm ok I got you baby,” she murmured against Azzi’s skin. Paige undid Azzi’s pants button before pulling them down, slowly kissing down Azzi’s legs as she did it.

Azzi’s whole body trembled, a soft moan escaping her throat. She swallowed thickly, leaning her head back against the pillow closing her eyes as she tried to steady her breath. She could already feel how embarrassingly fast she was going to come undone for Paige.

As soon as Paige’s tongue swiped across Azzi’s center, she let out a breathles murmur, her body trembling at the feeling already. Her words came out in a jumble, soft and incoherent, as the heat radiating off of Paige made her lose any coherent thought.

Paige chuckled softly, her lips curling into a slight smile as she repeated the motion, this time slower, letting her tongue glide across Azzi with more pressure. Azzi’s pulse spiked and her hands instinctively gripped Paige’s hair pushing her further into her, as a soft, needy whisper spilled from her lips.

“That feels so good,” Azzi breathed, barely managing to form words.

Paige mumbled again as she continued her movements, a teasing note in her voice as she said, “I know baby. I been tryna tell you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes internally at Paige’s smugness, the need to argue rising. But before she could voice her frustration, Paige’s mouth found her sensitive spot, sucking softly and Azzi’s words caught in her throat. Her body arching involuntarily as her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed.

As Paige continued to move her tongue against Azzi, the teasing pressure of her lips and tongue driving Azzi wild. She was trembling beneath her, breathless, every inch of her skin tingling with sensation. Unable to ocntain herself, Azzi whispered her name again, the sound escaping before she could think about it.

“Fuck Paige…”

Paige didn’t stop. She only hummed softly in her response, “Hmm?”

Azzi’s body arched involuntarily at the vibration, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair as she tried to steady herself. “I’ve never fucking felt this before,” she admitted, the words showing her desperation. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could swear she heard it echoing in her ears.

Paige’s response was a soft knowing murmur against Azzi. “Mhmm…” She didn’t slow down. If anything her movements became more deliberate, more intense as Azzi’s grip on her hair tightened.

The pressure in Azzi’s stomach was building, a tension that only seemed to grow stronger with every brush of Paige’s lips against her. Unable to hold still, Azzi shifted beneath her, her hips moving to instinctively close the nonexistent space between them, to feel Paige lips more fully.

At this Paige pushed firmply against Azzi’s stomach. The pressure heightening the tension in Azzi’s core, a wave of heat sweeping through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, a soft, strangled sound escaping her throat as the intensity of it threatened to overwhelm her. She was choking on her own breath, unable to keep up with the pleasure that was flooding her senses.

Every inch of her was on fire, the tension in her stomach so tight so tight, it felt like she needed to stop. Azzi’s breath came in ragged gasps, each sound leaving her throat a little more choked, a little more desperate.

She had no control left and before she realizes what’s happening her entire back arches upward toward Paige who's still pushing down on her stomach as her tongue continues working. Azzi’s entire body is trembling as she screams out, “Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes...I’m coming Paige.”

Paige winces slightly at how hard Azzi pulls her hair as she slows her movements, letting Azzi ride out what seems to be a new feeling for her.

When she’s done, Paige slowly kisses her way up Azzi’s body.

Azzi lay back against the soft sheets, her body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Her breath came in uneven gasps as her eyes slowly fluttered open, gazing at Paige. The room seemed to hum with a quiet, lingering energy that made her chest tighten in both awe and disbelief. She had never felt anything like this before. Never had she been completely undone by someone like she had just been by Paige.

She wiped her thumb across Paige’s chin as Paige leaned down, her lips capturing Azzi’s in a slow, lingering kiss. The kiss was messy as Paige let Azzi taste everything before she pulled away.

Azzi smiled up at her still tasting the remnants of the kiss, the sweetness of her and the alcohol mixed together, and it sent a shiver of disbelief down her spine.

“I’ve never…” Azzi started, her voice hoarse as she looked up at Paige, who was now standing. Her gaze was focused, but Azzi’s eyes were still wide, her chest tightening at the thought. “I didn’t think I could… feel like that.”

"You should know by now, Azzi," Paige said, her voice low and laced with that intoxicating confidence, "I don’t do things halfway."

Azzi’s stomach fluttered at the sound of those words, the teasing yet assured tone leaving her breathless. She watched as Paige moved toward her closet, the subtle grace in her movements sending a spark of anticipation coursing through Azzi’s veins. Paige seemed to move with intention. As she stood there, just inside the closet, Azzi could see her reaching for something—a small box she’d pulled down from a shelf.

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige slowly made her way back toward the bed, unboxing what was inside. Azzi’s stomach tightened, a shiver running through her body as she caught sight of the unfamiliar object. There was something about it that made her heart race, her mind whirring with a mixture of curiosity and nervous excitement. She had no idea what to expect, but the thought of it was enough to make her pulse quicken.

Paige reached the bed, standing over Azzi, her eyes filled with that same daring glint that made Azzi's own breath catch. She didn’t say a word at first, just looked at Azzi—her gaze steady, almost searching.

"Can I keep going?" Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi felt the question hit her like a wave, her pulse accelerating as she met Paige’s gaze. She didn’t even hesitate. She nodded quickly, almost too eagerly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, the sound low and almost fond, as she looked at Azzi’s reaction.

Paige takes off the rest of her clothes, adjusting the harness against herself methodically as Azzi watches, never breaking her eyes away from Paige.

Paige settled onto the bed, hovering above Azzi, her body close but not quite touching, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s heart was hammering in her chest as she watched Paige, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. For a moment, everything seemed to pause—the room, the world outside, and even the way Paige was looking at her. Paige’s eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too, something gentle, almost questioning, as if she was waiting for Azzi to decide where this would go.

