calico

you frown. it’s been exactly thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds since satoru looked at you last. he’s been on this stupid spreadsheet since class started, and it’s really starting to piss you off.

so you block his view.

“look at my fingers, toru,” you breathe, lifting your hand in front of his face. “i was in such a rush i forgot my rings. my hand looks so ugly.”

he lifts his head—just slightly, just enough that he can focus on the screen & not your hand in front of him—& replies without a beat. “looks pretty, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. “so gorgeous.”

oh, that’s enough.

“toru.”

“hm, baby?”

“kiss me.”

gojo satoru chokes on his tongue. he freezes, blue eyes leaving the screen only to dart around the crowded lecture hall in alarm. he lets his eyes drop to you, and perhaps he shouldn’t have, because you’re looking up at him with glossy lips & too-big eyes & lashes that flutter in that way that means trouble. gojo gulps.

“we can’t do that right now, sweetheart,” his voice catches. you’re pouting up at him but satoru only cups your cheek and tries to reason with you. “we’re in public. can you wait for me, angel?”

your brows furrow, lips wobbling into that pout that only spells out gojo’s demise.

“are you ashamed to kiss me in public?” you croak, fake sniffling. “am i that ugly?”

you’re not ugly. you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know it, satoru knows it, & he also knows you’re doing this on purpose. but your eyes are so glossy. your breathing’s all hitched. your shoulders shake like you’re about to sob—

gojo satoru folds under zero pressure.

he cups your face, thumb brushing faux tears off your lashes as he presses his lips to yours. you taste like strawberry candy & something too sweet to have a name. gojo sighs into your mouth. cocks his head. pulls back just to lean in again when your lashes flutter up at him all pretty. he lets his thumb tug your lip and tongue lick your teeth and—

“ahem.”

you both freeze.

in the row in front of you the nanami kento is there, frown on his face & completely unamused. there are pens littered on his desk & his laptop is wide open—is he reading semantic error?

he eyes you both, lips curled in disgust.

“this is not a love nest.”

you & satoru are blinking in disbelief when nanami turns back to his laptop. he slams it shut in embarrassment when he’s met with an inappropriate panel onscreen.

II. DISTRACTION #2: NETWORKING ❌ NOT WORKING ✅

time: 7:14 pm. location: Bergeron Center for Engineering Excellence

⎚-⎚

gojo satoru has five minutes until the most important meeting of his life.

an opportunity to pitch one of his latest projects to some high-class engineering recruiters—lucky him! he’s in a private office with his speech in his hands, and his beautiful girlfriend kicking her feet on the office table.

you’re supposed to be his supportive plus-one. and gojo does feel supported—how could he not when the love of his life is here for him, dressed up like a midsummer dream? but gojo thinks he’d feel even more supported if you weren’t bracketing his thighs & tugging on his tie every time he tries to speak.

“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity—“

“satoruu,” you coo. “i miss you.”

gojo satoru knows better than to sigh. he does it anyway, collapsing into your neck in resignation as he squeezes your hips. you’re pressing a glossy kiss to his jaw. “i’m right here, sweetheart,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “will you let me focus?”

you nod sweetly, patting his cheek dismissively when he presses a kiss to your neck in thanks.

“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity to present—“

“satoruu,”

thirteen words this time. fairs.

“yes, sweetheart.”

“my feet hurt,” you state, kicking your feet up to show him. for once, you’re not being totally dramatic. even with your heels on satoru can see the sides of your feet reddening, flushed & slightly swollen against the material. his brows furrow. “how’d this happen, angel…?”

he kneels down to slip your heels off. you pout: “i got new heels so i’d look pretty for your presentation. now my feet hurt and i’ve ruined everything.”

satoru frowns, but you’re still spiraling. dramatic as always, talking like it’s the end of the world with your eyes glossy & nose wrinkled in lament. but gojo’s heart only goes sticky in his chest. how could you possibly ruin everything when you are everything?

he reaches up to wipe a tear off your cheek. “look at me, baby,” he murmurs, other hand rubbing circles on your ankles. he looks devastating like this—hair messy, tie loose from all your tugging & knees on the floor for you even though he’s in his finest dress pants. “you didn’t ruin anything, okay baby? look.”

he slips off your heels, then his own leather shoes, & laces them onto your bare feet. “wear these.”

you blink as he lifts you off the table, kneeling back down to adjust the shoes better. you wiggle your toes. your feet don’t even reach the middle, and you almost fall trying to walk two steps, but the gesture alone has you beaming. you turn to him with your lips bent in a clumsy smile.

“they’re huge, toru,” you tease, twirling around for him to watch. satoru only smiles. his heart goes sticky in his throat. he pulls you into a soft kiss because trying to speak might make his chest hurt.

knock knock.

one of satoru’s classmates—nerd #1—peeks his head in, expression slightly terrified. “uh, gojo? they’re ready for you in the boardroom,” he gulps. “you’re up.”

satoru nods, gathers his speech papers. you’re practicing walking around in his shoes now, arms stretched out to help you balance as you strut around with a grin on your face. gojo satoru looks down at his feet. they’re in nothing but a pair of socks.

right.

he sucks in a breath, then turns to kiss your forehead. “stay here where it’s warm, okay?”

you’re still admiring yourself in his shoes, but you chirp out an okay! regardless. satoru bites his lip. it’s showtime.

——

the faculty is looking at satoru like he’s grown two heads.

have they never seen a shoeless man before? how rude. he’s standing on the boardroom’s stage now, clipboard in hand, projector lighting up the board behind him. some of the recruiters are nodding. the others are trying not to look at his feet so they can’t be accused of classism. gojo satoru is not even poor. a glance at his suit should tell you that.

but gojo doesn’t care. he presents without issue—even though the entire time, his mind is on you.

the boardroom door has a center made of glass. through the pane, satoru can see you back in the office—you’ve somehow found music controls for the office’s boombox, and you’re dancing—oh god, you’re dancing—twirling around with a clumsy smile & laughing when you stumble in his much larger shoes.

satoru’s heart swells. his lip twitches.

gojo turns his focus back to his presentation. he’ll work hard to keep you smiling for the rest of your life.

III. DISTRACTION #3 : WHY IS MY GIRLFRIEND IMMUNE TO TUTORING…

time: 6:14 PM location: The Quad, Satoru’s Apartment.

⎚-⎚

“who discovered the americas ?”

“Martin Luther King.”

You are going to fail this exam.

“that’s enough general history today,” gojo mutters, voice croaking in alarm when you give your answer. you’re tucked in his lap, fingers curled in his collar, nose in his neck & completely unbothered. your perfume is sticky in his lungs. “let’s try math. you like math, baby?”

“mhm,” you kiss his jaw. “love it.”

no you don’t. gojo flips open a book with one hand, the other rubbing circles on your thigh. “let’s practice some integration…” he scans the page for questions while you twirl the hairs on his nape. “okay, this one. can you try this for me, princess?”

your lips tug into a bored frown. “okay,” you lean up to glance at the page, “done.”

he blinks, “done?”

“yes,” you flop back against him, soft & pretty & tired & his. “i solved it in my head.”

satoru bites his lip, brows knit in concern. “baby, you can’t solve integrals in your head.”

“i have a very strong brain.”

satoru prays for some strength of his own. okay—okay. he purses his lip. “so strong, baby. do you want to walk me through your process?”

you frown in his neck.

“first of all,” you tug his collar, lashes fluttering, “i looked at the numbers.”

“good job.”

“then,” you tug his earlobe, “i got bored.”

“oh.”

satoru sighs—of course you did. he purses his lip, blue eyes flitting across the page as his spoiled pretty angel hugs his neck; dreary and tired and ‘bored’ in his lap. finals are coming up and things are not looking good for you. he prays for strength (again).

you seem to have found some strength of your own. gojo’s not sure when you pick up your phone (which he had confiscated from you earlier), but while he stares into the distance and laments your guaranteed failure, you scroll through your phone with a grin on your lips.

“toru, look at this bag,” you coo, pushing the bright screen to his face. “it’s so pink and pretty, just like me.”

“just like you,” he repeats, still staring into the distance.

“wow, nine-hundred-and-fifty dollars,” you kick your feet in his lap. “baby, can i buy it?” you coo, voice sweet.

satoru blinks out of his daze. he glances at the phone screen—then at you, suddenly sweet & bright & brimming with energy. his thumb brushes your inner thigh. “baby, you’re supposed to be studying.”

“i am studying,” you frown, and gojo wants to kiss it off again. “i’m studying consumer behavior. can i have your card?”

there are three reasons gojo satoru should not give you his card.

you are going to fail your exams.

you haven’t double-checked if the price is in CAD or USD.

you are going to fail your exams.

gojo lets you have his card.

you squeal, hopping off his lap to retrieve his wallet in the other room. satoru leans back against his desk chair. in front of him, his desk is a mess of opened books & littered pencils, a ‘get good grades!’ subliminal playing on your mini speaker because you insisted the whispered affirmations would guarantee your success. gojo sighs.

“thank you, toru!” you sing as you pad back into the room, a skip in your step. you lean down to kiss his cheek & flop onto his bed to open his laptop. you have his wallet in your hands, and gojo satoru already knows you will not double check the currency.

gojo closes your textbook with a sigh. better luck next time.

ac: (see alt text!) @ to00fu

DISTRACTIONS, end.

“Well, what about that one?” 

Rafe rolls his eyes, about to say that yes, he had indeed fucked whatever girl Topper was pointing at this time. Because he’d fucked all of them. Because of who he was. Because of what he was capable of. Because of the family he came from. Because of what being a mere notch on Rafe Cameron’s bedpost meant to every single slut he’d ran through. 

Except he doesn’t. Because Topper is pointing at you. And he’s never seen you before in his life.

You look so out of place, despite the fact you’re with a group of Pogues. And he knows you’re a Pogue. Like a shark with blood and a predator with its prey, he can always tell. And yet you stand awkwardly on the outskirts of the group, smiling yet not quite participating in whatever conversation is going on. You push your glasses up, straighten your skirt, pretend to look for something in your book bag. You’re shy. Self-conscious. Insecure. Rafe smiles.

“Who is she?”

“Aha! You haven’t slept with her!” Topper cheers like he’s won the fucking lottery. Sometimes Rafe wonders why he’s friends with him.

“Who is she?” He repeats like he hasn’t even heard him.

“She’s the new chick,” Kelce says, “except she’s not exactly new in town.”

“I heard she was home-schooled,” Topper snickers, “That’s why she’s fucking weird and has no friends. Even the Pogues don’t want her.”

Rafe observes you some more. Watches the bright smile on your face, how you try to chime in to whatever conversation the girls around you are having. They nod at you politely yet dismissively. They’re not your friends. As Topper said, you don’t have any. 

Insecure. Weak. Vulnerable. 

He licks his lips.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

He runs a hand through his hair impatiently, “How long do you wanna bet it takes me to get her into bed?” He nods in your direction.

Topper raises an eyebrow.

“You can’t be serious, man. She looks like she doesn’t even know what sex means.”

Kelce laughs, “She looks like she can’t even say it. Like she spells it out every time, s-e-x.”

They’re right. You look very innocent, but all that does is incense him. Rafe’s used to easy sluts who spread their legs after one drink or a ride on his motorbike. But you. He can tell you’d be harder to crack. But there’s something so fucking hot about how naive you look. How shy and sweet you are. How ruined he could leave you. Splayed out on his bike, legs quivering, all sweaty limbs and shy pants after he’s done having his way with you—

“How long?” He repeats, not in the mood to waste time and already getting hard picturing innocent little you with your tiny skirt flipped up and his head buried between those soft thighs, your sweet little confused cries because no one’s ever touched you like that, and— 

“A week.” 

“Mm?”

“A week to fuck her. With proof.” 

Rafe stands up and stretches, licking his lips as he watches you retreat to a small bench, getting your little book out and burying your nose in it. 

“That’s too easy. What do I get when I do it?”

“If you do it, you can decide what you get then. But as I said before, we’d need proof.” Kelce says.

“Yeah, proof,” Topper echoes, a glint in his eye as he looks over at you, “Pictures.”

Rafe shrugs, already kind of bored, “Sure.” He’d taken plenty of pictures of his conquests in the past. Him and his boys had a group chat where they shared that kind of shit. And the idea of taking pictures of you in such a vulnerable position gets him harder than anything. Sweet little freshman baby fucked dumb by the big bad senior, posing for pictures afterwards all teary-eyed but submissive. They all got submissive for him, even after he was done using them.

You flip a page, completely engrossed in your book and looking every bit the naive baby he’s imagining you as. A little lamb who has no idea she was in the presence of a fucking lion. And he bets you’re a virgin. Homeschooled with no friends? Forget virgin, you probably haven’t even had your first kiss. And that gets him so fucking horny, right there in the middle of the campus courtyard. The idea that you’re so pure, so untouched. So happy, so unassuming. A little fucking baby.

He’d have fun ruining you.

***

“You sure do love reading, don’t you?” 

It’s the following day when Rafe finds you sitting by yourself in the corner of the library, with nothing but your book to keep you company.

You jump like a little mouse, pushing your glasses up your nose and gulping up at him, fear briefly flitting across your face before you force a small smile. And he likes his girls jumpy, he likes them slightly afraid of him. He knows he has that effect on people in general, but he wonders who’s told you about him.

“Sorry, were you — uh — were you talking to me?”

Rafe smirks, “Yes. Who else would I be talking to?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure…”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh, of course,” you look embarrassed, and he watches you squirm under his gaze for a good few seconds. “I… um…” 

“You find books more interesting than people?”

“Huh?”

He chuckles, pulling up a chair next to you, noting how your eyes widen as he takes a seat, “Why are you always reading?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just like to read,” you shrug. 

“You sure do.” He wonders if he could get you to read your precious book out loud while he went down on you, licked your virgin cunt while you cried because it felt too good. And then he’d spank you if you stopped or messed up a word, and like a stupid dumb fucking baby, you’d sniffle and wail through each paragraph, hold back your moans while he went to town on your little pussy till you wet yourself, and he’d suck your—

“Are you making fun of me?”

You pose the question so innocently— hell, you practically whisper it, and it knocks Rafe straight out of his daydream to find you blinking up at him with Bambi eyes. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not so good at understanding if someone’s joking or not. I’m not… uh… I’m not used to being around so many people, and it makes me nervous and I can’t tell if someone’s being genuine or if they’re making fun of me.” 

“You were homeschooled, huh?” Rafe stares at you intently, noting how you play with your hair nervously, and your fingers tap against the hard cover of your book. How you can barely make eye contact with him for longer than a few seconds. 

“Yes. My mom taught me and my older brothers.”

Rafe nods, taking his time to answer. He looks at you some more, enjoying how it makes you uncomfortable. You fidget nervously, and it amuses him every time you peek up to meet his gaze before a look of alarm crosses your face and you divert your eyes down to your book once more. 

“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?” He says finally, chuckling at the embarrassed look on your face.

“I… I guess. I do want to make friends but it’s pretty overwhelming.”

“I’ll be your friend.” 

He does a good job of hiding his predatory, wolfish smile. And he wonders if you can see the glint in his eye as he mentally undresses you. You look so small and weak, especially compared to him. Gullible too. Too innocent for your own good, the way you gape up at him as if he’s offered you gold on a platter. It makes him want to stroke your soft cheek, pat it and tell you what a good little girl you are. For being so naive. 

You shake your head as if trying to straighten out your thoughts. He can tell, he has that effect on women too. 

“Oh, you don’t have to, I uh—”

“Rafe Cameron?! In the library?!” An annoying, high-pitched voice shrieks, making you jump as it cuts you off mid-sentence.

It’s a kook girl. A cheerleader. Rafe can’t be fucked to remember her name but he’s sure he’s hooked up with her. She’s one of those ones, the ones that hang out at the country club and try to catch his eye. One of the desperate sluts who thinks if she spreads her legs enough times for him, that he’ll make her his girlfriend or some stupid shit like that. 

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” The cheerleader sidles up to him, her hand on his chest and batting her lashes in his direction in some pathetic form of seduction. She ignores you, and you shrink into yourself, hastily burying your face in your book.

“What do you want?” He asks, not quite as interested in her answer as he is in continuing to stare at you. How you try to act like you don’t care, but he knows you’re hurt from being ignored, from being treated like you’re invisible.

“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re up to.” But she flashes him her fuck me eyes, her nails scraping suggestively against his chest. Rafe yawns, considering it. He has time before his next class (not that he could be fucked to turn up to class half the time) and his dick’s hard from talking to you. And since you probably don’t even know what the word blowjob means… 

“Go in there,” he nods at one of the private study rooms in the far end of the library, and the fucking slut nearly trips as she scrambles to obey him. Rafe takes his time, stretching his legs before slowly getting up.

You peek up from your book, “Are you guys gonna go study in there?” 

He could’ve bust a nut then and there from how fucking innocent you sound. Batting your little eyelashes at him like you’re trying to seduce him without even realising it. He knows he’ll be thinking about you, weepy and on your knees, while the kook girl blows him. Fuck, and if he plays his cards right, he’d have you by the end of the week. And he always plays his cards right. 

“You could call it studying.”

You nod, “OK, well, goodbye then.” You look back down at your book, but risk a glance up at him again, which he finds very amusing. 

“What’s your name, homeschool?” 

You tell him.

He sounds it out, before shooting you one last smile, “Well, I’ll see you soon. Won’t I?”

You give him a puzzled look, but it’s replaced by your usual wide-eyed Bambi stare when he pats your hand, his thumb lingering, stroking your skin. He wonders if you’ve ever even touched someone of the opposite sex before. Judging by how your breath hitches softly, he doubts it. 

Fuck. He can’t wait to ruin you. Play the slow game and enjoy that sweet virgin snatch before any other man ever could. 

That’s what he’s thinking of when he’s got the cheerleader on her knees in front of him. That sweet little look on your face, the look of curiosity mixed with shyness and that little hint of indignation. Fuck, he wants to ruin you. And he would. With proof.

***

Day two. Rafe finds you walking down the hallway, your books clutched to your chest and eyes trained to the floor. Cutest little skirt making your perky ass pop, winking at him enticingly with every step as if you’re deliberately seducing him. Makes him want to slap your cute little ass, reprimand you for teasing him and half the men on campus without even realising it. He wonders what you’d say if he just did it. Spanked you in front of everyone. You’d probably start blubbering like a little baby. He has to forcibly stop picturing it before he gets uncomfortably hard.

You’re alone. As usual.

“Hey, homeschool,” he falls into step beside you, eyebrow raising in amusement when you don’t slow down nor look at him.

“Oh, h-hello, Rafe.” 

“What’re you up to today?” 

“Nothing, just going to my next lecture.”

He grabs your wrist, watching as your breath hitches, and yet you still don’t look at him. Damn, what had gotten Bambi so scared?

“You’ve got time to talk to me, don’t you?” He asks, but it’s not really a question. And you know it, judging by how you swallow harshly.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be late—” You attempt to tug your little hand out of his grasp but you’re so small and weak that it barely has any effect. 

“C’mon, homeschool. That’s no way to treat your one and only friend.”

He’s walks you into a corner, and he likes how you gape at the wall before turning and looking up at him. He’s so much taller than you, bigger than you in every single way. 

“Rafe, I…” you sigh, shifting from one foot to the other, “My friends said some things…”

“Friends?” You don’t have any.

“Some of the girls I know. They saw us talking yesterday at the library and they…” you sigh, “They said you were probably just playing a joke on me.”

Fuckin’ jealous pogue bitches. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. They said there’s no way you’d talk to me for any other reason apart from as a joke. And they…” you bite your lip, looking so cutely distraught and it goes straight to his dick. “They said some other things… about you.” 

Of course they fuckin’ did. Always talking behind his back, but never to his goddamned face. Nothing but a bunch of jealous, gold-digging whores.

He doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you as if he expects you to tell him. And he knows you will. You’re too innocent to keep secrets.

“They said that you… that you’re scary sometimes.”

Rafe remains impassive, waiting for you to continue. 

“That you… that you pick on a lot of us Pogues. E-Especially the boys. That you and your friends bully them.”

He snorts. Bully. What a juvenile word. Sure, he pushed the dipshit Pogues around here and there. They deserved it for all the trouble they ran around town causing, disrupting the natural order of shit. And he could fuck their girls better than they ever could. Especially that fuckin’ idiot JJ Maybank…

“They also said that… never mind.” Again, you try to tug away from him but to no avail.

“Tell me.” He likes how you struggle under his scrutinising gaze.

“It’s… it’s not appropriate.”

“Say it. Now.” 

You lower your voice, “They said you like to use the girls. The pogue girls. Th-That you have a kink for them.” 

The scandalous words have hardly left your mouth before you duck your head down as if embarrassed. God, you were so fucking innocent. Rafe wonders how he should play this. 

“Huh. Is that so?”

“Y-Yeah. One of the girls I talk to… She said that you…” you swallow, biting your lip, “that you’ve been with her and all her friends too. That you tell them all the same thing but it’s always a lie and you just end up using them.”

Rafe nods, “Hmm.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I don’t think we should—“

“That’s funny. I thought you were smart. You know, with all your books and the glasses and shit.”

You blink, “What?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t think you’d go ahead and pass judgement on someone without even getting to know them first.”

“It’s not that–”

“I mean, here I am, wanting to be friends with you. And I’ve been nothin’ but nice, haven’t I?”

He’s still got you backed into a corner, and he watches as you flinch when he emphasises his words. He knows people get intimidated by his intensity, but there’s nothing he hates more than people talking shit behind his back. Especially low-life Pogues. And he likes how scared you look right now, pouty lips all downturned and alarm in your eyes.

“I asked you a question, homeschool.”

“Yes, you’ve been nothing but nice! It’s just, I heard all these things, and–”

“And you chose to believe them.” He steps back abruptly, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

He walks away, about to count to three in his head but you beat the count before he can even begin.

“Rafe, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to judge you.”

He stops, allows you to catch up.

“You’re right, I…I shouldn’t listen to other people.”

“You shouldn’t.” Rafe agrees, easily taking your heavy textbooks from where you’ve been balancing them in your arms. You gape, but he just continues smoothly: “Where’s your next class?”

You tell him, “But you don’t have to walk with me or anything–”

“I’m your friend, homeschool. That’s what friends do.”

*

Day 3. You’re eating your lunch on a bench outside all by yourself. Rafe’s heading to his car with his friends. They usually cut classes most days to hit the beach or the country club. Rafe doesn’t see the point of college anyways, not when he was poised to inherit all of his father’s businesses, money and property. And with the ideas he had, he’d expand tenfold on whatever Ward was doing now, make a shit ton more money than his old man ever did. That would show him…

 ”How’s the bet coming along, Rafe?” Topper asks.

“Wait till the end of the week.” Is all Rafe says. He doesn’t need to give progress reports to his dumb fuck ass follower friends.

“That means he’s nowhere near cracking that virgin pussy.” Kelce chuckles. “No worries, brother. She looks like she’s got a stick up her ass anyways. Not loose like the rest of the Pogue whores.”

He ignores them as they laugh. But they’re right. You’re not like the rest of the Pogue girls. They’d grown up wild, promiscuous, loose. Trained to catch the attention of a rich Kook like himself, filled with self-serving motivations to marry into money. But he can already tell you’re different. With your cute little outfits and respectful, quiet demeanour. You look like you’d fit in where he was from.

Too bad he was only going to fuck you before discarding you like he did the rest of them.

“I’ll catch you guys later.” He says, making a beeline for you.

“Hey,” he chucks you under the chin, smirking when you jump.

“Oh, hey Rafe.” You look beyond his shoulder, “Your friends are all leaving.”

“Yeah. The waves are good this time of day.”

You gape, “But don’t you have classes?”

He takes a seat next to you, making sure to stretch out while you shrink into yourself. Still so nervous around him. He snickers, “You gonna tell on us?”

You look aghast, “No! I would never–”

“I’m just kidding, homeschool.”

“Oh,” you look embarrassed, “Sorry. Sometimes I–”

“Can’t tell if someone’s joking or not,” Rafe completes, “I remember. I’ll be more straight up with you.”

You nod, and he can tell you’re trying to think of something else to say. But you’re too nervous, too awkward. And so you just bury your head in your book again, all while he watches you. You’ve got a bottle of apple juice and a half-eaten sandwich of some kind on the table next to you. Cut up into little triangles. He bets you’ve done it yourself. Fuckin’ cute.

“You dress cute.” He says, and again, widened Bambi eyes stare up at him. He chuckles, “You know, the little skirts and plaid and shit. It’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

“You do it on purpose?” He can’t help but ask, because he wonders if a part of you knows what you’re doing. Knows you’re dressing like a sexy little angel out of his wettest dreams. All little and cute and innocent, so much smaller than him. Weak. All pastel and pretty, like you’d look so fucking sexy on the back of his bike. On his arm. On his dick.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” you say, sounding every bit as innocent as you look. Damn, homeschool must’ve done a number on you. But he likes how sheltered you sound. It gets him so fucking hard, and a part of him almost feels sorry for how primed you are to be taken advantage of. “I wear my mom’s old clothes, or stuff I find in the charity shops.”

He’d had maids and housekeepers who shopped in places like that. He remembers him and his siblings giving them their old clothes once they’d grown out of them.

He nods, “You look pretty.”

Your breath hitches, and you really don’t know how to respond to that, because you slam your book shut and stand up, “I, uh, I have to go. I don’t want to be late for my next class.”

He watches you leave, distracted by your ass again but not enough to miss the little smile that quirks on your lips as you bid him farewell and walk away.

*

On day 4, Rafe walks up behind you in the busy hallway, pressing his huge hand on your lower back and pushing you into another secluded corner. He smirks when you squeak, but he likes how easily he can push you around because of how weak and small you are.

“Hey.” He told himself he’d take it slow (well, as slow as he could take it in the span of one week) and yet he can’t help but press into you a little bit. It’s innocuous enough, but your eyes widen as per usual, and the feel of your hot little body against his much larger one is enough to give him a boner. It’s how he could easily push you into an empty lecture hall and have his way with you if he so wanted to. Sure, you’d cry and resist at first, but they all gave in in the end. And if someone caught them, he’d pay them off.

Rafe Cameron owned the world. Nothing could stop him.

“Hello, Rafe.” You breathe, and he loves how his name sounds when you say it. He imagines you moaning it when he has you on his lap, pressing you down on his dick while you cry and whimper because it’s too much, it’s too big. But your greedy little virgin pussy would take every inch of his fat dick, and he’d do all the work, of course. You’d be too busy crying, and he’d bounce you up and down on his dick while you grabbed at his arms, his hair, his face. He’d tell you to scrape your nails down his back, leave a fucking mark or two so daddy could remember you.

“Come for a drive with me? I’ll buy you lunch.”

Despite your shyness, a fire flashes in your eyes, “I can buy my own lunch!”

He raises an eyebrow. As if on cue, you lower your gaze.

“Sorry, I mean… thank you for your offer, Rafe. But I can buy my own lunch.”

Surprisingly though, you agree to the drive. And he still has his hand pressed against your back, guiding you out to where his car’s parked. You ogle at it, probably never having seen anything as expensive. He wonders if your family even owns a car, or if you even know how to drive. It would be hot if you didn’t, it made you look even more helpless. In need of someone like him to protect you, take care of you. Someone powerful and wealthy like himself.

“Wow, I’ve never been on this side of the island before!” You say, oohing and aahing as you stare out the window. Rafe’s never seen anyone so easily excited by the neighbourhood he’d grown so used to. But he supposes the mansions, sports cars, country clubs and private beaches would be impressive to anyone who hadn’t grown up with easy access to all of that.

“No?”

“No, but my brother’s friend works there, I think.” You point to the vast golf course at the back end of one of the clubs. “He says the tips are really good.”

Rafe frowns. You were talking to other men? No, not you. You were too sweet, too innocent. He was sure he was the only man you spoke to. Or even if you were speaking to others, he doubts a golf caddy pathetically running after balls would be much competition. And yet, he bristles, wanting to change the subject.

“Do you have a job?” Rafe asks.

You shake your head, “No. I sometimes tutor some kids in the neighbourhood but nothing permanent. I’d love to have a part-time job with proper wages like the country club or library or something, but my family’s kind of protective of me.”

“Mm?” He’s deliberately being quiet, wanting to hear you talk, wanting to learn more about you.

“Yeah. That’s why I was homeschooled. My mom’s scared someone’s gonna take advantage of me.” You pause, before giggling, “It took a lot to convince her to let me apply for colleges, but I think she’s finally starting to see me as an adult who can make my own decisions and protect myself.”

The irony isn’t lost on Rafe, but he finds himself leaning closer. You have this way of talking, so soft and breathy, yet energetic and full of life at the same time. Like you’re a storybook character, like you’re someone out of this world. Like an angel dropped down from heaven and sent just for him. You’re his type to a tee. God, he wants to fuck you so bad.

“What would your mom say if she knew you were out with me?” His hand creeps up to rest on your knee. You’re wearing jeans, which he doesn’t approve of but he decides to give you a pass since it’s windy today.

You don’t notice his touch anyways; you’re too busy pondering over his question. But there’s a glint in your eye, “Sh-She wouldn’t approve. But that’s only ‘cause she doesn’t know you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, his thumb rubbing circles against the denim of your jeans. “And you do?”

You swallow, finally realising he’s got his hand on you. Surprisingly, you don’t move. It’s almost like you’re frozen, those big fuck me Bambi eyes making a comeback, “Uh…I…We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He smirks, “Yeah. Friends.” His hand creeps up higher, stroking your thigh softly, wishing you were wearing one of your little skirts so he could feel your bare skin. But it’s thrilling anyways, touching your quivering body while you’re defenceless inside his car. He could lock the doors and have his way with you right now. Hell, people outside would get quite the show but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked in public.

Poor little you. Losing your virginity in the front seat of his car. He’d drag you into his lap, bounce you up and down on his cock. But not before making you beg for it first. And you’d cry so fucking bad, because it would hurt. Because he’d promise he’d be gentle but he knows himself, he knows he’d lose control like he always did. Fuck you so goddamned hard, he’d have to lay you down in the backseat afterwards because you wouldn’t be able to stop shaking. Then drive you back to his house, carry you into his bed and have his way with you again. And again. And again.

“Rafe?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me, are you?”

That grabs his attention, “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, “No reason. I just… Well, you have so many friends. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re hanging out with me.”

“I like you.” He shifts even closer, his hand steadily stroking your leg while you remain stiff, “Do you like me?”

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me, homeschool.” And yet he knows you’re distracted by his fingers tracing shapes on your thigh. Not random shapes, though. It’s his initials. Over and over again. R.C., he wonders if you can tell.

“I, uh, y-ye–” You’re having trouble getting your words out, and it amuses him. He can see you visibly shaking, and he wonders if it’s out of fear or anticipation. Or both. He leans down, bringing his face close to yours.

“I didn’t quite get that.” He licks his lips at how weak and intimidated you look. “Say it again.”

It’s an order, and you clear your throat, shake your head as if to clear your thoughts.

“Yes,” you whisper, as if it’s something scandalous, “Y-Yes, I like you.”

He pulls back abruptly, leaving you gaping at him.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

He buys you a panini from a little artisan bakery, with a strawberry iced tea and a packet of chocolate hearts with a cherry cream filling. You protest at first, unzipping your bag to pay for yourself, but he’d sooner roll over and die than let a woman pay for anything.

“Toss me one,” he says, and you throw a little cherry-filled truffle at him. He catches it between his teeth, and your eyes light up, clearly impressed.

“Wow, that was cool!”

“C’mere, you’ve got a little something…” He grabs your chin gently, pulling you forward before rubbing his thumb against the side of your lip, wiping away a bit of chocolate. “Messy girl.”

Your breath hitches, but you stay still for him like a good little girl. His thumb lingers, and he wants to press it into your mouth, make you suck the chocolate off it. Then tell you he had something else for you to suck on. Push you down and make you warm his cock with your mouth while he drove you back to campus. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing your head down, making you take his big cock despite you whimpering and panicking because you can’t breathe.

He rubs your lower lip with his thumb for a moment before pulling away. You clear your throat, snapping out of whatever reverie you’ve been in, straighten up against the seat and put your seatbelt on. You still look like you’re in a daze, however, and he wonders if you’re wet from him wiping your face clean.

“I-uh-we should head back please, if that’s okay?” you say, voice slightly shaky as you avoid eye contact with him. “I don’t want to miss my afternoon class.”

He grins, “You a teacher’s pet?”

That makes you smile, and you shrug shyly. It almost enamours him.

He gets you back to campus on time, and you give him a little wave before you jump out of his car and walk inside. And god, it’s insane how hot you are. Even in your jeans, which have cute little embroidered flowers on the butt. Makes your ass look insane. Like it’s begging to be grabbed, smacked, fucked.

He breathes out heavily through his nose, slumping back against his seat. His dick is uncomfortably hard. God, you didn’t even realise how much you’d teased him tonight. Sitting tight and pretty in the passenger seat of his car, so quiet and pretty. So innocently impressed by Figure 8, and by him. How shy you’d been when you’d admitted that you liked him…

He gets his phone out, blindly texting one of the desperate girls on his phone. He needs a release. And he’d be thinking of you the whole time.

*

On day 5, Rafe tells you to give him your number. From his peripheral, he can see a bunch of Pogues whispering and watching while he takes your phone and puts his number in.

“Have your little friends been talking more shit about me?”

You flinch. He can’t help the intensity of his tone sometimes, and he’s noticed you never swear and, like a jumpy little mouse, probably feel intimidated when he does.

“No, I haven’t really spoken to them in a while.”

Rafe grins, “Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ve been busy with schoolwork.”

He saves his number on your phone before pressing it into your back pocket for you. You gape, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. He wonders just how prim and proper you are, and how quickly he could get you to come undone once he got you comfortable and behind closed doors.

“You’re not too busy to text me, right?”

You smile, looking down and fidgeting with your binder. He notices you’ve got little stickers on it, like cupcakes and hearts and shit. What a fuckin’ baby.

“Text you? I don’t really– I have to a test tomorrow that I need to study for.”

But he knows you’ll text him. They always did. You weren’t any different.

“What are you smiling at?” Kelce asks, pulling up beside him as Rafe watches you head into your next class.

Immediately, he straightens his face, “Nothing man.”

“You falling for that homeschool freak Pogue?”

He snorts, “You wish. I have standards.”

“You sure about that?”

He whips his head sharply to stare down at his friend, “You want me to repeat myself?”

Rafe doesn’t miss the flicker of fear in Kelce’s eyes. They’d never admit it, but he knows his friends are afraid of him. Of his mood swings, his unpredictability. He doesn’t care. In fact, he prefers it this way. They weren’t like him, they were weak-minded, beneath him. He kept them around because of semantics, because of who their parents were and who his dad was. And because they proved to be minorly useful sometimes when he needed help to get shit done.

All the girls he’d been with had been afraid of him too. When he fucked them, he often lost control. But it turned him on, how they’d swallow their fear in case they offended him, or set him off. Once, he’d fucked a girl who just wouldn’t stop shaking. Sure, he’d showed her his gun right before he’d bent her over, but it was her problem if she was frightened by something as mundane as that.

You weren’t scared of him. Yet. Intimidated, sure. But he’d kept that side of him well under wraps when it came to you. You were too sweet, too pure. And you were a good girl, incapable of crossing him in any form. He didn’t have to scare you to get what he wanted from you. No, you’d give it to him, like the good little girl you were. Naïve, innocent little girl.

*

Rafe: Hey.

Y/N: Hi, Rafe. How are you?

He finds himself smiling at his screen. There’s a party going on downstairs, but Rafe couldn’t care less. It’s the same thing every other night. His friends showing up at his house and bringing along a whole entourage of people he doesn’t give a fuck about. Sarah used to do it a lot before she moved out, invite her fuck ass Pogue friend group into his house as if they were ever welcome there.

Rafe didn’t want any Pogues inside his house. Unless they were girls that he intended to sleep with. But he appreciated it when they showed themselves out once he was done using them.

Rafe: What are you up to?

A minute passes by, then another one. Fuck, he hates that you’re making him wait. What a fuckin’ tease. He wonders for the hundredth time if you’re doing it on purpose. No, not you. You’re too innocent.

Y/N: Nothing, I just finished cleaning my room. Wbu?

It’s insane how the visual of that gets his dick hard in less than a second. The thought of you doing something as domestic as cleaning. The good little college girl, who went home straight after school and spent her evenings dusting and vacuuming or whatever it was that cleaning entailed. Unlike the Kook sluts his friends were probably fucking downstairs. They were pathetic party girls who’d easily spread their legs for a line or two.

He calls you, losing patience with this texting bullshit. He runs a hand through his hair impatiently when you don’t immediately pick up, huffing and gulping down the remaining whiskey in his glass. Slamming it down on his desk when you still don’t pick up. Fucking tease. He grabs a baggie from one of the drawers, prepares a neat line; despite promising himself he wouldn’t do it tonight. Fuck that. Ten seconds have passed; you still haven’t picked up. He snorts it quickly, about to throw his phone out the fucking window, except you choose that moment to pick up.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi,” he sounds slightly breathless, but who the fuck cared. He refills his glass with more whiskey, taking a sip to calm himself down. “Took your time to pick up, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say hastily, “I got distracted.”

He feels a sudden surge of jealousy so violent, he doesn’t know how to act for a moment. Distracted by fucking what?

“The lights went out, so I had to go reset them,” you explain, and he barks out a laugh. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Y-You sound kinda breathless, Rafe,” you say, “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” He downs his drink and sets it aside before his hand slips down. God, you sound so hot. All breathy and innocent, even just over the phone. “Tell me what you were doing.”

A pause, and then you force out a chuckle, “I told you, I just finished cleaning.”

“What like vacuuming and shit?”

“Yes.”

Over the years, Rafe had slept with a number of maids Ward had hired on multiple occasions. He’d fucked Wheezie’s babysitter a few years ago, the housekeeper too. His father had a knack for hiring hot Pogue girls, and maybe that’s where Rafe’s kink for them started.