But Azzi didn’t want to wait anymore.

Before Paige could make another move, Azzi surprised her, gently pushing her back to sit against the headboard. The action was smooth, calculated, and surprisingly assertive for Azzi, who had always been the more reserved one between them. The boldness of it made Paige's pulse race, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she looked at Azzi, her brow furrowing, a subtle question hanging in the air.

“Are you sure?” Paige’s voice was soft, laced with concern, but her eyes were full of something else—something that made Azzi’s stomach flip.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She gave a slow nod, her gaze never leaving Paige’s. Her hand reached out, pulling Paige closer, guiding her into a kiss that was both tender and urgent. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a kiss that conveyed everything Azzi had been feeling. As their lips met, Azzi could feel the heat of Paige's body so close to hers, their breaths mingling in the soft air between them.

Azzi’s hips began to move against the strap, a slow grind that had Paige’s breath catching in her throat as she listened to Azzi’s breathing pick up again.

Paige pulled back, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she gazed into her eyes, searching for something.

“Are you sure?” Paige’s voice was hushed, almost a whisper, as she placed a hand on Azzi’s hip, steadying her gently. The question wasn’t one of doubt—Paige knew Azzi could make her own decisions. It was a question wrapped in care, a need for reassurance in the midst of the raw energy between them.

Azzi blinked, her heart racing, her breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. All she felt was certainty—a certainty that she wanted this, wanted her, and nothing else mattered. With a soft laugh, one that held a trace of disbelief and excitement, Azzi leaned forward, pressing her lips to Paige’s in a quick, teasing kiss.

“Yes, baby,” she murmured, her words almost playful but filled with undeniable sincerity. “I’m sure.”

Paige smiles softly at Azzi as she adjusts the strap, the tip of it pressing against Azzi who bites her lip at the feeling.

Azzi lowers herself further down, Paige’s hand steady on her hips as she eases her into it slowly.

Paige's voice dropped to a low whisper as she leaned in closer, her breath brushing against Azzi’s ear as she kissed her neck a few times. "Can you take all of it, baby?" she asked, the words laced with a gentleness but a teasing edge.

At Paige's words, Azzi's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling quickly as she nodded, her response breathy and full of anticipation.

With this confirmation Paige pulls Azzi down further making a loud gasp escape her lips as her eyes roll back. Paige slightly groans as it presses against her.

After adjusting, Azzi slowly starts circling her hips, her hands interlocking with Paige’s that were holding her waist as she looks down at the blonde who’s watching her in admiration. Azzi can’t help but moan as she moves against it, feeling it in her stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Azzi whispers, her eyes still shut in ecstasy as she now braces herself with her hands on Paige’s shoulders. Paige is leaning against the headboard watching Azzi with low eyes, breathy sounds escaping her as every movement Azzi makes presses against her harder.

Paige licks her lips looking up at Azzi whispering “You look so good riding it baby.”

Azzi chuckled softly at Paige’s words, a playful, almost teasing sound leaving her lips as she brushed her hair to one side, her eyes never leaving Paige as she did.

Paige groans at the sight using her hands to move Azzi further up the strap before bringing her back down a couple of times.

Azzi gasps at this, “Fuck Paige.”

“I know…I feel it too baby,” Paige whispers her voice hoarse as she feels herself getting closer.

The room was heavy with the sound of their breath as they lost themselves in the moment for a few minutes. Never breaking eye contact as they savored the moment.

But the air started to fill with a thick desire as Azzi’s movements quickened, her hips pressing against Paige in a rhythm that made both of them moan in each other's mouths. But then, breaking through the haze of their passion, the sound of Azzi’s phone buzzing on the dresser cut through the silence, the ringtone sharp and jarring.

At first, neither of them acknowledged it, too wrapped up in one another, but then it buzzed again and again. Paige glanced over at the screen, catching the name Cam flashing brightly across it. She tensed for a moment, wondering if Azzi would pull away to answer, but instead, Azzi didn’t skip a beat. Her movements didn’t falter as she kept her steady rhythm, eyes still locked with Paige’s, filled with a focused intensity that made Paige’s heart race.

With a low, breathy laugh, Azzi reached over, her hand brushing against the dresser a few times until her fingers wrapped around the phone. She didn’t hesitate for a second, holding down the power button with a steady hand before swiping her finger across the screen to turn it off completely. The phone fell back onto the dresser with a soft thud, and Azzi didn’t miss a beat, her body leaning into Paige again, pushing her hips against Paige’s with a renewed urgency, as if the phone had never been there at all.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, a low, amused sound escaping her.

Azzi ka basically bouncing against Paige now, gripping her shoulders for dear life as she crys out “Oh fuck..”

Paige is struggling to not come undone before Azzi finishes, her head laid back against the headboard, her eyes low as she watches Azzi on top of her. Azzi notices this so she leans back to give Paige a better view resting her hands on the mattress as she continues moving it in and out of her.

Paige whimpers out at she takes in the sight, “Fuck I can feel everything Az, you feel so good…”

Azzi is gasping now as their eyes lock on one another neither one of them look away as they get lost in the feeling.

Paige adjusts herself slightly so she’s hitting Azzi at a new angle that makes her gasp loudly mumbling, “Mhm you feel so good baby.”

“You like how I feel?” Paige asks, her voice barely containing the whine she tried to hold in.

Azzi nods quickly as she quickens the pace muttering out “I fucking love how you feel”

As Paige threw her head back, a soft gasp escaping her lips, Azzi looked down at her with a look of intense focus, her breath shallow as she searched Paige's expression. "You close?" she asked, her voice a low, almost teasing whisper.

Paige, eyes heavy with desire, could only nod in response, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed up at Azzi through half-lidded eyes. Her body was already trembling with the buildup, every nerve alight from the touch.

Azzi’s lips curled into a faint smirk, her gaze flickering from Paige’s eyes to her lips before she leaned down and pressed herself further into her, pulling her into a kiss. The kiss was deep and consuming, their bodies tightening against one another as Azzi pulled Paige closer.

The kiss didn’t last long Paige pulling back mumbling, “Fuck just like that Az…ride it just like that.”

At Paige’s praise, something snapped inside Azzi–a sudden rush of need flooding her system. Without warning, she pushed down harder, the feeling of Paige beneath her driving her wild. Her legs began to tremble, every muscle taut. Desperate sounds–moans, gasps–tumbled from her lips, raw and completely untamed

“Oh my god,” Azzi moaned, the words barely audible as they’re choked out through her shallow breaths. The pressure in her stomach snapped as she came undone all over Paige’s legs.

Paige immediately groaned in response, her grip on Azzi tightening as she pulled her deeper into her before she was coming undone too, muttering out Azzi’s name as she did so.

The kiss that followed was anything but gentle. It was messy and uncoordinated as they melted into one another desperately. Paige’s mouth was rough against Azzi’ as their tongues tangled with one another. Azzi’s body moved faster, legs shaking still as they both came undone again in less than a few seconds.

Azzi slumped against Paige, her forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder as she caught her breath, their slick bodies tangled together. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing and the soft chuckles that escaped both of them, the aftermath of what had just unfolded between them settling in.

Feeling extremely sensitive, Azzi eased herself off of the toy before settling back on Paige’s lap in a more comfortable position. Her arms loosely wrapped around Paige’s neck as she let out a breathless laugh, her voice still tinged with disbelief. “Oh my god,” she said, laughing again, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Paige tilted her head back against the headboard, her own laugh low and satisfied. “Told you,” she murmured, a teasing grin spreading across her face as she glanced at Azzi through hooded eyes.

Azzi let out a small, exasperated laugh, weakly pushing Paige’s shoulder, though it lacked any real force. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her smile gave her away. Her energy was spent, her limbs felt like jelly, and all she could do was lean against Paige, shaking her head slightly as the last remnants of laughter faded between them. Paige’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they sat there, wrapped in the comfortable silence of their shared intimacy.

The two of them just sat there, holding onto one another, the room quiet and filled with a warm, lingering intimacy.

Eventually, Azzi sighed softly, shifting to climb off Paige’s lap completely, her legs shaky but steady enough to settle beside her. Paige gave her a small smirk as she undid the harness, tossing it casually onto the floor before standing and disappearing into the bathroom.

Azzi watched her go, her body still humming from everything. When Paige returned, she held a towel in her hand, the edges slightly damp from warm water. Without saying a word, she knelt down in front of Azzi, her expression soft but focused.

Paige gently lifted one of Azzi’s legs, holding her ankle as she began to wipe the towel along her skin, carefully. The warmth of the cloth combined with Paige’s touch sent a shiver through Azzi. She blinked, her gaze locking on Paige as her chest swelled with something she couldn’t quite put into words.

Azzi stared down at her, her eyes wide and filled with awe. “You don’t have to—” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige glanced up at her, a soft smile curving her lips as she shook her head. “Yes I do,” she said simply, her voice low.

The tenderness in Paige’s actions, the quiet care she was showing, made Azzi’s heart thrum in her chest. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Paige’s cheek as she watched her, completely enamored by the girl in front of her. Paige didn’t look up again, too focused on making sure Azzi was comfortable and taken care of, but the slight curve of her lips gave her away.

Once Paige finished, she set the towel aside and climbed back onto the bed. She leaned back against the pillows, extending an arm toward Azzi in invitation. Azzi didn’t hesitate, curling into Paige’s side, her head resting on her chest as she let out a contented sigh.

Paige tugged the blanket over both of them, the soft fabric cocooning their still-warm bodies. The room settled into a peaceful quiet, save for the sound of their steady breaths syncing together.

Azzi's hand absentmindedly traced light patterns along Paige’s stomach, her mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep but laced with humor.

Paige chuckled softly, pressing her lips to the top of Azzi’s head. “And you’re trouble,” she replied.

Azzi let out a small laugh but didn’t respond, her breathing already slowing as sleep began to claim her. Paige’s hand rested on Azzi’s back, her thumb gently moving in soothing circles.

As they drifted off, the weight of the night melted away, leaving nothing but the comfort of each other’s presence

…

The next morning, Paige was already up when Azzi’s eyes fluttered open. The faint smell of coffee and something warm and buttery filled the air, coaxing her out of sleep. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains, and when she turned her head, she found Paige standing at the side of the bed with a tray of food in her hands, her expression warm and slightly smug.

“Good morning,” Paige said. “Figured I owed you breakfast after last night.”

Azzi couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Her chest swelled with affection as she took in the sight of Paige, still a little rumpled from sleep, but thoughtful as ever. She reached out, grabbing Paige by the wrist and tugging her down into a soft kiss. “You’re making it impossible not to adore you already,” Azzi murmured against her lips.

Paige chuckled as she pulled back, setting the tray on the bed. “Careful. You’re gonna give me a big head.”

Azzi laughed softly, sitting up and stretching before settling in beside Paige to eat.

When they finished, Azzi leaned over to grab her phone from the nightstand. She hesitated for a moment before turning it on, the screen immediately lighting up with a flood of notifications. Texts, missed calls, social media alerts—it was all there.

Azzi’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t bother looking at most of them. Instead, she tapped on Cam’s name, typing out a quick message: Can you meet me in my room?

The reply came back almost instantly, which was rare: Yeah, of course.