He could imagine you working for him – he’d make you wear the sexiest little barely-there maid outfit. You wouldn’t question it because you were too innocent. With your little feather duster, trying to clean except you’d be too small to reach certain areas. Fuck, he wouldn’t last five seconds in the same room as you. And he wouldn’t have to because you’d be his hired help, his property. He’d have you bent over his desk, fuck you so hard till you couldn’t stop shaking, till you were crying like a baby and apologising for not focusing on cleaning all while he carried you up to his bedroom. Locked you up in there so nobody else could see you. His girl. All his.

“Uh, Rafe?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.

A pause.

“Really?” You clear your throat, “Where are you? I can hear music.”

“Shit, yeah. Like, there’s a party or whatever going on downstairs. My friends came over unannounced.”

“Oh.” He can sense a level of dejection in your tone. He bets you’re thinking about it, thinking how it’s just a reminder that he has his own group of Kook friends. And you’d never be one of them. You’d never truly fit in. You were either one or the other. Hell, Sarah had proven that when she’d transitioned into the slums. But maybe there was a way to bring you into his world, a way that would stick.

He has to forcibly shake his head to remind himself you’re just part of a stupid bet.

“I’d rather speak to you than them.”

 “That’s not true, Rafe.”

“I like how you say my name.” He’s palming his dick now, knowing he’s treading over the line and could easily scare you off now if he’s not careful. But fuck being careful. He’s never really been careful before in his life. He hasn’t had to be. “An’ I’m serious. I told you, I like you.”

“Rafe, I… I just can’t shake the feeling that–”

“That what?” He spits into his palm before resuming touching himself. And shit, he doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s really just the sound of your voice that’s got him so goddamned horny. He wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself before. If you even knew how to.

“That you’re just playing a big joke on me. I mean, even the people from the Cut think I’m this weird, homeschooled freak.” You laugh, but he can tell you don’t find it funny, “It’s just hard to believe that you’d want to be my friend.”

“They think I’m a freak too,” he says, being honest for once. “Only difference is they don’t talk shit about me because they know I’d kill them.”

“You’re funny, Rafe.”

You’re too innocent to realise he’s not kidding. Not in the least.

“And if anyone says anything about you, I’ll kill them too. I’m serious.” Fuck, he feels like his dick’s gonna goddamn explode. The thought of protecting you like that, like he was responsible for you. Like you were all cute and helpless and he was the one taking care of shit, the one protecting you. That’s all he’s done his whole life, take care of shit and get shit done. And nobody’s ever fucking appreciated him for it.

“Well, thank you, Rafe. I’ve never had anyone stick up for me like that.”

He likes how you keep saying his name now that he’s told you he likes it when you say it. Means you’d be real good at taking instructions. He can imagine telling you what to do when he finally has you in his bed. Order you to get on your hands and knees. Then he’d spread your cute little ass, eat you from the back while you moaned his name over and over, thanking him for taking care of you, weeping how much you appreciate him, how much he means to you. How much you need him.

“A-Are you still there?”

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, I am.” His dick’s red and painfully hard, and he’s still trying to pump it steadily but now he’s imagining your tight little virgin cunt wrapped around it. Soft like velvet, warm and wet. Pulsating around him. Never had even a finger up there but you’d take his big dick, because he owned you, because he was your protector, because you were too weak and helpless without him, and–

“Could you, uh, fuck, say my name again,” he orders you, not caring in the least if he scares you off.

“Rafe?”

He cums into his fist like a goddamned teenage boy, biting down to keep from making any noise. God fucking dammit, you’d listened again. What a good fucking girl. He wants to tell you that, tell you how good you were for him just now, how obedient and submissive you were without even realising it.

“If you’re busy, it’s okay and you can go,” you say softly.

“No, wait…” he clears this throat, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his desk. He can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to him jacking off. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come over tomorrow? To hang out?”

“Like, uh, at your house?”

“Yeah.” He needs you in private, needs you on his turf where he can control just about everything. God, was it even about the bet anymore? Or just this newfound fucking irrevocable need to fuck you just for his own personal satisfaction? Maybe both.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been to a guy’s house before.”

That just makes him even more determined to be your first.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. We can go after your classes finish or whatever, and I’ll drive you home afterwards.”

“Rafe…”

He shuts his eyes for a moment, savouring the sound of your voice. He wonders if he can get you to call him daddy. God fucking dammit, just the idea of that was getting him hard again.

“Look, we’ll order some food, watch TV. Whatever you want. It’ll be fun. And it’s what friends do.”

That last part gets to you. He can tell. He knows how badly you want to have friends. He knows you’ve never had any. Not good, permanent ones like you saw in movies and TV shows. Hell, Rafe’s not sure he himself has real friends. But he doesn’t care. The idea of friendship means nothing to him. He’s best when he’s on his own because nobody else could be trusted. But what is important is having a girl like you in his bed. A girl like you who looks up to him with shining eyes, like he’s your goddamned entire world. A girl he plucked up from poverty and saved, and you’d appreciate him more than anyone in his dumb fucking family ever did.

“Say yes,” he all but orders you, but he already knows the answer before you say it.

“O-Okay, yeah. Yes, that sounds like fun. I’d love to come.”

*

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Topper frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, “You were supposed to bring the, you know…”

Rafe rolls his eyes, wondering why he’s friends with a fucking loser who can’t even say the word coke. That’s why nobody on the goddamned island wanted to sell to Topper. Hell, even Barry refused to.

“I have plans.” Rafe answers, checking his watch for the tenth time. Your final class of the day was due to end any minute now, and he couldn’t wait to get you into his house.

“What plans? You were gonna help me with Sarah tonight.” Topper was a whiny fucking bitch, but even Rafe had to admit he was a better fit for his sister than that lowlife John B.

“I’m not helping you with shit, man.” He mutters disinterestedly, although he had promised a few nights ago that he’d help him. He’d been high as a fucking kite, though. So it didn’t exactly count. “Look, she’ll get bored eventually when she realises his broke ass can’t provide shit for her. Then she’ll come crawling back.”

Topper shakes his head, “No, Sarah’s not materialistic like that.”

Rafe smirks, “You don’t know her.”

“Well, speaking of broke, how’s it going with that homeschool girl? You guys sure seem to be hanging out a lot.”

“Do you have brain damage, Topper?”

“What?”

Rafe corners his friend against a wall, relishing the immediate fear in his eyes, “I seem to remember you placing a bet a week ago.”

“Well, yeah, but –”

“So why the fuck,” he hits the locker lightly behind Topper’s head, “are you asking me about hanging out with her a lot?”

“Chill, dude. It’s just,” he looks hesitant, scared as he’s barely able to make eye contact, “It’s okay if you like her, you know?”

Rafe feels a wave of emotion, something he can’t quite pinpoint. And that makes him mad, because what the fuck was he feeling? He has to clench his fists by his side to stop from slapping the taste out of Topper’s mouth. Why did him bringing you up irritate him so much? Jesus, reign it the fuck in.

He takes a deep breath and steps back, forcing a chuckle, “You think I’m gonna slum it like that?”

Topper grins nervously, as if Rafe hadn’t had him pinned against a locker like a little bitch just a second ago. He straightens up, “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret what your type is.”

Rafe laughs, and Topper relaxes and joins in after a moment or two. That’s when Rafe slams him against the locker again.

“Get it through your thick fucking skull, Topper. I may fuck a Pogue but I’d never date one. Got that?”

“Yes, okay, Jesus Christ, man.” Topper pushes Rafe off him and backs off, “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

That’s when Rafe starts laughing again. “I will, pussy.”               

Topper fucks off after that. Sometimes, Rafe wonders what his deal is. He acted up in front of the rest of the group, then tried to act all sensitive and understanding in private. Like Rafe had time for that shit. And how dare Topper insinuate that Rafe had feelings for you? Hell would freeze over before he ever caught feelings for a Pogue.

He realises a bunch of people are staring at him. Goddamit. Fuck all of them. When he was younger, Ward had sent him to see a therapist once a week. He’d quit going once he’d realised it was everyone else who was the problem, and not him. But one thing the shrink had taught him that had stuck was to breathe slowly and count to ten whenever he felt angry or overwhelmed.

That’s what he’s doing when you arrive.

“Hey, Rafe. I’m sorry I’m late. The professor held me back.”

“Why?” He barks out before he can contain himself. He’s already on edge, and now some dumbass professor is keeping you back in class because you undoubtedly get his old, shrivelled dick hard and you’re too innocent to even realise it.

You blink, “He really liked the essay I submitted last week. He even said he wants to use it as an example for his other classes!”

“That’s great,” Rafe plasters a smile on his face but he’s only half listening, “Let’s go.”

He calms down some as he guides you out of the hallway and toward the parking lot. He almost grabs your hand when it gets a bit too crowded, but remembers himself just in time. He couldn’t be caught holding hands with a Pogue. It was too intimate, and like he’d said to Topper, he’d never let it get to that point with a Pogue. Instead, he places his hand on your lower back and pushes you forward. You smile at him, and it goes straight to his… well, not his dick, surprisingly. But it goes somewhere within him, and he feels it again. Something he doesn’t really recognise or know how to deal with. So he forcibly pushes it back inside himself.

“You look cute,” he says once he’s got you outside and there’s more room to breathe. You look like an angel in the afternoon sunlight, dressed in the cutest little sundress he’s ever seen. It’s this pinkish-orange, like the colour of the sunset, and you’ve got matching ribbons in your hair. Like you’ve really made an effort to get all dressed up just to go to his house.

“Thanks,” you look down as if you’re embarrassed, like you don’t know how to take a compliment, “It’s my mom’s dress.”

“It’s really pretty,” he says softly, before clearing his throat and looking away.

He gets you to his car, lifting you up by your waist and helping you into it. And that turns him on so much, how small and sweet you look. Like a little fairy in his arms. None of the other girls were like you. Not at all. He wonders what you’re wearing underneath, and feels his cock thicken in his slacks with anticipation when he realises he was probably going to find out today.

You don’t say anything when he pulls up into the driveway of his house. Ward had fucked off on some business trip and taken Wheezie and Rose with him so he had the place to himself. That’s how he liked it best, it gave him space to think and breathe without the constant noise of his family. Well, Wheezie was an exception. He didn’t mind her too much.

“Wait here,” he says, getting out the car and walking around to open the door for you. You allow him to lift you out again, this time your hands landing on his shoulders. And it’s fucking insane how that tiny, voluntary touch does things to him that no other girl has ever done before.

Now, he doesn’t think twice before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the large, ornate wooden double doors. You’re distracted anyways, eyes wide as saucers as you ogle the mansion that Rafe’s never thought twice about. But he reckons it’s a step or two above whatever shacks the people from the Cut lived in, so he allows you to remain silent and let it sink in.

Finally, you exhale slowly, “This is… uh… wow. I can’t believe there’s people in this world who live like this.”

Rafe smirks, squeezing your hand, “Yeah. Do you want a drink?”

He leads you to the bar in the corner of the living room, again lifting you up and placing you on one of the stools. You giggle, “I can climb on myself, you know.”

“Yeah? You seem to like it when I pick you up, though.”

He winks, and notes how you duck your head and smile shyly, your hands wringing together on your lap like you’re nervous. God, you were so fucking cute.

“What’s your usual drink of choice?” He asks, going behind the island to inspect the liquor. His friends had gone through a lot of it at the party the night before, but the house help had restocked everything this morning.

You blink, “Um, water?”

He stifles a laugh, pouring himself his usual whiskey with ice, “You’re a good girl, huh?”

“I tried some of my mom’s wine once but it tasted horrible,” you shrug, “I don’t know why people like it so much.”

“Try this.” He pours you a Peach Schnapps with lemonade and ice, “It’s sweet like you.”

You hesitate, but end up taking it. And he watches as you take a tentative sip, and he knows you like it because you take another one. And then another. He can’t help but feel proud for introducing you to your first alcoholic drink.

“You’re not as bad as people say you are,” you say out of nowhere, and his expression immediately sours.

“People have been talking about me to you?”

“No, it’s just the stuff I’ve heard. Like what I told you before. But it can’t be true, because you’re so nice to me so it just doesn’t add up.”

He grips his glass tight, about to lose it because yet again people were talking shit about him behind his back and never to his fucking face. Because they were all a bunch of pussies who knew he’d beat the shit out of them or kill them if they said anything to his face. But then you speak again.

“Do you always drink after school?”

“Huh?”

“Like, alcohol. Do you drink a lot? Like every day?”

“No.” He lies. “Only sometimes.”

He takes you out to the patio, where the sun is shining and you look so fucking pretty in your little sundress. Like you fit right into his world, next to the pool with a drink in your hand, sat next to him and looking at him with sparkling eyes as if he was your god. He wonders if you’ve naturally grown more comfortable with him through the course of the week, or if it’s just the alcohol. Probably the alcohol, since no one was ever really comfortable around him.

Either way, he puts his hand on your leg just like he had a few days ago in his car. Your breath hitches, but you don’t make a move to stop him. Instead, you opt to take another sip of your drink, and he wonders if he can get you drunk tonight. Shit, did he even want to? It was no fun fucking a drunk girl.

“Tell me more about you,” he strokes the soft skin of your bare thigh, feeling your goosebumps underneath the pads of his fingers. “You ever had a boyfriend or anything?”

Your eyes widen, “No. I, uh, you don’t tend to meet any guys when you’re homeschooled.” Embarrassed, you giggle before looking away. He reaches out, grabbing your chin lightly and making you look at him again. Fuck, your lips were so sexy. So pouty and perfect, begging to be kissed. “What about…what about you? Have you had any girlfriends?”

He shrugs, “A few.”

You nod, “Of course you have. That was a stupid question. Sorry, I forget not everyone’s as far behind in life as I am.”

“You’re not far behind.” He says, although you are and he prefers it that way.

“I am. Every other girl my age has had all the experiences you’re supposed to have. Drinking, partying, boys, all of it.” You sigh, “Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind that I’ll never catch up.”

Rafe inches his hand upwards, till he reaches the hem of your dress halfway up your thigh. He plays with the fabric, and he can tell you’re acutely aware of what he’s doing. You don’t make a move to stop him, but you do press your legs together.

“There’s still plenty of time to catch up,” he says softly, “I can help you.”

You smile up at him, holding up your drink, “You already have. I’d never drank with friends before now.”

“Congratulations,” he says, clinking his glass with yours, “To one of many firsts.”

He downs his drink and so do you, and he’s quick to get a refill for both of you. He’s guessing you’re a lightweight, and again the thought of getting you drunk crosses his mind. But that would be way too easy.

“I’m capping you after this one,” he says, handing you your second Peach Schnapps.

You giggle, “Are you gonna cap yourself too?”

“No.” He chucks you under the chin again, “But, see, I’m not a baby.”

“Hey!”

He kisses you. And shit, he hadn’t planned on catching you so off-guard. Hell, he’s caught himself off-guard. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help how kissable your lips looked, all pouty and bitten. And you taste like cherry lip gloss mixed with peaches and lemonade, and you’re so pliant underneath him, and he’s kissed a shit ton of girls but it’s never felt like this.

You pull away with a start, shocked as you stare up at him. Breathing hard and biting your goddamned lips before they turn into the shape of an o.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, although he’s not, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I first saw you.”

Your breathing is shallow, and with a shaky hand you put your glass down on the crystal table in front of you. “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“Well, it’s easy. I could show you.”

You swallow, “I don’t want this to be like, a pity thing.”

Rafe exhales slowly, “You’re here in front of me in this tiny fuckin” dress, acting all cute and innocent and you think I want to kiss you out of pity?”

Your jaw drops, “Hey, it’s not tiny!”

He kisses you again. And sure, maybe he should’ve asked permission since it’s, well, your first kiss. But frankly he’s never had to ask permission to do anything in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. The way he sees it, you wouldn’t have worn a slutty dress and agreed to come to his house if you didn’t want him to make a move on you.

Again, you pull away, “Rafe, I– don’t… I don’t know how to kiss, I’m sorry–”

He cups your face in his hands, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours again. Just to feel your soft, quivering lips against his confident ones. He kisses you once, twice, three times. Coaxing you to open your mouth, to let him in. Fuck, a part of him just wants to shove his tongue down your fucking throat, show you what it means to really be kissed. But he’s already pushing his luck right now.

“I’ll teach you,” he says, “But you need to do exactly what I say, okay?”

He can’t believe his goddamned luck when you nod. God, you were just so fucking hot, prancing around his house in your little dress, all impressed by his riches and shit, drinking your drink he made you like a good little girl, and now here you were, agreeing to whatever he said.

He taps his leg, “Get on my lap.”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, “Wh-What?”

Rafe smirks, “Didn’t you just agree to do exactly what I say?”

He’s surprised with the amount of patience he has with you. If you were another girl, he’d have thrown your ass out to the curb for asking too many annoying questions. Or bent you over, shoved your face into a pillow to shut you up and had his way with you. God knew he’d done that more times than he could count over the years. He was aware of how much bigger and stronger he was than you and every other girl, and that fact turned him on more than anything. The fact that he could, if he wanted to, completely take advantage of you however he wanted. And all you’d be able to do is cry and beg him to stop, which would just turn him on more.

“I did, I’m sorry, but I don’t–”

Easily, he grabs your hips and lifts you up onto his lap, makes you straddle him with one leg on either side of him. Your dress is just about long enough to still cover your modesty, but now he’s acutely aware of your panty-covered pussy just inches away from reach. Fuck, he wonders what kind of panties you’re wearing, and if you’d let him look…

“There. Comfy?”

“Well, I guess, but…”

He pulls you into another kiss, this time catching you mid-sentence so he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. And you’re so fucking shy, just rigid while he explores your mouth. But he doesn’t mind. You taste so fucking sweet, and it’s getting him so hard, knowing he’s the first man you’ve let touch you like this, kiss you like this.

He can feel your breath hitch as he strokes your face, his thumbs running across your cheeks before his hand tangles into your hair. He yanks you closer, grazing his teeth against your plump bottom lip. You gasp, and he chuckles into your open mouth. His tongue plays with yours, coaxing you to kiss him back, but not really caring too much if you don’t.

And god, he wants to thrust up into you so bad. You’re sitting right on top of his fucking hard dick, and you don’t even seem to realise it. In fact, you shift around, that cute little peachy ass rubbing against his boner, and he wonders if you even know what a boner is.

When you pull away this time, your eyes are bright and excited. And he loves how he’s kissed the gloss off your lips, and how he can still taste you on his tongue.

“Wow, that was…” you giggle, breathless yet excited from finally having your first kiss, “I don’t have anything to compare it to, but that was good!”

Rafe has to crack a smile at your innocence, and his hand lands on your bare thigh, tracing his initials on it again, “Yeah? You like kissing me?”

“I…um… yeah I do,” you say shyly, before closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, “Could we uh, could we try again? Could I try?”

Well, shit. He’s never devoted this much time and energy into just kissing a girl, but his dick grows even harder at how you’ve plucked up the courage to ask him that. And so he simply nods and sits back, lets you figure out what it is you want to do.

Your cute little hands hold on to his broad shoulders shyly. And you lean up, fluttering your eyes closed like it’s some kind of fairytale for you and you’re the little princess kissing her prince charming. It’s part enamouring, part pathetic. But Rafe feels it again, that unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in his chest. He shakes out of it, focusing on your plump lips that hesitantly press against yours.