Azzi stared at the screen for a moment, then set the phone down, letting out a quiet sigh. Paige, who had been watching her from the corner of her eye, reached out to place a reassuring hand on Azzi’s thigh. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said with a small smile, though her tone was thoughtful. “Just need to talk to Cam.”

Paige nodded, leaning back on her hands. “You want me to stick around or go with you?”

Azzi glanced at her, the warmth in her gaze unmistakable. “You can come with me,” she said softly. “If you want.”

Paige smiled, leaning over to kiss Azzi on the temple. “I got you.”

Azzi and Paige made their way to Azzi’s room. They currently sat side by side on the couch, Paige leaning back casually, her arm draped along the top, while Azzi scrolled on her phone, music playing in the background.

When Cam arrived, he barely hesitated before stepping inside. His eyes darted between the two of them, and he immediately moved toward Azzi, arms outstretched to pull her into a hug. But Azzi raised her hand, stopping him mid-step.

“We need to talk,” she said simply.

Cam froze, his brow furrowing. “Talk about what?” he asked, though there was an edge to his voice now.

Azzi gestured toward the door to her room. “In there.”

Cam glanced at Paige, who was still seated on the couch, watching silently, her expression unreadable. He huffed but followed Azzi into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

The moment it clicked shut, Cam turned on her. “Did you turn off your phone last night?” His voice was sharp, his tone teetering on aggressive.

Azzi didn’t flinch as she answered simply, “Yes. But we need to talk.”

Her calmness seemed to irritate him further. “Clearly, we need to fucking talk if you’re turning off your phone when I’m calling you,” he snapped. “I was trying to tell you I couldn’t make it to the party—”

Azzi let out a soft chuckle, cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t there.”

“What?” Cam asked, his confusion mixing with frustration. “What were you doing that you turned off your phone when I called, then?”

Azzi paused, considering her next words carefully. She could feel the weight of the moment, but her decision had already been made. Meeting his gaze directly, she said it plainly: “I was fucking Paige.”

Cam’s entire body stiffened, his jaw clenching as her words registered. “What the fuck did you just say?” he spat.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, almost defiant smile at finally being able to do this. So this time, she repeated herself slowly, enunciating every word as if daring him to challenge her.

“I. Was. Fucking. Paige.”

Cam’s face twisted in confusion, anger, and disbelief as the weight of Azzi’s words hung heavy in the air. “Azzi, what do you mean?” he asked, his voice faltering slightly as if he hoped she might backtrack or offer a different explanation.

Azzi let out a sharp laugh, almost incredulous. “It means exactly what I’m saying, Cam.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, her patience clearly waning with the boy she wanted nothing to do with anymore. “If you really want me to get specific, I can, but I really don’t think you want that.”

Cam shook his head rapidly, as if trying to erase her words from existence. “You can’t be friends with her anymore,” he said firmly, his tone demanding in a way that made Azzi pause.

And then she laughed. Full-on, head-tilted-back laughter, the kind that made it clear she wasn’t even trying to take him seriously. “Oh my god,” she said, catching her breath and looking at him with pure disbelief. “You’re actually stupid.”

Before he could respond, Azzi’s expression hardened. “You know what? Forget it. We’re done. I’m breaking up with you.”

Cam’s eyes widened, his face reddening as he scrambled to regain the upper hand. “You’re breaking up with me?” he repeated, incredulous. “Well, good, because I cheated on you.”

Azzi’s brows shot up, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk tugging at her lips, she said dryly, “Good for you, Cameron. I’m sure those three minutes were absolutely unforgettable for you.”

The words hit like a slap, and Cam’s face turned a deep shade of red, his embarrassment morphing into anger. Without thinking, he lashed out, smacking a framed picture of him and Azzi off her desk. The glass shattered as it hit the floor, the sound echoing in the room.

Azzi didn’t flinch, her expression was calm and unbothered. She knew he wasn’t going to actually do anything to hurt her. She just stood there, arms crossed, watching him like he was a child throwing a tantrum.

But the crash brought Paige into the room almost instantly. She appeared in the doorway, her sharp eyes darting from the broken frame on the floor to Cam’s flushed, angry face. Without hesitation, Paige stepped forward, her tall frame towering over Cam.

Cam turned on her, getting right in her face. The height difference was laughable—he had to tilt his head up just to meet her eyes. “What are you gonna do, huh?” he spat, his voice shaking with misplaced bravado.

Paige didn’t say a word. She just stared down at him, her expression unreadable. It was the kind of look that didn’t need words—calm, but with an unspoken warning behind it.

Azzi, sensing the tension rise, quickly stepped forward and grabbed Paige’s arm. “It’s fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm, not wanting things to escalate. She tugged gently, urging Paige to step back.

Cam’s eyes flicked to Azzi’s hand on Paige’s arm, and his jaw tightened. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath before shoving past Paige and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the crunch of glass under Azzi’s foot as she moved to pick up the broken frame. Paige bent down to help, her gaze softening as she looked at Azzi. “You okay?”

Azzi nodded, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah,” she said lightly, glancing at the door Cam had just slammed shut. “I think he took that about as well as expected.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back and shaking her head, amused but undeniably smug. “Guess I did keep my promise,” she murmured, reaching for Azzi’s hand and pulling her closer.

Azzi let out a light laugh, rolling her eyes as she shifted closer, their knees touching now. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she teased, though the softness in her gaze betrayed her words.

Paige ignored the playful jab, her hand coming up to cradle Azzi’s cheek. She stared into Azzi’s eyes for a moment, the weight of everything between them settling into something unshakable.

“How was it last night though?” Paige asked, her tone low and laced with that confidence Azzi could never resist.

Azzi’s smile widened, but she refused to indulge her too much. “You already know how it was,” she replied, her voice equally soft and teasing. “It was worth breaking up with him for.”