He sits still; lets you explore his mouth. Your tongue pokes out, swipes against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick. And then he’s kissing you back, because he doesn’t have the goddamned willpower to just sit there and do nothing. There’s an animal inside of him and you’ve awoken it, more than any drug or alcohol ever could.

And he gets rougher, biting your lip till you gasp into his mouth. His hands slip up and down your bare arms before he takes your hand, squeezes it before pressing it down on his chest, wanting you to touch him, feel how much bigger he is than you.

“Good girl,” he mutters when you don’t move your hand, and then he fingers the hem of your dress. “Gonna let me touch you a little bit?”

“Rafe, maybe not too much–”

“C’mon, princess, you have to touch while you’re making out, right? That’s lesson number two.” He distracts you with another rough kiss, grabbing your jaw and squeezing while he brings you closer to his mouth. Kissing down your jaw and neck before returning to your lips, smirking when you squeak out a little involuntary moan. That’s when he slips his hand up your dress and cups your ass. Perfect little handful of your bubble butt, and he gives it a little squeeze to test the waters. You’re too distracted with kissing him, and so he squeezes harder. God, so fuckin’ soft and pliable, just like how he’d imagined.

“Nice ass,” he murmurs against your lips, and that’s what jolts you out of it. He curses inwardly when you pull away, pushing against his chest when he doesn’t immediately stop. And a part of him knows how easy it would be to just pin you down on this fucking sofa and have his way with you. Tell you how it’s your fault for wearing this fucking dress, your fault for seducing him in his own home, acting so sexy and innocent and getting him so riled up. Teasing him with your shy little kisses and squeaks till he had no choice but to hold you down and fuck you.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you slide off his lap, straightening your dress, “I just… I got overwhelmed.”

He blinks, and he’s this close to pulling you back on top of him, telling you he didn’t give you permission to stop, that you had to listen to him because this was his house and he’d been kind enough to invite you over. And he could make you feel so good, if you just stopped being a goddamned little prude.

Instead, he forces a smile, “You’re a pretty good kisser for someone who claims she’s never done it before.”

You beam, relaxing immediately, “Oh, you’re just saying that. I bet I was really bad.”

“My memory’s kinda foggy, I think you’re gonna have to remind me,” he pulls you back into him, and you giggle as he presses light kisses on your lips, his arm going around your shoulders while your hands tangle into his hair.

It doesn’t go any further than that, though. You stop him when he tries to touch you again, and a part of him wants to slam his fist down on the glass patio table in frustration. And yet, something stops him from just overpowering you and taking what he wants. No, that would be too easy. He’s about to crack you, he can tell from the way you look at him with those big eyes, now full of trust and comfort. He just needs more time.

Too bad he only had one day left to complete the goddamned bet.

“You should come over again,” he says when he’s done up your seatbelt for you in his car. He finds he likes doing all that shit – opening the door for you, lifting you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt into place, all of it. A stark difference from other girls, where often he’s tossed their clothes at them and motioned for them to leave after he’s done hooking up with them.

“That sounds nice,” you say, waiting for him to come round and get into the driver’s seat, “And I told you; you don’t have to drive me all the way home. I could’ve just got the bus.”

He blinks. He didn’t realise buses even functioned in Figure 8, but either way, he can’t have you on a public bus. Especially not in that dress, where every man would be leering at you and you’d be none the wiser about it. The control freak in him is itching to be let out, to tell you exactly what you were and weren’t allowed to wear in public, tell you how you weren’t allowed to speak to any men except him. And you weren’t allowed to argue or contest any of this, because he was in charge of you now, and–

“No buses,” he says firmly, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as he drives, “Anyways, come over again tomorrow. We can go in the pool or whatever.”

He feels you go rigid, “Th-The pool?”

He glances at you, “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

You laugh nervously, “Uh, I’m not too great with water. I don’t really swim or anything.”

Rafe has to do a double-take, “You realise you live on an island?”

Even he knew that every child born in Kildare could swim before they could even walk. It’s just the way it was. They were surrounded by water. Rafe doesn’t even remember learning how to swim; it was almost like he knew how to do it by default.

“I know how to swim, I just don’t like water,” you say, and there’s something off about your tone. Something he can’t pinpoint, but you turn to the side and look out the window. Silent for the rest of the drive. Rafe doesn’t push it, although your odd behaviour has piqued his curiosity.

It’s only when he’s pulling up into the pitiful dirt road of a street where your house is situated that you clear your throat.

“Look, Rafe, you’re my friend now. And I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry I was so quiet just now.”

Cute. He likes how much you apologise to him. It shows how respectful you are, how much you respected him as an authority figure.

“That’s okay,” he says.

You take a deep breath, “I used to go out in the water a lot when I was younger. With my dad. He had a boat, and I would help him. But…”

Your voice trails off for a moment. Rafe thinks he knows where this is going, and a part of him is touched you’d share something like this with him. A tiny, obscure part of him, that is. He can’t help but squeeze your leg reassuringly, and you clear your throat again and blink several times. Like you’re trying not to cry. And Rafe’s never had the patience for emotional chicks, but it’s different with you.

You force out a little laugh, “I don’t want to go into details. But one time we were out pretty far, and the weather was bad. Like, really bad. The waves were rough and…” You swallow, looking down into your lap and wringing your hands together, your chest rising and falling rapidly, “And… Well, I was fine but… my dad…”

Shaking your head, you don’t say anymore. You don’t have to. Your eyes are wet and glistening, the muscles in your face working overtime to stop the tears from coming out. He parks the car in front of your house, turning to face you. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he’s not sure how to act.

Fiercely, you wipe away the one or two rogue tears that have escaped down your cheeks, “It happened so long ago, I barely remember it. But I’ve been scared of the water ever since.”

He nods, “It’s just you and your mom now?”

“Yes. And my brothers. But they’re always working, so it’s just me and her. That’s why she’s so protective of me… I, uh, I don’t have a dad anymore.”

Rafe knows what it’s like to lose a parent, but he can’t fathom ever talking about it or voicing his feelings on it or some shit like that. His loser therapist had tried to get him to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It was just muscle memory at this point, to force any thoughts of her straight out of his mind. It was easier that way. And now, it was like he could barely remember her. And he hated it, but it made it easier too.

He’s never been good at comforting anyone else. And a part of him is glad you’re not sobbing your eyes out right now, because he’s not sure how he’d handle that. So he’s happy when you clear your throat again and smile up at him.

“I’m not sure why I told you that, I’ve never had a friend to tell that to before. I guess I just feel comfortable with you, Rafe.”

What the hell had he done to make you so trusting of him in the span of less than a week? God, you were like an innocent little angel, sitting in his car all tiny and vulnerable. Making him feel like a goddamned fucking monster for the thoughts he had towards you, what he planned to do with you. Suddenly, the bet feels so stupid and insignificant. God, this was why Rafe didn’t speak to the women he fucked. They went all emotional on him, and now he wasn’t sure how to act.

“I feel comfortable around you too,” he says carefully. He’s never been great with his words, but he grabs your hands that continue to wring nervously together. His big, warm hand dwarfing your tiny ones, and he realises you’re shaking. And there’s a part of him that wants to protect you against everything. Take you back to his place, lock you up in his room so he could keep an eye on you and keep you away from anything and anyone who could ever hurt you and make you cry.

Even if the only person who could hurt you the most right now is Rafe himself.

You leave after that, thanking him again and again for giving you a lift home. He wants to walk you to your door, but you run off quickly, and his mind’s too distracted to follow you. He drives off once he sees you’ve safely closed your front door behind you, his mind moving a million miles per minute.

Jesus Christ, why’d you have to go and open up to him like that? This would be so much fucking easier if you hadn’t done that. He hates that he should know better, that he knows that he should leave you alone. You were too innocent, too vulnerable for his bullshit; to be caught in the middle of some dumbass bet he’d made with his friends. God dammit, he hates himself for agreeing to that stupid bet, seems so fucking juvenile looking back. Wished he’d picked a different girl at the very least, someone not as lovely a you.

Most of all, he hates himself because he knows that despite everything he’s just found out about you, he still has every intention of fucking you. Daddy issues and a phobia of water. It was almost like fate was handing you to him on a silver platter. He had to fuck you. He’d figure out the rest later.

*

Kelce: One day left, loverboy.

Topper: Can’t wait to see the pictures.

Rafe mutes the groupchat before throwing his phone aside. He’d goddamn throttle his friends if they were in front of him right now. Sometimes, he gets these violent tendencies. He doesn’t really know what to make of them except it feels good to have some kind of release. Usually that comes in the form of pushing around a sorry ass Pogue, but that option’s not really available right now.

Instead, he searches blindly for the coke he’s stashed in his bedside drawer. Again, he’d promised himself he’d cut down, but this was just to take the edge off. It didn’t count. Not really.

He wonders what you’d think if you knew how often he took drugs. Well, you wouldn’t because he’d keep you well away from that part of his life. Even when he made you his girlfriend, he’d keep you separate from all the partying. And he’d never allow you to even look at any type of Class A drug. And who knows, maybe he’d become better for you, maybe he’d go stone cold sober if you wanted him to.

That makes him laugh. Going sober for a Pogue. It was insane of him to even consider it.

Again, he has to remind himself to take his emotions out of it. All you were was a stupid Pogue, and a part of a bet he was going to goddamned fulfil. And he wouldn’t allow himself to think anything more of it. He may have had a momentary lapse of judgement yesterday, but today was a new day, the last day of the week he had to fuck you.

How? He wasn’t too sure. Reports of a storm meant you couldn’t come to his house again like how he’d planned. Even now, Rafe could hear the harrowing winds outside. Like a goddamned cyclone. And the rain pelting down unforgivingly, and the distant roar of the sea, waves crashing like they’d taken on a life of their own.

The weather on the island was usually all sunshine, but once in a blue moon a storm would hit like now. Residents were always told to wait it out and stay inside. For Rafe, that meant copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Sometimes a girl or two to keep him company. But the idea of fucking anyone that isn’t you right now makes him sick.

He thinks about texting you, but what would be the goddamned point? If he couldn’t physically be with you today? He knows the weak, pussy part of his mind just wants to talk to you in whatever form he can. But he needs to bury that bullshit down deep inside him and never back, and–

His phone vibrates. It’s you. And he hates how he feels his heart jump to his fucking throat. You’ve called him all on your own, which means you were thinking about him like how he was thinking about you.

“Rafe?” You sound sexy like you always do, all breathy and weak and needy. A bit panicked too.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I called you, I just… How are you?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m fine. You wanna talk?”

“No. I mean, yes. Oh, I… Rafe, I’m sorry. You’re probably busy.”

“Hey, calm down.” Rafe barely recognises the gentle quality of his voice as he straightens up, “What’s wrong, princess?”

“I’m scared.”

You say it so softly, with an air of embarrassment and shame, that at first he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying. But then he does, and something kicks in inside him. This innate need to protect you. You sound so small and needy on the phone, and you called him. You need him.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“No, no. Oh, Rafe, it’s the storm. It keeps getting worse.”

He chuckles in relief that you weren’t in any immediate danger, “Well, shit. Yeah. Looks pretty wild, huh?”

“I hate it,” you whimper softly, “and I’m sorry I called. But my mom’s stuck at work, and my brothers are crashing somewhere else. So it’s just me, and, and…”

“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He’s never had to comfort anyone before, but it comes naturally with you. “As long as you stay inside, the storm should pass. Just watch TV or something.”

“The lights are gonna go off any second,” you sniffle, “They always do when the weather gets bad.”

They did? Rafe never noticed shit like that. Then again, he doubts you had the luxury of backup generators where you lived. He pauses.

“Gimme twenty minutes. I’ll come over.”

“No!” You say quickly, “Rafe, it’s too dangerous.”

He snorts. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than a little bad weather. But the less you knew about that, the better. “I think I’ll be okay, princess.”

“B-But we’re not allowed out. You’ll get a fine.”

Rafe can’t count on one hand how many times he’d been fined by the dumbass police on this goddamned island over some petty bullshit reason or another. A fine meant nothing to someone with money. He was above the law, and most people on this island knew it.

“Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”

Rafe actually enjoys driving in the storm. The roads are deserted, and he can speed without worrying about anything else. And he does speed, and he runs more than one red light too. Gets to your house quicker than he thought he would. Past all the other tiny shacks all boarded up because they weren’t built well enough to withstand the storm.

“Rafe! You came!”

You sound like a fucking needy little baby, but something pulls at his heart when you hug him harder than you ever have before. And you’re so small, on your tippy toes so your arms reach around his neck. Automatically, his arms wind around your waist and he holds you close, and he can feel you trembling, your face buried in his chest as you hold on to him tightly.

“Yeah. Roads were empty. Didn’t take long.” He mutters, looking around the inside of your house. Pitiful. And pitch black, because you were right, the power had gone out. He hates that you live here. You’d fit in so much better at Tannyhill, in a pretty pink silk dressing gown and dripping with diamonds he’d buy for you. And you’d be so thankful for him, tell everyone that he saved you, how well he took care of you. How he gave you everything you could ever want, and how much you appreciated him.

At that moment, a clap of thunder makes you jump and squeal. Quickly, you pull him inside and shut the door. That’s when he notices that you’re crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” He pulls you into another hug, and he’s never seen another human being look so scared, so vulnerable. It makes him feel so powerful, like the man he knew you needed. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

It feels natural, his lips pressing a kiss into your hairline. Like you’re his little baby, like he’s been trusted with something so precious and now he has to protect you. And you’re too scared to be your usual jumpy self, and you just snuggle closer into him. A flash of lightning lights up the whole room, the storm relentless against the weak confines of this sorry excuse of a house.

“Maybe we should head back to mine.” He suggests, but you whimper again.

“No, no, we can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Rafe, please.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen another human being so scared before. Not even when he was fucking that one girl after he’d showed her his gun. Even now, he consciously tucks his gun further down the waistband of his chinos. Of course he’d brought it with him, he wasn’t going to enter the Cut without a piece on him.

“Okay, okay. We’ll stay here. When’s your mom coming home?”

“Not till tomorrow once the storm’s died down.”

He licks his lips. It was too good to be true.

You’re still holding on to him as you lead him into your bedroom. He wonders why you’d take him straight there, but he guesses it’s your safe place. And you’ve got candles lit up, and they brighten the room enough for him to notice how small it is. The size of a shoebox, with a single bed covered in pink sheets and a bunch of stuffed animals.

Despite everything, his dick hardens.

“You’re a really good friend, Rafe.” You say honestly, “Nobody else would’ve come over like this.”

He shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed and patting the mattress next to him. It’s not even his house and yet he feels like he needs to take control. And you obey, taking a seat next to him. But you’re preoccupied with your own fear, doing that thing where you fidget with your hands in your lap.

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip like you can’t quite believe what he’s said, “I-I’m not special, Rafe, I–”

You’re cut off by another clap of thunder, this one so loud it makes the whole house shake. You scream bloody murder, and honestly, if you were anyone else Rafe would’ve laughed. But it’s you, and so he just watches. It’s fascinating, the way you clutch onto him like he’s your saviour, and he wonders just how this opportunity had basically just fallen into his lap.

He pulls you into his lap, knowing you won’t protest. Not in the state you’re in. You’re wearing a pair of black leggings and a little white tank top. No bra, because he can feel your nipples, hard and poking out from the fabric of your top. He can feel them against his chest as he hugs you again, and he can also feel you shifting on top of him. Your peachy little ass rubbing against his dick like you’re a fucking tease except he knows you’re none the wiser, that you have no idea the effect you have on him.

He’s so turned on, it feels like he might explode.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise for the umpteenth time, “It’s just so scary. Wh-What if the storm gets worse, Rafe?”

“It probably will,” he says, feeling slightly wicked. He holds you tighter against him, wanting to feel the brush of your breasts against his chest again. Fuck, he wants to cop a feel so bad. “They were saying something about a severe weather warning on the news. Not like anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“Noooo,” you moan like a goddamned baby, cuddling into him even more.

“It’s okay,” he says, running his hand up and down your back, “You ever, uh, you ever think of distracting yourself from the storm?”

You hiccup and blink up at him with wet eyes, “Nothing works, Rafe.”

He smirks, “I could distract you.”

“H-How?”

He runs his thumb over your lips. They’re wet with your salty tears, and yet like muscle memory, you part them for him. You watch him in wonder, your breathing shallow as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, his other hand holding you in place by your hip.

“Suck.” He instructs gently, and your eyes are as big as saucers. But in your frightened, vulnerable state, you obey immediately. And it feels like he’ll bust a nut right there, watching as you suck his thumb on command like a little fucking baby. Like he’s your daddy.

“Good girl,” he says, stroking your hair out of your face so he can watch you better. “Now listen to me, I can help you. I can distract you so that you forget all about the storm. Do you want that?”

You nod slowly, almost like you’re entranced by him. Not that he needs the green light from you, but it’s hot to see you agree so easily to whatever he’s saying. Fuck, you really were just like an angel fallen straight from heaven and into his lap. Perfect for him in every single way. So soft, so impressionable. Completely untouched. Ready to be ruined.

“That’s good,” he mutters vaguely, thinking of everything he was going to do to you. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, noticing how you pout involuntarily, like you’d gotten used to the feeling of sucking on it. Fuck, he could give you something else to suck on. “Give me a kiss.”

“H-Huh–”

“Do it. Just like how I taught you yesterday. You remember our lesson, don’t you?”

You nod, “Yeah, but will that really work? I mean–”

It’s like God himself is on Rafe’s side because there’s a loud boom of thunder at that exact moment. And you jump in his lap, tears welling in your eyes. Your chest rises up and down, and you bite your lip again, your gaze zeroing in on his mouth. Slowly, you lean up, shyly pressing your lips on his. But there’s a desperation to it, and Rafe’s returning kiss completely envelopes you whole.

He makes out with you for a while, smirking through your little pants and moans mixed with a whimper every time the weather gets especially brutal outside. He’s never been with such a goddamned scaredy cat baby before in his entire life, and it turns him on beyond belief. In the state you’re in, he could get you to do anything.

Rafe’s hands slip up to grab your little top, tugging it upwards. And this time, he almost loses it in frustration when again, you stop him.

“Rafe, Rafe no stop.” You push his hands off, straightening your top back over your midriff. “Couldn’t we just… just kiss?”

He presses his lips together in a thin line, “You trust me?”

“Of course, I just don’t know if I want to–”

“Look, didn’t I say I would distract you? I mean, shit, I could just leave.”

Your jaw drops, a flash of fear glimmering in your eyes. Instinctively, you grab onto his bicep with your tiny hands, a pleading look on your face, “No, don’t!”

He smirks, “I won’t leave. But you need to trust me to do what I need to do to distract you. Because the storm’s just gonna get worse.” He grabs your chin when you avert your gaze, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, c’mon. Who has more experience with this shit, you or me?”

“Y-You.”

“Yeah. And who’s older?”

“You are.”

“That’s right. Which means you need to trust me to make these kinds of decisions, because I know what’s best for you. That’s why you called me over, right?”

You don’t say anything, but this time when he tries to take your top off, you don’t protest. And Jesus fucking Christ, he was right. You’re not even wearing a bra, almost like you were deliberately trying to seduce him. Acting like a whiny little damsel in distress, pulling him into your pitiful little pink room, all candlelit and shit, on your little bed with your stuffed fucking animals.

Your nipples are hard, and he can’t help but cup your breasts. They’re so tender, so soft just like you. He’d imagined this exact moment many times over the course of the week whilst he’d jacked off to you, but nothing could compare to now. The way you tremble beneath his touch, knowing no one’s ever touched you like this before. He squeezes gently, watching how your breath hitches.

He’s overcome with animalistic instinct in just a second, and leans down to take your breast into his mouth. Sucks your nipple sweetly, before biting down. You cry out, arching your back so prettily, feeding him more of your nipple as you push it into his mouth. He bets you probably don’t even understand why it feels so good, having never been touched like this ever before.

He pinches your other nipple and you gasp. He smirks and does it again, looking up at you to see you gazing imploringly down at him.

“Th-That hurts,” you say pitifully.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” He takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his hair. Like a good little girl, you get the message. Your hands fist into his hair as he continues to play with your tits, licking and sucking all over them, pushing them together, biting your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin around them, wanting to leave his mark everywhere.

“Rafe, I, that… oh… oh my–”

“Stand up, baby.”

You squeak at the pet-name that falls so naturally from his lips, and he can tell you like being called that. It’s from the way your eyes widen, and how you scramble to obey. God, you were a little tease but you took instructions so fucking well.

You stand between his legs, and it gets him so fucking hard that you’re still barely eye level with him even when he’s sat down.

“Take your leggings off.”

You open your mouth to argue, but this time he just flashes you a look and you’re quick to shut the fuck up. That, and he distracts you with his hands running up and down your sides, squeezing your waist, then your hip. Finally landing on your ass with a light slap as if to tell you not to keep him waiting.

You push your leggings down and step out of them, till you’re standing between his legs in just your pink flowery panties and nothing else. And he feels a hunger he’s never ever felt before, looking down at you ravenously as if you’re a piece of meat and he’s a goddamned starved lion. A part of him just wants to grab you and stick his cock inside you while you scream and thrash and beg him to stop while you secretly enjoy it and cum again and again.

“Turn around,” Rafe says slowly, because despite his animalistic thoughts, he wants to savour this. And you do, letting him see your sexy butt adorned in just your panties. He hooks his thumb under the elastic, snapping it against your skin and laughing crudely when you yelp. “God, you’ve got such a perfect ass. I knew that since the moment I saw you.”

“Wh-What?”

“You heard me. You’re always wearing the cutest little outfits, like you were showing it off just for me.” He grabs your left ass cheek, squeezing it hard while you moan in pain or pleasure, right now he doesn’t really give much of a fuck. His other hand palms his cock through his pants at the sight.

“I wasn’t!” You say indignantly, as if he’s accused you of the absolute worst. “I wasn’t showing off, Rafe!”

“Sure you weren’t,” he snorts, “Now bend over, lemme see it better.”

He can’t believe it when you don’t hesitate this time, almost like you’re seeking his approval. Like you’re under some kind of submissive spell now, making everything even easier for him. You bend over, and your cute little ass is directly in his face. He pushes your panties to the side, gives the soft flesh a feather-light kiss before spanking you again. You yelp all cutely, but stay in position for him. What a good fucking girl.

“Stand up straight, look at me again.”

You turn back around, biting your lip as you look at him anxiously. Around you, the whole room seems to vibrate as another boom of thunder strikes. You make a noise in your throat, before grabbing onto his bicep again. You keep doing that, and it makes him feel strong, big, important. Like you’re a little baby seeking protection from her daddy.

“I’m gonna take your panties off now, okay?” He doesn’t know why he tells you before he does it, but he watches as you relax. There’s a war going on behind your eyes, he can tell. He knows part of you is liking how he’s making you feel, and part of you is desperate to distract yourself from the storm, and it’s battling the part of you that wants to keep your modesty, the part that knows this is a bad idea, that itching fear that he’s not a good guy, that he’s taking advantage of you.

Slowly, he slips your panties down your shaking legs, and you keep holding on to his arm like you’re scared to let go. Like the storm would come and get you the moment you stopped holding him like a little baby. He lets you, liking how weak you feel against him.

And then you’re completely naked in front of him, stepping shyly out of your panties that are left on the floor in a heap along with the rest of your clothes. And he’s still fully dressed, and that juxtaposition turns him on beyond belief. He can smell your pussy, and it’s driving him crazy. Makes him want to just pin you down and have his way with you. It incenses him in a way he’s never really experiences before.

His hands grab your hips, yanking you closer. He feels a wave of impatience, pushing you down till you’re sitting on the bed. He gets up, pushing your legs apart with one of his own. You gasp, and he sinks down to his knees, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just below your belly button.

“It’s time for lesson number three, baby,” Rafe murmurs softly, “this is how I’m gonna distract you, okay? Shit, I’m gonna make you feel so good, you’ll forget all about the storm. You gonna let me do that?”

You swallow, “H-How, Rafe?”

God, you were absolutely clueless. Made him feel like a fucking monster for taking advantage of you like this. But he liked it, liked how good and sweet and innocent you were, even now when he had you naked on your pretty princess bed with your legs spread for him.

“I’m gonna kiss you down here for a while, alright baby?”

“Down there?” You suck in your breath prettily, as if the very idea of that sounds so insane to you. God fucking dammit, just how much had your mother sheltered you?

Instead of explaining further, Rafe spreads your folds with two of his fingers, smirking when he sees you glistening and wet. And God, what a pretty and perfect pussy you had, all slippery and wet, like it was begging to be fucked. And even now, as you sit there breathing heavily, your pussy seems to get wetter just by him spreading it. You’re leaking down onto your pretty pink sheets, and it’s all because he’s merely touched you there.

You’ve gone silent, the storm seemingly already forgotten as you just watch him. Your chest rises up and down, and it’s like every other part of you is frozen in place. In awe, until he notices a slight movement in your pelvis. Involuntarily, you hump the air, like your poor pussy is begging for some type of contact or friction. He smirks.

“You have an accident, princess?”

You look absolutely aghast, “No!”

Rafe leans forward, inhaling deeply. And you smell so goddamned sweet, and he can’t wait any longer. He lays his tongue flat against your virgin cunt, and he can feel you throbbing with anticipation. He licks upwards, and you grab onto his hair, tugging hard as you yelp.

“Oh my God–”

He looks up, “Not God, baby. Just me.” Absentmindedly, he flicks your clit with his thumb and your entire body jerks. He chuckles, “And there’s another thing I’m going to need you to do.”

“What?”

“You’re going to call me daddy while I eat your cunt, okay?”

For the fifth time this evening, your jaw drops, and you gaze down at him in indignance, “What? But Rafe, you’re not my–”

“Your daddy? I mean, you do want me to take care of you, don’t you?” He smiles when you don’t immediately respond, “That’s why you called me today. Because you felt unsafe, like how you’ve felt your whole life ever since you lost your real daddy, isn’t that right?”

He half expects you to shove him off you, scream, lose it, slap him, kick him out of your house for going there, for trying to take advantage of your obvious daddy issues. But it’s like you’re in a trance, and he keeps going, “You want someone to take control, to reassure you that everything’s gonna be okay. That’s why you’ve let me take care of you this whole week, right? Because you need me, you like how I make you feel.”

He softly strokes your bare thighs, noticing that you’re shaking under his touch. And you look like you’re about to cry, in your most vulnerable state in front of him. And yet he keeps going, his voice like a calm lull, almost hypnotic with how you look at him with your huge, unblinking eyes.

“I can be your new daddy, princess. You’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

Rafe doesn’t wait for your response. Instead, he grips your thighs harder, spreading them as far as they’ll go. He spits on your mound, watching his saliva drip down to your pussy. You’re watching too, with stricken, hooded eyes. Like you’re frozen in time and space, and he’s the only constant.

Leaning forward, he envelopes your clit between his lips, giving it a harsh suck. Your entire body convulses, and you moan the loudest he’s ever heard you. Thunder claps at the same time, but you’re louder than it, and your hands grab on to his hair, and you press your cunt into his face, practically smothering him but he fucking loves it.

“Tell daddy to lick your cunt,” he orders, his voice deeper and lower than it’s ever been, and a slight threat in his tone, “say it, or else I’ll stop everything.”

“L-Lick it, please,” you beg so prettily, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe sits back, looking at you expectantly till you make the prettiest little noise of impatience. You shoot him a pleading look of desperation, but he doesn’t let up. You cry out, gripping his hair harder before ducking your head in shame, “P-Please, okay? Please lick my cunt, daddy.”

Rafe could’ve orgasmed right there at the sound of your sweet, delicate voice pleading with him, finally addressing him as daddy. Instead, he sucks hard on your sensitive, engorged clit, and you scream bloody murder. He snickers against your soaking folds, grabbing your thrashing hips, stilling them slightly but allowing you to rock them against his face till it’s shining with your wetness.

“Messy little girl,” he mutters, “excited, aren’t you? Never had this virgin pussy eaten, huh?” he grows sloppy, messy with his licks. Tonguing your sensitive nub till you’re a writhing mess above him, incoherent little gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth as you continue to hump against his face because you’re a goddamned virgin who doesn’t know how to act because you’re feeling so good.

Rafe’s practically making out with your pussy, and he’s never enjoyed going down on a girl as much as he is right now. It’s how responsive you are, it’s how this is all so new to you so you don’t even know nor care to hold anything back. You’re rubbing your pussy on his face like all you can think of is how good he’s making you feel. And he fucks you with his tongue, unable to quite believe how sweet you taste. Like an angel, his angel. All his.

“It’s…It’s too much, Rafe!” you cry out, and yet you’re rolling your hips with abandon, riding his tongue while he sucks and licks you out like he’s starved.

“You can take it,” his voice is muffled, and you try to wrap your thighs around his head except his grip on them is too strong. It’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingers all over your soft skin, but he likes that. He wants to bruise you, mark you, make you his in every way possible. So next time when you wore a slutty little sundress, every goddamned man on this island would know you’re taken. Fuck, he’d get his name tattooed on your goddamned pussy, and–

You cum, squeaking so prettily he wants to bottle up the sound and keep it safe in his memories forever. Your first orgasm, and all it took was a couple of minutes of him eating your cunt. And your muscles squeeze around his tongue, and you cry and moan like you don’t even know what’s happening. Your grab at his hair, pulling so hard because you’ve probably never felt like this before.

And Rafe doesn’t stop, his tongue swirling circles while you hump and grind against his mouth, riding out your orgasm, moaning his name over and over again. Outside, the weather gets worse, and at one point he notes the whole room shakes as if the goddamned roof’s about to blow off. You don’t give a fuck though, and he doesn’t either.

“Oh, Rafe, oh, oh oh, it’s too much!”

Now, you’re trying to push him off you, but selfishly he keeps tongue-fucking you. His thumb rubs your engorged, sensitive clit. He knows it’s too much for you, but he’s too fucking turned on to stop.

“C’mon, baby. Don’t be like that. Lemme give you another one.”

“No, I-I can’t, I, oh fuck!”

He slaps your clit, and a squelching sound fills the room. You gasp, and he just snickers, having entirely too much fun with you. And again, you twitch your hips, inadvertently pushing your cunt into his face again. You’re out of breath and sensitive from your first orgasm, and yet your greedy little pussy wants to give him another one.

“You like it when your daddy slaps your cunt?”

You’re such a shy little thing, gaping at him as if he’s said the most insidious thing on earth. And yet, your cunt squeezes around his tongue, and he you up as you continue to leak into his mouth. He looks up at you, “Tell me you like it.”

“I, uh, I like it, uh… daddy, oh gosh!”

It takes just one more spank and you come undone, cumming all over his face and he licks you throughout. Long, languid stripes of his tongue flat against your wet folds, then he switches to fucking you with it, and your fuckhole’s so goddamned tight, his tongue barely even fits a little bit, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s got one hand slipped down his pants, jacking off because this is the hottest thing in the world he’s ever witnessed. Innocent little baby crying after orgasming from getting her pussy spanked by her daddy.

He feels like a lion closing in on the fucking lamb, forgetting himself for a second as he gets up. Aggressively pushing you down till you’re lying flat on the bed, surrounded by your stupid stuffed animals. In a second, he’s on top of you, breathing hard like a man possessed. God fuck, all he had to do was shove it inside you, hold you down and tell you to take it. Maybe press his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. Nobody could save you from him tonight.

But you blink up at him so prettily, so unaware of his intentions, your eyelashes wet with tears. Your lips bitten and pouty, face shiny with sweat. Your hands grab his arms again, squeezing like you’ve grown used to doing.

“R-Rafe, that was… wow.” You say breathlessly, so blissfully innocent, not realising at all that he’s moments away from holding you down and fucking you, that he’s planning how he’ll do it in his head this very moment. “I never… I never thought it could feel that good.”

Rafe finds himself feeling that again, that weird feeling that kept bubbling up inside his chest from time to time whenever he was with you. He still doesn’t have a name for it; he can’t even properly describe it. But looking down at you now, watching you stare up at him with those shining eyes of yours. All he can do is push a piece of your hair out of your face, and smile slowly down at you.

“What do you even know about sex, baby?” He breathes, his face so close to yours.

“Oh, well, uh… Not that much. I mean obviously I know how it works. I just… I didn’t know you could call someone da– that.”

He smirks, tapping your cheek condescendingly, “You mean daddy?”

You look embarrassed, “Yeah.”

“I need you to keep calling me that, okay?” Rafe says gently, “It’s completely normal and I told you I’d take care of you from now on. You want that, don’t you?”

Again, he nudges at your lips with his thumb, making you suck it. Which you do, and the feeling goes straight to his dick. He wants to fuck you while you suck his thumb, gently rock his hips into you, your tight pussy squeezing his huge cock while you whimper around his thumb, sucking it while you cried and just took it, took whatever he gave you and then said thank you, daddy like the good little girl you were.

He starts kissing you again, unable to help it. And your response is so enthusiastic, he feels like he might explode. You’re getting more confident with all the kissing stuff, and Rafe likes that it’s all because of him.

“You ready for the next lesson, baby?” He asks between kisses, his hands everywhere all over your naked body. Squeezing your breasts, playing with your ass. Loving that you’re naked beneath him and so willingly too.

You swallow harshly, “I don’t think I’m ready–Oh!”

He takes your hand, pressing it inside his slacks. Right on his hard, throbbing dick. And fuck, it feels so small, so weak against his pulsating cock. He bites his lip hard to keep from thrusting into your hand.

“Take it out.”

“N-No!”

He exhales loudly through his nose, holding your hand tight against him when you try to snatch it away. “Baby, what did I tell you about doing what I say?”

“I-I know but… but I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” he says, “but you need to do this, alright? Didn’t I make you feel good just now?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“So just trust me. I’ll make you feel good again, okay baby?” He kisses you lightly once, twice, three times till you smile, “You’ve been such a good girl tonight. So brave for me....”

You hiccup, looking up at him with those goddamned saucer-like eyes again, “R-Really?”

He strokes your cheek, innately aware of your hand relaxing against his cock, “Yes. Such a brave, good girl. You forgot all about the storm outside, didn’t you?”

As if on cue, you whimper and cuddle into him more. He smiles like a goddamned wolf, feeling evil yet desperate at the same time, “Call me daddy again, princess.”

You don’t even fucking hesitate, “d-daddy, I–”

“Take daddy’s cock out, baby. It’ll distract you, I promise.”

You do exactly what he says, and he helps you. He can’t help but hiss when you free his dick from the confines of his slacks, and you gasp too, dropping it immediately when you see it.

“Shit, gimme your hand,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t wait this time. Snatching your hand in his, he spits down into your palm before pressing it on his dick. “Stroke it.”

You pull back, “I don’t know how, I don’t–”

“Do it or I’ll leave right the fuck now.”

 In your helpless daze, you whimper before placing your hand back on his dick. And it’s so red, about ready to explode the moment you touch him. He exhales slowly, and it feels so fucking good, and he covers your hand with his, guiding it, making you stroke him up and down.

“That’s so good, baby. You’re so good.”

“I am?”

“Shit, yeah, just keep doing that. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He notes how you grow more confident, rubbing his dick and jacking him off like a good little girl. His hand leaves yours, instead cupping your face as he pulls you in for another kiss. He can’t help kissing you, you taste so fucking sweet and it’s insane because he’s never particularly enjoyed kissing anyone this much before. But he loves kissing you, leading you through it, guiding you. Loves how responsive you are, loves how you listen to him even when you feel all scared and hesitant. As if you know that at the end of the day, he was the one with all the power, the one in charge. The only one who knew how to take care of you.

“You ever seen a cock before this, princess?” He asks crudely between kisses.

Your eyes widen, “N-No, Rafe– I mean, uh, daddy.”

“No? Good girl. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He bites your pouty bottom lip, and you gasp, squeezing his dick in your hand and it makes him moan straight into your fucking mouth. What a naughty girl.

“It’s, uh, it’s so big,” you say quietly, so quietly that Rafe almost doesn’t catch it. But he does, and he smiles, pulling back slightly.

“Yeah?”

Shyly, you duck your head, “Yeah, daddy.”

God, you were so fucking irresistible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He takes your hand, which was still steadily pumping his dick, and holds it tightly. Holds both your hands by your sides as he nudges your legs apart again, and watches as you take a deep breath, as if you know what’s coming.

Lowly, he whistles at how wet you are, your juices having leaked down to stain your pink sheets again. Rafe’s never had a virgin before but he knows how eager they are, how easily turned on they get. He can imagine how slippery wet and snug your snatch would be around his dick. Now, he swipes a finger down your slit, gathering your wetness while you squirm under him.

“Aww, look how excited your pussy is, princess.” He snickers, bringing his finger up to your lips, smearing them with your wetness, getting it all over your face too till it shines and you’re all messy. “Tell me, what’s got her so wet?”

‘I don’t know.”

SMACK.

Rafe finds he quite enjoys slapping your cunt, especially when it’s so wet and throbbing. You cry out, quivering and shaking underneath him. He flashes you a look, “Answer the question.”

“You,” you breathe, blinking up at him, “You, daddy.”

“Yeah? I get your pussy wet?” He’s working himself up, his dick nudging against your folds and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t just shove it in there. “Tell me why.”

You moan pleadingly, “R-Rafe, please!”

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it properly,” he says, enjoying himself a bit too much. It was payback for all the times you’d teased him without even realising it this past week. Flaunting your sexy little body, blinking up at him with those fuck me eyes, as if you were just begging for it in your own little innocent way.

You swallow harshly, and despite everything he can see you thinking carefully, as if you want to give him a real proper answer to impress him. Cute.

“I, uh, I like how big you are,” you stutter slowly, “you-you’re a lot bigger than me.”

He grins wolfishly, pushing his hair out of his face before pressing a greedy kiss to your lips, which you respond to fervently. But he pulls away all too quickly, looking down at you as if he expects you to continue.

“I like how strong you are,” you’re looking anywhere but at his face, he guesses because you’re too shy. He sponges kisses down your jaw, your neck, down to your chest. Kisses all over your tits, presses them together and licks them, bites at your nipples while you moan between your words. “You make me feel safe, daddy.”