Paige laughed again, the sound warm and full of life. She didn’t say anything else, letting her actions speak louder than words. She leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s in a kiss that held every promise she had ever made.

In the background, the lyrics of What You Heard played softly from Azzi’s speaker, the ending verse weaving through the air like it was written for this moment:

"I try my best, you know I did / I try to give you what you want / But I just couldn’t handle it..."

Azzi’s fingers threaded through Paige’s hair as they broke apart, her forehead resting against Paige’s. “You’re much better,” Azzi whispered, the words carrying all the emotions she couldn’t quite put into sentences.

Paige smiled against her lips, pulling her even closer. “Good,” she said simply, her voice full of quiet assurance.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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chelseeebe · 1 year ago

Text

seven minutes in heaven.

a/n: pure self indulgent smut here i really have no other way to describe this lmfao. i wrote this all in about three hours so please excuse any mistakes bc i had to get the idea out while it was still fresh in the mind. don’t get me wrong i love dominant eddie but let’s be real he’s just not, is he? he’s a fumbling little virgin and i love that

18+. smut. alcohol. sex with someone in the room (don’t do this. this is fiction.) eddie is so pathetically down bad for reader and also a virgin! they’re in college rather than hs bc i’m too old to be writing about teenagers here

‎♡‧₊˚

eddie’s insanely nervous when the bottle starts spinning, anticipating the dread of having to get in that tiny closet with well.. literally anyone.

he wasn’t exactly well versed when it came to sexual encounters. he’d barely just kissed a girl for the first time last year and had been successful in avoiding any and all games of this nature. it’s not like he didn’t want to, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself nor disappoint whichever poor soul had to stuff themselves into that closet with him.

it spins and spins until it lands on chrissy and some dude he’d just met tonight. breathing a silent sigh of relief as he now gets a further seven minutes to think up some excuse as to why he couldn’t kiss his match.

his ringed finger circles the top of the glass bottle, clinking against it in some unrecognisable beat. maybe he could run to the bathroom as soon as they came out? at least he’d have to miss another go, be free of the embarrassment a little while longer.

eddie’s eyes glide around the circle, eyeing up the potential matches. there’s robin, who absolutely not interested in him and especially not anyone of his gender. nancy, she’s cute but one hundred percent not his type and he’s sure that the fact both of her exes are sat in the room would mean they could get out of kissing. a few other girls that he’s sure would kiss him but they wouldn’t be thrilled about it. then there’s you. sat with your legs crossed, skirt riding up your supple thighs and a shirt that hung low enough that you shouldn’t have even bothered wearing one.

he only notices that he’s staring when steve makes some lewd comment about the noises coming from the closet. tearing his eyes off of your chest and onto the rowdy man.

oh shit, what if it lands on a guy? at least maybe they could just shuffle off and pretend to make kissy noises, see that’d be easy.

before he’s able to jump up and run off, chrissy and the unnamed guy stumble out of the closet, giggling with their cheeks flushed.

oh god oh god oh god.

‘ya have fun in there?’ steve bellows, clearly intoxicated and obviously way too eager to have his turn. why couldn’t he just be more like him, eddie thinks.

steve spins the bottle again. going round and round and round until it stops, the lipped edge facing you.

please no. please literally anyone other than him.

if he was clueless with the other girls he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what to do with you.

‘oh shiiit,’ steve hisses as he sends the bottle flying again.

it slows down just before him, thinking he’d escaped once again until the glass stops. pointing right at his gormless face. he blinks at the bottle, trying with all his might to send it flying again through some undiscovered telekinetic energy or some shit.

it doesn’t. obviously. because he’s not fucking superman.

‘come on,’ you speak, stood before him with your hand extended. oh fuck. he’s not sure he can even take your hand. it’s far too clammy and he’d expose his super-virgin status.

he groans getting up from the floor, gingerly taking your hand and following you through the corridor to the closet. his heart in his throat the entire time. he thinks he might just throw up. unsure of if it’s from the anticipation or just sheer terror of having to try and kiss you.

with your fucking tiny skirt and your perfect tits pressed against him. there’s no way he won’t pop a fucking boner. oh god, what if-

‘you okay?’ you ask, shuffling into the small space opposite with the tiny flecks of light shining on your smile. he hadn’t even noticed you’d shut the door, too caught up in his own head to realise that this was now and he was going to have to do something before you ran out of there laughing.

‘yeah- yeah,’ nodding frantically as he attempts to collect himself. maybe you didn’t wanna kiss him? you’d make some polite excuse about having a boyfriend or something and then you could stand and make small talk for the excruciatingly long seven minutes.

‘good,’ you mumble before closing the already tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a haste.

eddie’s head is empty. absolutely nothing going on inside. frozen in time as your lips move against his. he should do something. he just doesn’t know what.

‘what? you never kissed a girl before?’ you scoff, pulling away slightly. are you mocking him? or is this flirting? fuck, why don’t they make books for this kinda shit?

‘y-yeah i have..’ he mumbles, arms still limply hung around his sides. if you could see his face right now, he’d be comparable to a ripe beetroot.

‘so kiss me back then?’ you giggle, connecting your lips once again, soft hand coming to caress his warm cheek.

okay, yeah. just.. kiss back.

he does what he thinks is right, eyes fluttering shut as his lips move with yours. this is good, he thinks. it feels right.

your other hand reaches out to grab his wrist, moving his hand to rest on your waist. giggling into his mouth, your breath tasting like alcohol and a hint of mint. it’s sweet, addicting almost as he chases the taste with his mouth.

adrenaline racing through his veins when your hand leaves his wrist and tangles into his hair, fingernails tracing along his sensitive scalp. he has to restrain himself from moaning into your mouth. it’s an entirely new sensation for him, makes his cock twitch in his tight jeans. he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants you to just tug it, pull his head back with your delicate fingers.

your knee slides between his legs, thick thigh nudging the growing bulge in his pants. letting out the most embarrassing noise into your mouth. before he even has time to curse himself for it your tongue slips into his mouth, using the opportunity to push your chest further into his.

deciding now to be brave, his hand shakily meets your shoulder, holding you in that exact position. he could stay here forever, he wouldn’t need anything else in life. ever.

your lips pull back slightly and he whimpers. literally whimpers in response to the sudden lack of attention. feeling your smile grow against his now swollen lips. who the fuck whimpers? if he hadn’t already established his virgin-ness, he definitely had now.

‘is that good, yeah?’ you breathe, the words almost sending him into cardiac arrest. they sound as if they’re dipped in honey coming from your sweet lips.

he nods quickly, unable to form a coherent response without looking like an utter fool. opening his eyes just enough to see you staring up at him through your lashes. if he weren’t leant against the wall, he’s sure he’d collapse into a puddle of goo.

‘what if i do.. this?’ palm sliding down over his neck and heaving chest before stopping at his belt buckle, waiting for a sign to continue.

his adams apple bobs as he swallows and you take it as a compliment and sliding your hand on top of his very obvious boner.

he’s a goner.

grip tightening on your shoulder as his breath stutters. willing himself not to cum in his pants right then and there. he would never ever live that down. not with that meathead harrington who would definitely pull him up on it the second you left.

‘oh yeah?’ you remark, smirking in the darkness at his pathetic stature. slowly moving your fingers as you palm him through his jeans. your hardened nipples brushing against his chest because of fucking course you weren’t wearing a bra.

there’s no way he’s making it out of this cupboard alive.

‘h-holy shit,’ he chokes out, eyelids fluttering as he fights off fainting. his head is fuzzy, sorta like how he felt when he got high and jerked off except so so much better.

‘maybe we could.. continue this later?’ muttering quietly so as to avoid anyone outside hearing.

he’s well aware that you only have at most a minute or so left before someone rips open that door and reveals the pitiful mess he is. the sentence doesn’t register for a few seconds until he realises what you meant.

‘y-yes,’ he finally responds, overly eager, ‘please,’ ashamed at how desperate he sounded. he’s sure that he’d kill someone for just one extra minute in here with you. not entirely sure how he would be able to hold on until later.

you don’t reply with words, mashing your lips together one last time before someone hammers on the door, signalling that his seven minutes in actual heaven were over.

‘get out you horny fucks, i want a turn!’ steve jokes from the other side, making you spring apart before he comes crashing into the room.

you smile at him again, seemingly so innocent when he knows you’re anything but.

the bright light of the hallway makes him blink before you bound off back to whoever’s room you were playing him. leaving him with the worlds most awkward stiffy and absolutely no way to hide it from the prying eyes of the fellow players.

‘god damn munson, are you alright?’ steve laughs at his outwardly flustered appearance. eddie is so fucking grateful that the boy is too invested in getting his turn to pay full attention to the obvious tent in his jeans.

sliding into his spot, discreetly moving one of the cushions to his lap. he doesn’t give a shit about the game, too busy wondering just when later would be.

it goes on and on.

robin and nancy head off to the closet, receiving a few woos from the gaggle of people.

then it lands on argyle and jonathan, the larger man having to drag jonathan into the closet with an excited wiggle of his brows.

steve’s fuming at every turn that isn’t his, throwing his hands into the air when it lands on anyone other than him.

and then the bottle goes spinning again, stopping on you. eddie’s not sure if it’s jealousy that it could land on anybody else or desperate hope that it lands on him again.

it doesn’t, goes flying right past him and ends up stopping right in front of steve who jumps up, absolutely ecstatic that he finally gets to go into that damn closet.

eddie’s eyes meet yours, ducking his head slightly and hoping that the searing envy wasn’t so apparent on his features. you give him a little shrug and that same damning smile before getting off the floor.

‘c’mon then big boy,’ rolling your eyes as steve pulls you into the closet.

eddie’s seething with jealousy and he’s not even sure why. you weren’t his like, this wasn’t an exclusive contract that meant you could only play the game with him. near enough drawing blood as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. it’s the thought of it. of steve and his big hands and his exuding levels of confidence. infuriating him to no end.

‘you good bro?’ jonathan nudges his elbow, completely unaware that he had been glaring at the same stain on the carpet for what must have been minutes.

‘me? yeah.. i’m good,’ standing to grab himself another beer. thank fuck the boner had subsided. at one point he had seriously considered disappearing to the bathroom to relieve himself but a few thoughts of his sixth grade math teacher naked had killed it completely.

he pops the top off with his ring, taking a long hard swig of the beer, counting the seconds until you’d reappear from the hallway. this would be the perfect time to grow some goddamn balls and show you how he felt. he could slide right into the spot next to you, maybe even extend an arm around your shoulder. you know, really hammer it home.

‘it’s been seven minutes,’ he blurts out instead, appearing more as a jealous weirdo than the cool, outgoing guy he so wished to be. stupid. internally cussing himself out.

‘you were in there for eight minutes, dude,’ robin laughs, shoulders shaking at his eagerness. great, now everyone in the room knew he was a possessive, jealous freak.

‘hah.. yeah right,’ shuffling back to his spot with the worst attempt at playing at cool that he’d ever seen. swallowing the gigantic lump in his throat and watching the doorway like a fucking hawk.

‘seven minutes stevie.. that’s it,’ your voice echoes and you finally reappear, pulling at the strap of your shirt, readjusting it to its rightful position on your shoulder.