Rafe pauses, and it’s there again. That stupid fucking feeling that he doesn’t understand, nor does he care to understand it right now. Nobody’s ever felt safe with him before. Everyone’s always been afraid of him or hated him or screwed him over because they didn’t trust him. No one’s ever looked at him how you’re looking at him and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.

But he shoves those feelings straight back down, clears his throat before pressing his finger down between your folds. You shiver and moan, hips bucking up before he pins them in place. He tries pushing his pointer finger inside you, but is met with resistance despite how soaking wet you are. Fuck.

“Tightest pussy I ever had,” he mutters, “but she’ll take daddy’s dick, won’t she?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and he ignores your soft cries as he forces his finger up your cunt. Till it’s finally knuckle-deep, and he bets you can feel the cool silver of his ring against your warmth. And your pussy’s so fucking snug, gripping his finger like a vice, and even he has to wonder how he’d possibly fit his big dick inside you.

“So full,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. But he shuts you up soon enough when he starts fingering you. One singular finger, because that’s all that fits. But he moves it in and out, curving upwards till you moan, thrusting your hips in rhythm like you can’t even help it.

“Gonna add another one, okay baby?”

‘W-Won’t fit, daddy.”

“Shh, yes it will. Daddy’s gonna make it fit.”

Rafe makes it fit. He has to hold you down while you cry like a baby, but soon he’s got his index and middle finger shoved inside you, finger-fucking your tight, virgin cunt while his hard dick slaps against his stomach, and he’s so fucking turned on. More than he’s ever been in his whole life.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He murmurs into your ear, nibbling at it, licking inside it and making you jump. And fuck, you’re so jumpy, and he has to keep you pinned down while he fingers you, and a sick part of him wonders if he’s drawn blood already.

“H-Hurts,” you whimper like the goddamned little cry-baby you are. “R-Rafe please slow down.”

“Come on, don’t tell me to slow down,” he continues pumping his thick fingers up your slippery wetness, feeling like you’re swallowing them up whole every time, “Not when you’re drippin’ all over your sheets like a little–”

“But it hurts!”

“That’s okay, it’s supposed to hurt,” he explains slowly, like you’re dumb, “it’s because you’ve never done this before, so that’s why I gotta stretch you out like this first, okay?”

A lone tear meanders down your cheek, “I-I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Rafe.”

“I made ‘em fit, didn’t I?”

“Nooo, you’re, uh, I mean your…” You sniffle helplessly, a wild look in your eye that looks half scared, half confused as he bets your body’s starting to betray you.

Rafe feels a smile creep up on his face, “You already thinkin’ about my cock, sweetheart? How it’s gonna feel when it’s up your virgin cunt?”

You shake your head vehemently, but you’re a little angel slut because your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers. “Rafe, no. Your f-fingers, they’re already too much, I don’t think I can take…”

“Didn’t I just tell you I’d make it fit?”

You grip his arm tightly, pleadingly “Y-You’re too big, I-I don’t think I can handle anymore…Oh fuck!”

He knows he’s hit that spot inside you because your whole back arches, and you let out the hottest moan he’s ever fucking heard in his life. Complete abandon, head thrown back, digging your nails so hard into his arm that he’s sure you’ve broken through his skin.

“That’s right, baby girl. Just fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, increasing his pace, wondering if he can fit a third finger in. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking your daddy’s fingers like a champ. God, look at your little virgin cunt, swallowing ‘em up like a greedy little slut. Didn’t think you’d turn out to be so fuckin’ slutty, baby.”

You clench around him, moaning his name and he can’t believe how much his dirty talk is having an effect on you. His thumb rubs at your clit while he continues to finger fuck you, wanting to draw another orgasm out of you because you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum, and he wants you to make a mess all over his fingers before he finally takes you with his cock.

“Too much, too much, oh, oh, oh,” you’re half delirious, humping against his fingers, letting him fuck you with them, and he knows you must feel so full. And it feels like heaven for him, being inside you (even if it is just with his fingers). You feel so soft, so wet, so warm. Your muscles tensing and relaxing around him as he builds you up.

“Take it,” Rafe repeats, “bet it’s never felt this good huh? You ever finger yourself, baby girl? Touch yourself late at night when you think everyone else’s asleep?”

You gasp at his words, but he feels you clench around his digits.

“Mmm, not such a good little girl after all, huh? Fingering yourself when you think your mommy’s asleep,” he grins wickedly at the horrified look on your face, increasing pace, “but it’s never enough, is it? Your fingers aren’t as big as mine, so you could never make yourself cum.” He laughs, “this whole time, all you needed was a man like me to take care of you. Say it, say you need me. Say it.”

“N-Need you!” You cry out, delicious tears streaking your face, “I need you, daddy. I-I…Oh fuck, please! Please, I don’t… I just… I–“

You squirt all over his hand. And it’s insane; Rafe’s never seen anything like it before. He gazes in wonder, caught off-guard for once. You completely come undone, crying and panting his name, rocking your hips against his hand as you ride out your third orgasm of the night. And who knew it would take just a little bit of dirty talk to get you to squirt? God, you were so fucking hot, so full of surprises. So perfect for him, it was unbelievable.

“Good girl,” he strokes your head like you’re his little pet, taking his wet fingers and pressing them into your mouth, and you’re so hot when you automatically suck on them. “Such a good girl, baby. That was so fuckin’ sexy.”

All you do is clutch at him and cry, so spent and overstimulated from your orgasm. Rafe licks his lips, feeling both protective yet predatory at the same time. You’re at your weakest, most vulnerable state. Outside, thunder and lightning strike over and over again as if they were paid to do so, and the room lights up and goes dark, it shakes and shudders, and the winds howl like a pack of possessed wolves. And yet you look so pretty in the dim glow of the candlelight.

It's the perfect night for you to get ruined. His perfect little baby. Pristine and innocent and at his mercy.

Rafe’s cock is so hard it hurts, throbbing as he grabs it by the base, pumps it as he hovers over you. On his knees while you lie beneath him, looking so deliciously scared. He presses his whole length against your stomach, and watches your eyes almost bulge out of your head. He knows he’s big, but compared to your tiny frame, he’s massive. And he gets off on that, gets off on how much bigger he is than you. He smears his precum against your stomach, smirking as he watches you swallow and try to be brave.

“Listen to me,” he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, “You like my cock, baby? You like looking at it, huh?”

The way you lick your lips gives it away, and he laughs cruelly, tapping your cheek like you’re his little pet. “Say it, then. Say you like it. Beg me to put it inside you. C’mon, baby, look at your pussy, she’s crying for it. Beg me.”

He knows you’re at war with yourself, and you shake your head tearfully, opening your mouth to speak. But a clap of thunder sounds just then, so loud it makes the whole room shake. You cry out so pitifully, it makes his heart throb a little. You grab at him, and he falls down on top of you, kissing you, kissing your salty sweet lips and your tears. Kissing you all over while your desperate hands tangle into his hair.

That’s when he nudges the tip of his dick against your folds. And it already feels like fucking heaven, your wet warmth practically begging him to shove it inside you. He presses his tip on your puffy, sensitive clit and you jump, your eyes widening and then you push at his chest.

“R-Rafe, please, I don’t think–”

“Shh, c’mon, baby. Let daddy fuck you,” Rafe urges softly against your lips, “gonna make you feel so good again, mhm?”

“Nooo…”

He tries to ignore your soft cries, the way your palms press weakly against his chest.

“Shit, just relax,” he coaxes, knowing he could just hold you down and force it in, and yet…

He kisses you, tasting salt on your lips. You try to kiss him back, but he can feel you gulping for breath. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest. He can feel your limbs pushing at his body, but he’s just so much fucking bigger than you that it doesn’t even make a difference, and yet…

“Rafe, I… please…”

“Baby…”

His dick feels like it’s going to explode, and he runs it up and down your soaking slit, and you moan. And your face looks turned on beyond belief, and yet scared at the same time. Nervous, frightened, vulnerable. It’s a heady mix, and he doesn’t know what to do, and–

“Please, Rafe. I’m not ready, I-I can’t, Rafe. Please…”

“Fuck.”

Something comes over him, and Rafe feels it again. That bubbling, intense feeling inside his chest. Like a rush of an emotion he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand. All he knows is he can’t, he fucking can’t. You’re so sweet, so kind, pure like a flower and he just can’t bring himself to pluck it. Tear it apart. Ruin it like how he ruined everything else he touched.

He rolls over, lying beside you while you quiver next to him. Both breathing hard. And outside, the wind howls and howls almost like it’s mocking him. Laughing at him for being a goddamned pussy. And there’s another clap of thunder, and he hears you crying softly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafe finds himself gathering you in his arms, holding you against his chest, “Hey, look, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“I-I thought I could but…” you hiccup between your tears, and your eyes look like there are a thousand stars shining wetly inside them, and he knows he’s never seen anything so beautiful. “I’m sorry, I thought I could do it, I thought–”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, cupping your face and making you look at him, his thumbs swiping away your tears, “Don’t cry, okay? Shit, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“Y-You’re not mad?”

He strokes up and down your back, soothing you while he wonders whether he is. But the only thing he feels right now is this strange, innate need to protect you. To reassure you. Hold your quivering body close till you stopped shaking. It’s insane, because he doesn’t feel like himself, because he’s never felt this before. It’s alien. Completely, utterly fucking alien.

“No,” he answers quietly, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “No, I’m not mad.”

“You pr-promise?”

“I promise.”

He feels like a different person as he tucks his dick back into his slacks. Like someone else, like someone he doesn’t recognise. But it feels so natural, holding you so close that your heartbeat feels like his. And the storm outside feels like a million miles away. Like it’s just you and him on a different planet and nothing else exists, nothing else means anything except you.

You fall asleep in his arms, spent after everything. And Rafe doesn’t even feel frustrated in that moment, because all he can focus on is how peaceful you look. Your tears dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. You trusted him with everything. And it made him feel like someone important.

The wind laughs and laughs all night.

*

The morning is calm, tranquil. Almost like the storm never even was. And Rafe wakes up well rested, with you cuddled on his chest, his arm around you and his thumb in your mouth. The room dappled in sunlight, the candles all blown out or melted away.

Slowly, he detangles from you, making sure not to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so innocent. So soft and pretty, in your little shack of a house on the Cut. He frowns as he looks around. In the morning light, your room looks even more pitiful. It’s clean, and you’ve made it pretty with notes and posters and fairy lights. But he can see the paint peeling off the walls, the fact it’s smaller than his closet back home.

Rafe can’t believe he’s woken up on this side of the island.

He has the sudden urge to leave. To run. Hastily, he types out a text to you.

Rafe: Hey. I thought I’d leave in case your mom came home and saw us. Didn’t want to wake you. Talk to you later.

He has to get home. Gather his thoughts. Recalibrate. Think about what the fuck came over him last night, when he’d had you right where he fucking wanted you. And then he’d pussied out of it. Rafe Cameron never pussied out of anything.

What the fuck did that mean?

His gaze shifts to you again, so pretty and sound asleep. Naked because you’d so willingly shed your clothes for him, spread your legs for him. And he could have had you. Hell, he could have you right now. Force himself into you while you were still asleep, and you’d wake up crying and sobbing, all confused and sleepy while he held you down and ordered you to just take it.

That’s what he should’ve done last night. So then what the fuck had stopped him?

Now, he lightly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, humming lightly at how smooth you feel. So soft, like an angel. A powerful, almost all-consuming feeling overtakes him. A wave of possessiveness coursing through him like a tidal wave of dark poison. You were his. All his. He could do what he pleased with you. Your body was his. You’d all but served it to him on a silver platter last night, in your pathetic little room with the candles.

Rafe feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He gets his phone out, ignoring any small, decent part of him that was sending warning signals to his brain. You were his. He had every right to do this.

Silently, he takes the pictures. And a sick part of him gets off on it, gets off on the fact you’re asleep and none the wiser to what’s happening. But this was the least you could do, you’d left him hanging last night. After he’d been so patient, so understanding. Fuck that. Why had he been like that? Like he was weak?

“You make me feel safe, daddy.”

Your words from last night ring in his ears, bouncing around in his brain till it gets too much, till they start to echo and get louder and louder. Till he feels the urge to punch the shit out of your bedroom wall. It was all too much. He had to get out of here.

He tucks his phone into his pocket, pushes the cotton covers up till your chin, and then leaves without looking back.

*

“There he is! The loverboy himself!”

His friends gather around him the next morning like he’s the second coming of Christ himself.

“How was she, Rafe?” one of them slaps him on the back, “That is, if you fucked her.”

“Yeah.” Kelce stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Rafe expectantly. They all are. “Did you fuck her?”

Rafe scoffs, “Is that even a question.”

He’d waited all day yesterday for you to respond to his text. Like a pussy ass little bitch, he’d waited for you to say something. Growing angrier and more paranoid by the second when you didn’t. Staring at the pictures he’d taken of you like a man possessed, his thumb hovering over the delete button a handful of times before he’d thrown his phone angrily across the room. Hating how you were making him wait. Hating how his heart had leapt up to his fucking throat when you finally had replied: I’m so sorry for being such a scaredy cat yesterday. Thank you for coming over.

He'd discovered something then. He was obsessed with you. And he hated it.

“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Kelce grins, cutting straight to the chase. Next to him, Rafe sees Topper’s eyes light with interest, as well as the others too. Fucking desperate losers, trying to catch a glimpse of something that belonged to him. Because they’d never get to see you like that, ever. No one else would. He’d make sure of that.

“It did happen.” Rafe says calmly, “Like I said it would.”

“Okay well, that’s great brother but we’re gonna need proof.” One of the clowns pipes up.

“You don’t need shit,” He shoots back.

“You didn’t take pictures?” Topper asks.

Rafe runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I did.”

“Then show us. That was the deal.”

He wants to beat the shit out of all of them for daring to ask to see intimate pictures of you. As if you were anything like the other whores he’d fucked in the past, the type of stupid girls him and his friends used every week. You were different, and you were his, and they had no fucking business looking at what was his.

“Look. I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me.” He mutters, completely over the dumb ass bet and over his friends too. They’d forget about it by tomorrow, ready to become his willing followers once more. They always did.

“C’mon man, you can’t bring our hopes up like that. Either you never fucked her or,” Kelce’s eyes glint when it registers, “Or you’ve gone soft for her. You’ve–”

Rafe grabs him roughly by the collar, a sudden anger coursing through him like he’s been electrocuted. “Listen, you fucking moron. Don’t ever insinuate I’ve gone soft for a goddamned Pogue.”

He spits that last word out like it’s venom, and yet he tried to ignore how hollow it feels. When he realises people are staring, he quietly lets go, smoothing Kelce’s shirt while his friends stare at him fearfully in that way he’s grown used to people looking at him.

“I fucked her,” Rafe says plainly, his tone switching from aggressive to calm in a split second, almost like he’s slipped on a mask, “I fucked her just like I’ve fucked every other Pogue bitch who’s thrown herself at me before her. And it wasn’t anything special. She acts all innocent, but it was easy to get her to spread her legs for me just like I told you it would be.”

He hears a thud, and then a little gasp behind him. So soft, it barely registers. Except it does, and he turns around.

And immediately locks eyes with you.

And then it feels like it’s just him and you. And nobody else is there. And there’s no sound, like both of you have stopped breathing. You stand there, frozen, stricken. Your books on the ground in front of you. Only a few steps behind him, well within earshot. And he sees something break in your expression, porcelain features twisting in hurt, shock, dismay, disbelief.

“Oh shit,” Topper mutters from somewhere behind him. A few of his friends snicker, but Rafe can’t hear them. No, he’s frozen, staring at you as if he can’t quite believe it. And he sees the tears welling in your eyes.

A little broken sob falls from your lips, and then you turn and run. And Rafe wants to chase after you but it’s like he’s frozen in time and space. Watching you run off while he just stands there.

Stands and watches as you run away from him, your hands reaching up blindly to wipe at your face. And that feeling returns tenfold. That feeling that Rafe can’t quite put his finger on, that feeling which he wants to push back down because it suffocates him, and he doesn’t understand it. The feeling consumes him from the inside out, till he feels like he can’t breathe.

And he just stands there and watches until you’re gone.

𝘼/𝙉: OOF. Okay, I finally posted it! Please let me know what your thoughts! Literally any reaction, predictions, favourite parts etc. All of it, ANY of it would be so appreciated! Also please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors. Here's some questions in case you want to answer them (you don't have to!! you can comment/reblog whatever you want, i just always post questions at the end of my fics)

Does Rafe genuinely care for reader?

Should reader forgive Rafe?

Favourite scene/part?

like the time jake got stupidly drunk at a house party at the age of seventeen, and jay had to haul his half–conscious ass back through the window of his bedroom while sunghoon knocked on the front door and entertained jake’s father from finding out.

or the time jay accidentally broke the school’s window and to prevent him from getting suspended and kicked out of the football team, jake stepped forward and took the blame—”i threw it too hard to impress a girl, sorry.” he flashed that innocent puppy smile and accepted the week’s detention without complaint. jay never forgot it and paid him back by covering his shifts for two whole weeks.

but the real payment was the tighter bond between them.

“ride or die,” sunghoon had said once. and in a world where friendships were shallow and people stabbed each other in the back, the three of them were unbreakable. like a stream of water, it cannot be cut—

but even the strongest stream can be diverted when the faucet is turned.

——

 funny enough—the first time jay saw you was during one of his football friendly matches. 

it was a casual friday afternoon game, nothing serious, just the medic faculty versus the business for bragging rights and free drinks afterward. jay was on the field in his number 99 jersey, sweat already soaking the back of his neck under the orange sun.

his girlfriend, minji, was sitting in the small bleachers with a couple of her friends, waving at him every time he glanced her way. he’d blown her a kiss before the whistle, the perfect boyfriend move that made his teammates tease him later.

and you weren’t even supposed to be there for him. 

you were merely just a friend with one of the strikers in his team—and had come along because he (martin) had begged you to at least pretend to cheer so he doesn’t look like a loser. you sat on the grass near the sidelines, knees pulled up in those pretty shorts and prettier top. 

you weren’t attention seeking or loud, but jay found his eyes travelling to you more often than he’d like to. light, genuine laughter that cut through the noise of the field and scored him square in the chest. he almost lost the ball.

and if it wasn’t after the match that everyone gathered near the benches to talk about what happened and martin pulled you in to join the conversation. you, being youself—ever so friendly and talkative you, even prettier up close and funnier than most girls he know—chatted with the rest of the boys like you’d known them for months.

jay stood there, still catching his breath, tower slung over his shoulder, watching you. the conversation flowed naturally and he found himself grinning wider than he should, eyes lingering on the way your lips curved when you smiled.

“you played so well. even if your team totally got lucky on that last goal,” you commented, casually sitting next to jay on the bench. jay laughed, humming. “yeah? that never happened by the way—so it was probably your luck.”

you raised an eyebrow, amused, turning your body slightly toward him. “you think so?”

the way you said it made something in his chest tighten in the best way possible. most girls would either just giggle or try too hard, but you looked like you were genuinely enjoying the back–and–forth. 

he leaned back on the bench, resting his elbows behind him. his jersey clung to his chest, damp with sweat, but neither of you care. for once, he was grateful his girlfriend wasn’t around.