‘holy shit,’ steve remarks, his stupidly perfect hair all messed up, red cheeks to match. eddie longs to grab his collar and pummel his fist into his face. he doesn’t of course, that’d make him look really normal.

instead he chooses to read the label of the beer bottle rather intently, ignoring the feeling of your eyes boring into him. perhaps later would never arrive and he’d just have to move on with his life.

the party dies down and eventually the game gets abandoned, party goers slinking off home or to the bedrooms or as argyle had, passing out on the couch. now would be the perfect time to scarper off to his dorm, not like anyone would notice he was gone. you certainly wouldn’t. not with steve hanging around your feet like a lost puppy.

when the music cuts out, he knows it’s time to go. later was quite clearly not coming. and neither was he. well, he would. just when he got home.

‘well, i’m going to bed,’ you announce, pushing yourself from the couch, staring directly at him. is that a hint? is this later? god, he doesn’t know.

hesitating just a moment too long as steve interjects first, ‘me too.. you don’t mind if i crash here, do you?’

your eyebrows raise slightly, still staring him down. waiting for a response well, for anything from eddie.

‘i-i’ll take the couch, if that’s okay?’ thinking that maybe your lack of response was also a hint? it’s really not clear and he just wishes that you’d directly tell him what to do.

‘sure.. knock yourself out,’ you shrug, a tinge of disappointment in your voice. so it was a hint. you wanted eddie to volunteer to stay in your room, he gets it now! now that it’s way too late.

‘great! well, i guess we’re roomies,’ steve smirks, gazing over at you. disgustingly smug in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back. that should be him. if only he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot he might’ve been the one leading you up the stairs. fingers sprawled out on your back and a mischievous grin to match.

he takes his spot on the couch, shuffling out of the denim jacket that had clung to him all night. he’s sure he can hear a distant banging, some muffled moans and a squeaky mattress. or maybe it’s his subconscious playing cruel, horrid tricks on him. whatever it is, he hates that it’s got him excited. it’s incredibly disgusting and perverted but he can’t help it. he’d sported a slight chub for most of the night which was definitely not helping right now.

tossing on the uncomfortable couch until his head is buried in the cushion and he can’t hear it anymore. certainly rock solid as his eyes squeeze shut. oh fuck. the bathroom seemed like a perfectly valid idea now, that wasn’t weird right?

just before he can convince himself to get up and go the stairs creak and he can hear a soft padding of feet climbing down. freezing in his spot, hips pressed into the soft cushion so as to not give away his precarious position. it’s just someone getting water, at least he hopes.

‘are you a fuckin’ idiot?’ your voice whispers harshly from the doorway, muttering curses under your breath as you stumble across the room to the couch.

‘w-what?’ he speaks, turning his head but leaving his body flat against the back of the sofa. now he definitely didn’t want you to see that.

‘you were supposed to- fuck, where are you?’ groaning as your toe collides with the coffee table, still blindly feeling your way to the couch.

‘here,’ he calls, holding his arm out for you to find.

using his voice to finally find the stupid couch, fumbling around as your leg slings over his sideways turned thighs, ‘why are you lying like that? move,’ speaking in hushed voices, trying not to wake the gentle giant on the opposite sofa.

your bossiness certainly doesn’t make matters any better, his dick straining against the denim as he reshuffles, lying flat on his back. he’s grateful that you’d straddled his thighs and not his raging boner.

‘you were supposed to say that you were staying with me, you idiot,’ sitting tall atop his legs.

his hands are suspended in the air, hesitant to touch you. or touch the wrong part of you even. eddie’s brain reboots when you shuffle upwards, mouth running dry as the cogs turn ever so slowly to formulate a reply.

‘i- wha? i thought.. you and steve.. uh, in the closet?’ his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness, just about making out your figure and your furrowed brows. oh god it’s so hot- you’re so hot when you’re mad. his mind flashing back to that dingy closet and how fucking good your hand felt in his hair.

‘no,’ you grimace, ‘i don’t want to fuck steve, i want to fuck you.. are you stupid?’ coming to place your hands on his chest. sure that you could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. ‘he just touched my tits a little and besides, i hid in the bathroom until he passed out.. you are stupid.’

his mouth opens and subsequently shuts again without any words forming. there weren’t any. yes. yes he was stupid. quite clearly. most people probably would’ve gathered what was going on when you’d fondled his balls and very obviously stated that you wanted to fuck him later. well, eddie wasn’t most people.

‘you do?’ is all that he manages to squeeze out, sounding like a small child. eyes shining bright in the little light leaking through the curtains.

‘oh my god,’ you complain, leaning down to connect your lips, wanting to shut him up if nothing else.

even now, he’s still taken aback but he’s not completely brain dead yet as his hands find your hips. see? didn’t even need your guidance this time.

your hips grind down against his, pyjama shorts riding up as you move. eddie’s positively gutted that he can’t see them in this light, he knows they’re soft, can feel that at least. he’s more confident now, a new air about him that just wasn’t there mere hours ago. he thinks that maybe it’s because there isn’t a room full of his friends listening to your every move outside.

that or the sheer level of arousal coursing his veins.

but his tongue is the one to slip into your mouth, noting that you’d definitely brushed your teeth and he wished he’d done the same. your fingers walk the length of his chest, coming between your bodies to his belt buckle.

this is it. he’s going to lose his virginity. and to you no less. oh fuck.

you pull away, tapping on his chest with your other hand, ‘sit up,’ forefinger hooked into one of his belt loops.

he obliges immediately, shifting to sit back against the arm rest. making sure to hold onto your waist as he does. you feel so soft, his fingers melding into your skin perfectly. the cold metal of his rings leaving tiny indentations as his grip tightens. he’d do anything you asked him to, especially if you were poised above him like this.

your hand goes back to working his belt off, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. brushing against his length with your fingers. he’s almost panting, head lolling back instinctively, stifling the ungodly moan that had found itself in the back of his throat.

‘look at me,’ you whisper, still tracing the veiny cock beneath you.

his head shoots up, looking back into your eyes. desperate to please you, abiding by any and all instructions that you barked just incase he fucked this up. he would have to pack his bags and flee the country if he did. not sure that he would be able to live with himself.

‘are you a virgin?’ you ask quietly and he feels his cheeks flush immediately.

was it that obvious? the fact that he’d popped a boner the second you’d kissed him was probably a dead giveaway, actually. you don’t seem to care.. he has no reason to lie. unless this is all one big prank and you’re actually about to climb off of him and start laughing.

it’s totally shameful but actually that’d probably still get him off.

‘yeah..’

you nod, taking your eyes off of his to look down at his cock. there’s a tiny wet patch which had actually most likely been there for hours when he thinks about it.

‘you want to, don’t you? we don’t have to.. could suck you off or something?’

‘n-no no, i want to.. trust me, i want to,’ sounding as desperate as humanly possible. over his dead body would he would fuck this up. now he’s not sure how long he’ll last but he’s sure it won’t be long.

‘okay.. good,’ you smirk, bringing the waistband of his boxers down. his cock springs up to his stomach and his eyes flit shut. was his dick small? is that something you cared about? he didn’t have much to go off here except from porn and even he knew that wasn’t exactly realistic.

he can hear you spit into your hand and he’s back to full attention, watching as it drops into your palm and trying his hardest not to cum right now. with your chin shining and your lips wet, it’s all too much.

and when your tender hand covered in your spit wraps around the base of his cock, he chokes on nothing. fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes in your hips, certain that he’s probably hurting you but unable to let go without busting a nut.

you pump your hand a few times, watching intently as he struggles to stay with it. it’s heaven. no no, it’s better than heaven. better than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life. and the man had gotten creative with some of his masturbation sessions to say the least.

a snore rips through the room and it’s then that he’s reminded of the other man passed out on the other side of the room, ‘shit.. sh-should we carry on?’ nervously taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘just be quiet, he won’t wake up,’ ignoring the drunkard and continuing to pump your hand.

eddie’s unsure if it’s you or if he’s feeling things but he can feel a something wet on his thigh. not brave enough to take his hand down there to find out.

‘you sure you want to?’ leaving your hand at the base of his cock to move yourself upwards.

‘y-yes.. please,’ nodding like a maniac.

that’s all the confirmation you need to shift your shorts out of the way, sitting straighter on your knees and positioning his tip at your sopping entrance.

he’s not prepared one bit for how intense it feels. the sensation sends shockwaves through his entire body, sending his head spinning.

lowering yourself down onto him with a soft sigh, hands now finding his shoulders for leverage. eddie’s about to start levitating. you’re so warm, enveloping him inside just right. the second you move, he’ll probably start crying.

his eyes struggle to stay open, rolling to the back of his head. moaning far too loudly when your hips move forward causing your hand to clamp right over his mouth. as if that wouldn’t make him cum ten times faster.

‘shh,’ you hiss, working your hips at a steady rhythm. soft squeaks leaving your own mouth with every bounce but keeping your eyes steady on him. enjoying the sight of him coming completely undone underneath your body.

your hand leaves his shoulder for a second, manoeuvring his hand onto your chest, ‘touch me,’ mewling when he gets the gist and starts palming your tit. the feel of your hardened nipples underneath his palm only sending him hurtling faster towards his already fast approaching orgasm.

he’s one second away from blurting out that he’s in love with you. which he doesn’t think is far off of the truth to be honest.

you trust him enough to not start babbling and take your hand from his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulder again to quicken your pace. clit catching against the patch of pubes he wishes he had time to tame. it was driving him fucking insane, knowing that he was the reason you were panting and cursing under your breath.

there it is. that familiar sensation of something tightening in his stomach, except a hundred times more intense than anything he’d ever felt before. quickly shaking his head to give you some forewarning though it’s pretty useless.

‘f-fuck, oh fuck,’ lifting his hips from the couch to empty himself into you. eddie could’ve never imagined that this is what you would feel like. pure ecstasy vibrating through his limbs, spurts of white hot pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.

his thighs shaking as he collapses back into the couch, still mumbling a bunch of sorries as he attempts to float back down to planet earth. he’d lasted a measly few minutes and for that, he wanted to curl up and die. if it weren’t for the fact that you were so fucking sexy and so warm and so perfect- he probably would’ve lasted at least a couple minutes more.

eddie’s eyes stay closed as you climb off of him, readjusting your shorts as you settle on his thighs once again, ‘you back in the room yet?’ chuckling quickly, leering down at him.

a strangled laugh falls out of his lips, daring to look at you. ashamed even though he knows it’s not that bad. sure he’d lasted longer than at least one other person out there.

‘sorry.. i swear, gimme like.. like ten minutes..’ doing everything in his power to convince you not to leave. because truthfully if you stayed like this, he probably would be hard again in a matter of minutes.

‘hey.. it’s okay,’ you lean down, chest flat against his, ‘don’t worry ‘bout it,’ head perfectly tilted to gaze up into his eyes. maybe he wouldn’t need ten minutes at all. not with the way you’re looking at him like that, doe eyed and whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear.

‘wanna.. uh,’ the words stick in his throat, ‘wanna get you off,’ blushing despite the fact his dick had literally just been buried inside of you. it’s ridiculous really.

‘you can.. don’t worry,’ pressing your lips to the stubble beneath his chin.

his cock twitches at the sensation and he truly realises how completely pathetic he was. fully at your mercy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #stranger things x you #eddie munson fanfic

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