“maybe,” he replied, that smirk tugging at his lips. “or maybe you’re bad luck for the other team. every time you cheered us, their defense fell apart. i saw it.”

you let out the laugh that got him almost distracted on the field earlier—and shook your head. “you’re so smooth, jay. do you use that line on every girl who watches your game?” 

uh, oh. 

his smirk faltered for half a second. he let out a quick, awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck to play it cool. “of course not,” he said, chuckling a little too loudly. “that would be way too cheesy. i swear i’m not that kind of guy.”

you tilted your head, studying him with glint in your eyes. then, casually, almost too casually, you dropped it—

“i thought so! you kept blowing kisses to a girl earlier. i saw it.”

jay went quiet.

the easy smile on his face froze. his fingers tightened slightly around his water bottle as the words landed. he swore—he swore—he didn’t mean to come off as flirty or anything, but it just… came out naturally. 

like it was just you.

for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. he hadn’t even realised you’d noticed that. 

“yeah, well…” he started, voice trailing off. he looked away for a second, heartbeat drumming fast, searching for the right words that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete asshole. 

before he could finish, you broke into a soft giggle and waved your hand lightly in front of him. “i’m just joking, hehe,” you said, mischievous. “relax. you don’t have to look so guilty.”

jay let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension in his shoulder easing as he laughed along. you were teasing him, but the way you said it so playfully made his tummy flip. 

he finally met your eyes, watching the way your lips curved when you smiled like that. relax. you don’t have to look so guilty. then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. 

“put your number in,” he said, smoother and calmer now. “next time we play, you could be our lucky charm again.” 

you’re not stupid. if anything, martin would’ve invited you to the next matches anyway. but you took the phone anyway—fingers brushed against his. you saved yourself as yn, followed with a little soccer ball emoji and handed it back.

“don’t blow me kisses though,” you teased lightly as you stood up, brushing invisible dust from your shorts.

jay watched your back as you walked away, phone warm in his hand, your contact staring back at him. it’s harmless—it’s just a number and you’re just a girl who was easy and fun to talk to.

but the further you got from him, the more it’s clear to jay that he was going to text you tonight. 

and the first turn of the faucet happened—quietly, and completely without anyone knowing, not even jay himself.

——

“oh my gosh, my player,” you moaned sensually, tipping your head back as jay lifted you up around his waist with ease. 

his strong hands gripped the back of your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pressed you against the cool metal locker. the contrast between the cold surface on your back and the heat of his body made you shiver.

jay’s mouth was on yours instantly—hungry, deep, messy, and horny. he kissed you like he’d been starving from it since the first whistle was blown, tongue sliding against yours while low groans rumbled deep from his chest. 

“fuck baby, you feel so good like this,” he rasped between kisses, grinding his hard cock against your bare pussy. the thin fabric of his shorts was the only thing separating you, and you could feel every inch of him throbbing, already leaking like a little boy for you. 

“my little reward.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair as you rocked your hips against him, chasing the friction. “hngh—you did so well… how are you so good at everything?” another sensual moan slipped from your lips when he shifted and rubbed the head of his cock against your swollen clit. 

“am i?” his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting lightly, leaving faint marks he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t stop himself from making. one hand stayed under your thigh, holding you up effortlessly, while the other squeezed your tit, thumb flicking over your perky nipple until you whimpered. 

“look at you,” he murmured against your skin, voice hoarse with list. “so fucking wet and ready for me after i won. you like being my secret celebration, baby?” 

you nodded eagerly, pussy twitching and clenching around nothing but the idea of jay’s thick cock inside. sensing that—he pulled his shorts down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy, tip glistening with a bead of precum. 

“i want you—fuck me, please,” you cry out, leaning to kiss him.

without another word, jay lined himself up and pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust—stretching you open, filling you completely. a broken moan tore from your throat as he bottomed out, walls clenching tight around him. the guy buried his face in your neck, groaning loudly at how perfectly you took him. 

“shit… so tight,” he breathed, staying still to let you adjust—but not for long before he started moving, sensual, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock against every sensitive spot. “oh god, yesyesyes, just like that,”

the locker rattled with every thrust. your legs tightened around his waist, heels dragging into his lower back as he fucked you against the cool metal, mouth never leaving your skin. he kissed, licked, and sucked at your neck and collarbone while his pace gradually picked up, turning deeper and harder.

“mine tonight,” he whispered roughly, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles on your wet, sensitive clit. you moaned louder, bud ticklish and feeling like you were going to squirt—which you did, just seconds after. 

jay’s so good and gentle with how he’s treating you it’s making your chest flutter. “yours, jay, yours,” you gasped as the head of his cock knocked against your cervix—jerking your body upwards with each pound.

“my pretty little trophy… taking my cock so well after the game.”

your moans grew louder, more desperate, echoing softly in the empty, locked, locker room as he drove into you again and again and again—sensual, hot, sinful, and so fucking good.

jay’s breathing turned ragged, forehead pressed to yours as he chased both your highs, the wet slap of your skin and your shared gasps filling the air. the player ended up cumming—shooting ropes and ropes of warm jizz on your pretty little face, landing some on your head.

seeing how well you’re cleaning his cock—jay realised he was far from done with you.

——

for sim jaeyun, everything had its place, neatly stacked in order of importance.

first came his family—always. then his friends (sunghoon and jay at top, then the rest of the people he knows). layla, his border collie, squeezed into that top tier too. studies came strongly after that because he believed it’s 100% his future—

and finally, only then—way down the list—came fun.

and fun included his girlfriend, chloe. she was sweet, understanding, and never complained when he told her he had to study late or hang out with the boys. jake liked that about her—she knew her place in his priorities, and she respected it.

he never meant to rearrange that list. 

“sorry we can’t do this at my apartment,” jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “my girlfriend’s been staying over a lot lately and… yeah. i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

you and jake shared multiple classes since the start of the semester, sitting in the same lecture halls but he’d never really talked to you. not until the professor paired you two together for a major project that counted half of the final grade.

now here you were—tucked away in a quiet, secluded corner of the library on the third floor. jake sat across from you, laptop open, highlighter between his teeth as he scribbled notes. you leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, a small knowing smile playing on your lips.

unlike the easy friendliness you’d shown jay, something about jake brought out a slightly different side of you—a bit more teasing, more… dominant? like you enjoyed watching the good boy squirm a little. 

“that’s okay, jakey,” you replied, tilting your head, eyes locked onto his. “anywhere is fine at least we get it done, right?”

jake blinked, caught off guard by the nickname but didn’t comment on it. his cheeks warmed slightly, but he laughed it off. “yeah… exactly. studies first, you know? gotta keep priorities straight.” 

you hummed, leaning forward on your elbow, chin resting on your hand as you watched him. jake had to do everything just from glancing at your cleavage sticking out from your shirt. the way your gaze lingered made the air between you feel a little heavier, more intimate—and jake figured this was why most girls wouldn’t want their boyfriends around a girl.

a pretty one at that too.

“that’s good. keeping everything in order like that, hehe.”

the words slipped out casually but jake’s ears turned pink anyway. he shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper–aware of how secluded this corner was—no one could really see the two of you back here.

he tried to steer the conversation back to the project, pointing at the screen as you scooted closer beside him. “so… for this second, i was thinking we could—”

“oh—you typed quantitative wrong here—” 

you leaned in and pointed at the typo on his laptop screen. in the process, your chest brushed against his arm, soft and warm through your thin top that jake swore he felt the sponge of your bra. 

jake froze.

his breath hitched, eyes widening for a split second as he felt the brief press of your chest against his bicep. a rush of heat shot straight through him and you felt the way he tensed up.

“oh—shit, sorry,” you said quickly, pulling back a little, though your voice didn’t sound even an ounce of guilt if he was being honest. “didn’t mean to interrupt you like that.”

his mouth went dry. he could still feel the ghost of the touch on his arm, and his brain was suddenly struggling to form normal sentences. “n—no, it’s okay,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks now matching the pink of his ears.

“don’t worry about it.”

you bit your lip to hide a small smile, watching the way composed jake was suddenly flustered. the good boy who kept his priorities straight was starting to crack a little. instead of moving back, you stayed right where you were—shoulders almost touching his, close enough that your perfume filled his nostrils. 

you pointed at the screen again, this time more carefully, your nails tapping on the lcd. your voice dropped softer, with a hint of light dominant slipping through.  

“see? right here. fix it, jakey.”

jake swallowed hard, nodding quickly as his fingers moved to the keyboard. but it was hard to focus on the project anymore—not when every time you shifted even slightly, he became hyper–aware of how close you were, and how dangerous his mind was playing at.

that damn cleavage and top.

maybe it was because jake met you during one of his ‘studying’ sessions, but you were quick to climb up his carefully built hierarchy. just like jay, you were easy to talk to, quick with your thoughts, and somehow jake liked… being told what to do. shamelessly.

“you’re so good at this,” you hummed softly, scooting your chair just a tiny bit closer until your knee brushed his under the table. “what’s something you’re not good at?” 

you meant the project—but you also knew men like jake would divert the meaning elsewhere. something jake’s not good at is probably standing on his morals and keeping his priorities straight. 

not when he’s easily swayed like this.

——

just two months after that, jake’s stacked priorities crumbled.

parked in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the campus parking lot at 11:49 p.m., the backseat of his car fogged up. he had a chemistry exam the next day—yet here he was. 

“jakey…” you whispered against his mouth, voice low and teasing as you cupped his cheeks, fingers tapping against his skin. “you’re thinking too much again.” you continued, straddling his lap and brushing your lips against his.

“it’s late…” he breathed, even as his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you down harder against the obvious bulge in his jeans. “test t’morrow… chloe… fuck, this is so wrong.”

you pouted playfully, rolling your hips and grinding against him in the meantime. “but you’ll ace the test tomorrow anyway, why bother?” you hummed, pressing your lips against him. jake groaned, head falling back against the seat. you purposely ignored the latter problem.

his morals screamed at him, but his body betrayed him completely.

clothes were pushed aside rather than fully removed—your skirt flipped up, panties pulled to the side, his jeans shoved down just enough. he had you on all fours, exactly how he liked it best: doggy style.

as all up for him to watch as it jiggles—yeah, fuck yeah. jake’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he pushed into you from behind in one, full, deep thrust—instantly burying himself deep with a broken moan.

“shit—you feel so good, yn,” he gasped, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades for a second. the angle was beyond perfect—the cramped car, and your tight, wet, cunt while being so deep he could feel every clench around him. 

“uh huh? what else?”

he started moving, savouring the way your back arched for him, the way you pushed back to meet every thrust, the way your ass jiggled when his pelvis slapped ‘em. “so tight, your pussy’s so tight, yn,” he rasped, picking up his pace. jake’s hips snapped harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the space of the car. “i love it—love your pussy,”

jake’s cock was probably the longest you’ve had, reaching so deep your fingers, toys, and other boys had never been able to. “oh god, jakey, you’re so good,” you moaned aloud, palms flat against the fogged window.

“you’re ruining me,” jake groaned, one hand sliding up to push you down lower, chest pressed against the seat while your ass stayed up for him. “can’t stop thinkin’ about this—about you.”

his balls slapped against your wet pussy, dragging you velvet walls with each time he pulled out. you moaned sensually, gripping the edge of the seat as he fucked you faster, coming close. “then don’t stop, just do me all the time.”

that pushed him over the edge. 

the boy’s grip tightened. he pulled you back onto his cock, deep with every thrust. the car rocked with his movements. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, sweat dripping down his temple, morals completely shattered as he took you exactly how he loved—deep, rough, playful.

“want your cum, gosh—fuck, cum all over me,” you gasped, saliva leaking out from the edge of your mouth. your pussy squelched with every thrust, juices splattering on the leather seat. what a shame to the girlfriend, really.

he leaned over you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other braced beside your head, pounding into you harder as he began chasing his end. “shouldn’t… i really shouldn’t…” he groaned, voice strained and broken.

“c’mon, be a good boy—give it to me, cumcumcum,”

the praise pushed him over—with a final moan, jake pulled out of your dripping pussy. he flipped you onto your back in one motion, trapping you between his knees. his hand pumped his slick, wet cock furiously, eyes dark and wild as he hovered above you.

you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes—lips parted, chest heaving, already arching your back and pushing your tits together for him. his abs tensed, jaw clenched tight.

“shit—i’m cumming—!”

thick liquidity, warm ropes of cum shot across your chest in messy spurts, painting your tits and collarbones white. some landed right on your nipple, dripping slowly down the curve which only caused jake to cum some more.

fuck, that’s so fucking hot—he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat as he kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop until his cock twitched empty and his whole body shuddered. 

you licked around your lips, smearing jake’s cum all over your pretty tits. it looked like you were lactating his cum. 

“fuck… am i good enough, yn?” he murmured, chest heaving. “look at what you do to me.”

——

saturday night and sunghoon’s at a popular off–campus club with a group of his classmates. while he’s not much of a party guy, he came because one of them kept dragging him anyway, and he knew he couldn’t keep rejecting their advances for so long.

he’s sitting in the booth area, nursing drunks, bored, and detached while everyone else is loud and drunk. sunghoon doesn’t dance. doesn’t flirt. just watch.

that’s when he saw you.

you’re on the dance floor with your girlfriends, just being effortlessly sexy and attractive—the way your body swayed, hair sticking on your neck from the heat, the same curve of your smile that jay was starstrucked with. 

and that damn black dress that hugged your curves just right.

sunghoon’s eyes locked on you instantly, he didn't smile when your eyes met his as well across the floor—just watching. instead of looking away shyly, you held his gaze for a few seconds, then your eyes travelled from the top of his head down to his shoes, and  gave him a slow smile before turning back to your friends.

that was all it took for him.

sunghoon stood up, leaving his classmates’ drinks and stuffs on the table, and walked straight onto the crowd. he didn’t say anything at first—just slid in behind you, one hand slightly resting on your waist as he spun you around to meet him. 

“hey,” he murmured, tall frame towering over you. “what’s that about?”

you tilted your head slightly, a playful, faux innocence smile playing on your lips. “what’s what about?”

his eyebrows furrowed just a fraction, but the corner of his mouth twitched—the tiniest hint of amusement and a thought of, wow, the audacity. his hand stayed on your waist, thumb pressing lightly into the fabric of your dress, holding you in place. 

“that look you gave me,” he said, shrugging. “are you daring me?”

you let out a soft laugh that almost sounded like a scoff, eyes sparkling and laced with a kind of bratness that he never knew he was into. you didn’t pull away but instead stepped a little closer, letting your chest brush against his as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“and if i am?” you replied, sweetly. “what are you gonna do about it?”

morality had always been quite a blur to sunghoon.

he never lost sleep over it but rules, right and wrong, loyalty—they were just concepts that applied to other people. as long as it didn’t affect his image or his life or his close circle greatly, he didn’t care enough to draw hard lines.

and tonight, those blurry lines had just walked out of the club with him.

sunghoon didn’t say much as he guided you toward his black sedan by holding your hand in his. you glanced up at him, still wearing that same little smile. “you always drag girls out of clubs without asking their name?”

he unlocked the car with a soft beep and opened the front door for you. his eyes met yours—completely unbothered. “sunghoon,” he said simply. “and i don’t bring girls out anywhere.”

you let out a hum, but still slid into the front seat without hesitation. he followed right after, closing the door behind him. the inside of his car smelled strongly of his cologne, and as he started the engine, he didn’t bother with small talks. didn’t ask where you lived, nor did he offer to take you home. 

sunghoon pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the city centre with his one hand occasionally brushing your thigh. you watched the streetlights flicker across his jawline and the way his expression said nothing eventhough the tension between you two in the car reeked with want.

“so… where are we going?”

“a hotel. closer than my place.”

——

the door had barely clicked shut before sunghoon had you pressed against the wall, mouth crashing into yours in a deep. hungry kiss. there was nothing gentle about it—his lips moved against yours with need, tongue sliding in immediately to taste you as one hand gripped your jaw, and the other pressed on your hip. 

and you—you kissed him back just as greedily, fingers digging into his shoulders, tugging at his shirt like you wanted it off yesterday. “ngh—hngh,” you moaned into his mouth, tongue intertwining and sucking on one another.

sunghoon broke the kiss only long enough to pull your dress up and over your head at once, letting it drop to the floor. his hands were on you instantly—squeezing your tits, sliding down to grip your ass, yanking you flush against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants.

“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, voice low. he bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue before kissing you again, deeper this time. 

you moaned into his mouth, hands working frantically to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. the moment his bare chest pressed against yours, sunghoon groaned and lifted you up. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you across the room, lips still on yours.

he dropped you onto the bed, the mattress dipping. before you could even catch your breath, sunghoon was crawling over you, shoving his pants and boxers fully down to free his thick, heavy cock.

and jesus—unlike jay or jake’s, sunghoon was packing. 

“you’re so hot,” sunghoon licked his lips, hooked his fingers into your panties, ripped them down your legs, and spread your thighs wide open with his knees. he looked down at you for one brief second, then lined himself up. 

“are you gonna fuck me? without even knowing my name?”

sunghoon paused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a cocky smirk. finally, he didn’t look cold. he pushed just the tip inside you, teasing, before answering.

“i know you, yn,”

your eyes almost widened, a mix of surprise and arousal flashing across your features. 

“how?”

he leaned down closer, one hand gripping your thigh as he slowly sank another inch deeper, stretching your tight cunt open. “i overhead your friends,” he murmured, hissing through his teeth as your pussy engulfed him. 

you let out a soft moan, back arching as the familiar burn of being stretched came back to you. “fuck… you’re really something, hoonie.”

sunghoon bottomed out with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you. for a second, he stayed still—letting you feel and adjust every inch of him, his grip on your thighs tightened. you arched your back, eyes half–lidded as you looked up at him, that spark still burning bright behind your eyes. 

“fuck me good, hoonie,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip as you began palming and playing with your tits, tweaking the perky buds. “make it worth me leaving my friends for you.”

“shh—shut up and let me do the work.”

that night, sunghoon fucked you for hours—the bed creaked loudly beneath as he fucked you deep and fast, hips snapping against yours with every thrust. his hands held your thighs spread wide, keeping you open as he pounded. the wet sounds of your bodies echoing in the hotel room.

“fuck—your cunt feels s’good,” sunghoon moaned, tipping his head against the headrest, jaw clenched tight. you hovered right over his hard, slick cock. sunghoon’s eyes never left yours as you sank down onto him, taking every inch until your ass met his lap.

a broken moan left your lips at the deeper angle. sunghoon groaned too, his fingers digging harder. “look at you,” he murmured, eyes roaming over your face, your bouncing, marked, tits, lips parted in pleasure with your tongue sticking out. 

fuck. this is why sunghoon loved cowgirl. watching every lewd, pretty expression, every flutter of your eyelashes, your mouth opened to moan his name—because of this cock. 

you started moving, rolling your hips in sensual circles, then bouncing on his cock with more force. his hands guided you, but he let you do most of the work, just like he liked it. his gaze stayed locked on your face the entire time. 

“you’re so big, hoonie, oh jesus fuck,” you moaned eagerly, biting your lip. with each time you bounced on it, the head of his cock kissed your cervix sweetly and it felt so fucking good. he pulled you down closer by the nape of your neck, and kissed you deeply while you rode him. 

“that’s it… just like that, baby,” he rasped against your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. “ride my cock like a good girl—let me see how pretty you look when you cum on me again.”

his free hand moved between your bodies to circle and pinch your perky buds. the combination made your rhythm falter, thighs shaking as you bounced faster, chasing the high. 

sunghoon kept watching you—obsessed. he kissed you again and again, swallowing your moans, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your movements and driving himself even deeper.

“cummin’ soon, babe?” he murmured against your lips, now moving his hand to rub that sensitive, wet, clit. “cum on me—then i’ll fill you up.”

you could only moan his name as the pleasure built higher and higher, your hips moving desperately. 

sunghoon, who never thought he’d ever cheat on sooha, let alone creampie another girl he just met raw—watched your face with almost possessive gaze. he had always been careful, even with someone who has little to no morals. 

and you—who had literally never let anyone cum inside you before—were seconds away from letting him be the first.

your thighs shook as the orgasm crashed over you. “fuck—!” you cried out, clenching hard around him, hips stuttering as you came and squirted all over his cock. the feeling of your pussy pulsing and gushing around him pushed sunghoon over the edge. 

thick, hot spurts of semen flooded inside you, filling you up the very first time. he kept thrusting through it, pushing his cum deeper. 

one night stand—this won’t ruin anything for sunghoon.

right?

——

“so,” jay started, leaning back against the railing with that smirk of his, “valentine’s next week. you guys already got plans locked in?” 

jake nodded, smiling. “don’t even say it. i booked the restaurant last month because i know she’ll kill me if i forget. we’ll probs just have dinner together.” he shook his head, sipping his canned beer. “gotta keep the girlfriend happy, right?”

sunghoon took a slow sip of his as well, shrugging and unbothered as ever. “i’ll probably just take sooha out on a breakfast and shopping. i got plans that night.” 

jay raised an eyebrow, turning to him with curiousity. “oh? what are you doing that night?”

he didn’t even flinch, just stared down at the small puddle of water around the can opening where his mouth kissed it. “bringing yeji out,” he said, absentmindedly swirling the alcohol in the can. “she’s been begging me to take her out. figured valentine’s night is as good as any.”

jake let out a laugh, completely buying it. “damn, she’s gonna milk you dry.” he commented, then glanced at jay from where he’s sitting. “what about you? something big again?”

“nah, think minji wants something intimate this time.” he hummed, looking out at the yard—people were chatting, dancing, and drunk to their heads. “maybe i’ll cook and we’ll spend the day at mine. who knows.” 

“what a romance.”

the three of them continued talking easily—hopping from one topic to another—arguing whose girlfriend was more demanding, whose more whipped, and reminiscing about things they’ll never get back. 

none of them even knew that they each shared the same secret—and little did they know, she was walking around the party downstairs right under their noses. 

down in the crowded kitchen, you leaned against the counter, red cup in hand, while heeseung stood in front of you—close enough that his arm rested on the counter beside your waist. 

“oh, i don’t have a boyfriend,” you replied, taking a small sip from your cup while holding his gaze. heeseung grinned, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice so only you could hear him over the loud music. 

“good. because i’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. you’re always so hard to catch alone.” his fingers lightly tapped the counter next to your hip. “what do you say? let me take you somewhere nice this valentines?”

you bit your lip, pretending to think about it—

but before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise. 

“yn?” 

sunghoon.

he was frowning. the usual expression on his face didn’t change much except for the tightness of his jaw, and the way his gaze flicked to heeseung’s hand near your hip.

heeseung turned his head, still smiling. “oh, hey man—”

sunghoon didn’t let him finish.

without a word, he reached out, wrapped his fingers around your waist and firmly pulled you away from the counter and away from heeseung. “come with me,” he said quietly, already leaving the kitchen.

you barely had time to shoot heeseung an apologetic smile before sunghoon guided you through the crowd, up the stairs, and into one of the empty guest rooms on the second floor. he closed the door—but didn’t lock it—the party noise instantly muffled.

“the fuck was that?” he asked, frowning and confused. “heeseung? really? you let him get that close to you?”

sunghoon took a step closer, towering over, eyes narrowed. 

“i thought we had an understanding,” he continued, laced with unfair possessiveness. “you didn’t even tell me you’d be here—then i caught you with some dude flirting?” 

before you could form a reply, his hand came up to grip your cheeks, forcing you to meet his gaze. “you couldn’t wait till i take you out on valentines?”

you looked up at him, a scoff escaped you—and a small smile tugged at your lips. “so you can have fun with sooha… but i can’t do the same with heeseung?”

his jaw tightened; and for a second, he just stared at you, thumb brushing over your lower lips. he let out a low, breathy scoff, almost a laugh—but there was no humour in it. “you’re really testing me,” he murmured, clicking his tongue.

“sooha’s my girlfriend. she gets breakfast and shopping because that’s what keeps everything quiet. you…” he paused, free hand slid down to your waist where he squeezed the flesh. “you get me at night. isn’t that better? i’m about to fuck you all night and you’re gettin’ jealous over some fucking breakfast?”

he tilted your head slightly, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“don’t compare yourself to her. and don’t let another guy put his hands near you again.”

he crashed his lips against yours in a hungry, possessive kiss, gripping your jaw tighter as he devoured your mouth. the kiss was messy and intense—tongues sliding, teeth grazing, low groans between you.

you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his hair and tugging hard, making him groan into your mouth.

“fuuuccckkk,” he grunted between the kiss—turning and walking you backwards until your legs hut the edge of the bed. without breaking the kiss, sunghoon pushed you down onto the mattress and climbed on top of you, body pressing into the sheets. 

his hands roamed greedily—one sliding under your dress to grip your thigh, the other pinning your wrists above your head. “oh my, hngh,” you moaned softly, arching up into him as he ground his hips down against you. sunghoon bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue.

“always pissin’ me off—”

his phone suddenly started ringing on the nightstand.

sunghoon ignored it initially, lips moving down to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark as the ringing continued. “jesus—shut the fuck up…” he murmured, merely glancing at his phone. he assumed it was just one of his friends, or just anyone but—

“sunghoon, you in here—?”

jake’s voice died in his throat. jay stood right beside him, phone in his hand—both of them froze in the doorway, eyes wide as they took in the scene. 

you lying on the bed, dress hiked up, lips swollen from kissing. sunghoon on top of you, one hand under your dress, his lips glistened from saliva, hair messy from your fingers.

for a long, suffocating second, nobody moved. 

sunghoon’s head snapped up, eyes widening in genuine shock, his expression completely shattered—he was caught. fucking caught. by his own bestfriends. they weren’t supposed to fucking know that he’s not loyal to sooha. the same two guys he swore loyalty to since teenangers.

the colour drained from his face. 

jake and jay stared, wide–eyed, stunned. 

“...yn?” jake breathed out first, voice barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. jay’s mouth opened, then closed—replaced by pure disbelief. instead of addressing the elephant in the room—which was sunghoon fucking cheating—your name came out first. 

the realisation hit them both at the same time—how the fuck did all of them came to know you? if jay knew you because of his affair, and jake knew you too—and sunghoon too—then were they all having an affair with you?

they’d been secretly fucking the same girl for months—?!

you, still pinned under sunghoon, felt your stomach drop.

“oh my fucking gosh…” you whispered, eyes wide, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you before you could stop it. you propped yourself up on your elbows, hand flew up to cover your mouth, but it was useless. 

the shock, the absurdity, the fact that you had been playing all three of them without any of them knowing… it was all crashing down at once. 

sunghoon finally pulled his hand out from under your dress and sat up slightly. he looked between his two bestfriends, voice strained. “look—this isn’t what it looks like.”

jake let out a broken, disbelieving laugh. “you’re on top of her, dude.”

jay’s grip tightened—he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. 

“you.. and sunghoon?” his voice cracked. “how long has this been going on?”

the room was thick and silent for half a second.

then it clicked. 

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at jay—then slowly turned his head toward jake. the realisation hit him. “wait…” he muttered. “how the fuck do you know her?”

jake’s face went pale—he blinked rapidly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “yeah… how do you know yn?”

jay’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. his gaze flicked between you and sunghoon, confusion turning into dawning horror. sunghoon sat up straighter, but not off you. all three boys were now staring directly at you.

“how do you know jay?”

“and how the hell do you know jake?”

“you and sunghoon—?”

now the focus shifted entirely on you.

you were still lying on the bed, dress rumpled, lips swollen, heart hammering in your chest. three pairs of eyes—shocked, jealous, and confused—were locked on you. 

“i—” 

you tried to sit up, tugging your dress down with shaky hands. “i—i didn’t know? ah, i swear… it just… happened? i mean—”

you were clearly flustered, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “i never thought—i didn’t know you guys knew each other—?”

before you could finish, jake reached behind him and closed the door with a soft click, locking the four of you inside. both of them walked closer to the bed, their expressions shifting from confusion to something more of—betrayal and disbelief.

jay ran a hand through his hair, letting out a short laugh. “wow… you’ve been fucking all of us?” his voice was low, eyes wide. “our own friend group?”

why didn’t they blame each other—? you thought, swallowing the lump in your throat. you guys were the asshole cheaters in the first place! so they could cheat on their girlfriends, but god forbids a girl have fun with multiple guys?

“have you been playing us the whole time? jake asked. “letting jay fuck you, me, now sunghoon pinning you down like that?”

just as you were about to open your mouth, sunghoon squished your cheeks together and slammed his lips against yours roughly—teeth clashing and grazing your lips. you whimpered into the kiss, hands instinctively grabbing his shirt. 

when sunghoon finally pulled back, you grasped for air. his thumb dragged across your botton lip. “there’s no point hiding anymore, is there?”

the tension snapped. 

jay moved first, climbing onto the bed and grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. “c’mere, baby.” jake was right behind him, kneeling on your other side. sunghoon stayed where he was, between your knees, watching as his two bestfriends started touching you.

in seconds, your dress was being yanked up and over your head. hands were everywhere—jake’s mouth on your neck, jay’s hands squeezing your tits, sunghoon’s fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your legs. 

you were panting, head spinning from the sudden overload.

“look at her,” jay murmured, voice thick as he pinched your nipple, eliciting a moan. “pretty little side chick… been taking all three of us like a whore.” jake groaned, kissing down your chest. “and we thought we were the only ones… fuck, that’s so hot.”

sunghoon gripped your jaw again, turning your face toward him. “open your mouth.”

the second you did, and he kissed you again—rough and deep—while jay and jake worked together pleasing your tits. jay’s hand wandered along your tummy—down to your bare, wet cunt. 

his fingers slid between your folds, groaning when he felt how wet you already were. “shit, so soaked.”

“fuckin’ dripping for us already,” sunghoon said, moving to give jake a space to settle between your spread legs. “turn over,” sunghoon ordered, commanding as he grabbed your hips. “on your hands and knees now, c’mon.”

your body obeyed before your brain could catch up—which shocked jake a little since with him, you were never this obedient. you were flipped onto all fours in the middle of the bed, ass up, back arched, completely exposed.

jake gripped your asscheeks, spreading them wide enough as he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from your clit, all the way up to your dripping hole. “fuck, taste s’good,” he moaned, his cock beneath his pants twitched. he dove back in, licking and sucking messily while jay knelt in front of you. he tilted your chin up, hard cock already freed from his pants, thick and leaking. 

“open that pretty mouth, baby.”

you parted your lips and he instantly pushed the head of his cock past them, sliding deep into your warm mouth with a satisfied groan. “oh, fuuuuck… your mouth always feels s’good…”

sunghoon stayed at your side, one hand already palming and stroking his cock while the other reached underneath to rub circles on your clit as jake french–kissed your pussy. “look at you,” sunghoon murmured. “what a slut… taking all taken men at once. this what you wanted, isn’t it?”

jake hummed against your pussy and you felt the curve of his mouth forming into a smile—the vibration making your thighs quiver. jay thrusted into your mouth, hand tangled in your hair. “been screwing each of us behind the other’s backs…” jay groaned, pushing deeper until you gagged. 

“greedy little girl.”

your muffled moan around jay’s cock was the only answer they needed. 

jake was the first to pull back from between your legs, shiny with your juices. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, swimming with pure need. “i’m going first,” he said, settling behind you. “been dying to fuck you again since the last time.”

sunghoon and jay didn’t argue. they simply shifted positions.

jake moved behind you, gripping your hips tightly and lining up his hard cock with your dripping entrance. without any warning or heads up, he pushed in with one deep thrust—bottoming out in a single stroke. 

“oh, fuuuck…” he groaned aloud, head falling back as your tight walls clenched around him. “still so ’ tight… missed this pussy so much.” jake started thrusting—deep strokes that rocked your body forward.

at the same time, sunghoon knelt in front of you. he grabbed your hair gently but firmly, guiding your mouth to his cock. “open up,” he ordered quietly. you obeyed, lips parting as he slid his thick length into your mouth. sunghoon let out a groan, eyes half–lidded as he watched you take him inch by inch.

jay moved to your side, kneeling close enough that his cock was right next to your face. your hand instinctively wrapped around his length, stroking his wet cock while you sucked his best friend’s. 

the room filled with wet, porno sounds—jake’s hips slapping against your ass as he fucked you from behind, the slick sounds of your mouth working sunghoon’s dick, and your hand pumping jay’s length. every now and then, jake would slap you ass—gripping, squeezing, and spreading and watched as your asshole twitched. 

“aw, pretty baby,” jay grunted, wrapping his bigger hand around yours as he guided you through it out. “taking all three of us so well, mm? perfect girl.”

next to him, sunghoon scoffed. jake panted and runted like a dog—gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. “oh—hah—you feel so good, oh fuck, i missed this so much—missed you so much.”

sunghoon glanced at jake before his hand tightened in your hair, guiding your head as he picked up his pace fucking your mouth. “that’s it… suck me just like that—how you’d do with all the other guys, babe.”

jay groaned, hips twitching into your fist. “yeah—? do you have other guys you’re fucking aside us, yn?”

you instantly shook your head as much as you could with sunghoon’s cock buried in your mouth, a desperate, muffled, “mm—mm” vibrating around him. 

“right,” sunghoon clicked his tongue. the memory of you getting hit on by heeseung playing in the back of his head. if you were able to hide jake and jay from him for months—who knew who else?

every thrust from jake pushed you forward onto sunghoon’s cock, forcing you to take him even deeper down your throat. you were gagging around him, drool slipping from the corners of your mouth but you kept sucking.

jake’s rhythm started to falter. his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully as he fucked you harder from behind. “hah—i’m close, oh god,” he groaned. “wanna fill you up—i can fill you up, right? hngh—you’ll let me?”

he slammed into you a few more times, deep and desperate, burying himself to the hilt. now—jay and sunghoon never knew jake was someone who’s into this but who were they to judge? the contrast between how you were with jake, sunghoon, and jay made them want to laugh.

with jay, you’re treated as the princess of the princess—sweet, gentle, kind words—like you’re the girlfriend. with jake, you got to order and command—and he’s always so fucking into being called a good boy. with sunghoon? with sunghoon—you’re the brat that needed some punishment. 

you nodded your head and that was all jake needed. 

“hah—cumming—” he rasped. you felt the first hot spurts of his cum flood deep inside you. the puppy boy kept grinding into you, milking every drop as he creampied you, his cock twitching. a low whine escaped your throat, muffled.

when jake finally pulled out, a thick trail of his cum leaked from your cunt.

“next,” jake panted, voice hoarse as he moved aside.

they filled you onto your back. 

the player immediately took his place between your legs, but instead of fucking you missionary, he turned you slightly onto your side. he lifted your top leg, hooking it over his hip, and instantly slid his throbbing cock into your cum–filled cunt in one thrust. 

“ah—! jay!” you moaned aloud, followed by jay’s groan. the warmth from jake’s cum wasn’t helping the situation at all. it felt so fucking good. “she’s so slippery with your cum, jake… so filthy.”

he started fucking you from the side—deep, rolling thrusts that let him hit every sensitive spot. you’re beyond embarrassed at this point. your creamy pussy that gushes cum with each thrust, how exposed and bare and wet you were for the other two boys to see. 

you wondered if this was the consequences of your actions. 

jake moved up beside your head, still breathing hard. he groped your tits greeding—how he loved them—squeezing and kneading, pinching your sweaty nipples as he leaned down to kiss and bite along your neck.

‘hngh—yn, i love these so much,” he muffled, sucking and tugging at your boobs. “so soft, you’re so squishy.” 

sunghoon shifted to your other side, cupping your jaw and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. his tongue slid against yours while jay continued fucking you from the side, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your creampied pussy filling the room.

sunghoon kissed you like he couldn’t bear not doing anything while the other two boys had their fun. he was almost annoyed and pissed that they just had to interrupt him having you all to himself earlier. 

“is this what you like?” jake murmured against your neck, his hands never stopping roaming. he groped your breasts, rolled your nipples between his fingers, then slid one hand down to rub your clit in lazy circles while jay thrusted into you. “taking jay’s dick right after i filled you up… you’re so hot, yn.”

“hngh—jay, oh fuck, you’re so big—” you moaned into sunghoon’s mouth in which he instantly shut you up. jay groaned, picking up the pace, hips snapping harder. “fuck. i can feel your cum every time i push in, jake. poor sweetheart, do you like this, baby?”

sunghoon pulled back from the kiss just enough to let you breathe, lips brushing yours. “answer him while he’s fucking you.”

your body trembled between the three guys as you answered: “yes, yes, yesyesyes—! i—i love all three of you, oh my fuck!” you cried out, chasing sunghoon’s lips as you began sucking his bottom lip. you moaned shamelessly into his mouth while jay’s cock dragged against your walls.  

“we love you too.”

behind you, jay smirked—and jake couldn’t help from smiling. 

“show us how much you love it, please?” jake murmured against your nipple, his fingers never slowing down—pressing and rubbing your clit. “squirt for us—make a mess all over jay’s dick.”

he began rubbing harder—and the pressure coiled fast. too fast.

before you knew it, your thighs started shaking uncontrollably. your back arched sharply as jake’s fingers and jay’s cock worked you together. “oh, i’m gonna—!”

you didn’t even get to finish. 

with a loud, broken cry, you squired around jay’s cock. clear fluid gushed out of you, soaking jay’s hips, the sheets, and jake’s hand. your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching and pulsing violently. 

“fuck—!” jay groaned, eyes rolling back as your walls squeezed him like a vice. the feeling of you squiring all over him while still full of jake’s cum pushed him over the edge. without any warning, he buried himself deep and came—thick ropes of cum shooting right inside. 

he kept grinding into you through his orgasm, pushing every drop deeper as your squirt continued to leak around his cock. 

sunghoon watched the while thing, still kissing you through your high, swallowing every broken moan and whimper. 

when jay finally stilled, panting against your shoulder, the room was filled with heavy breathing and the obscene sound of cum and squirt dripping onto the sheets. jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your nipple while his fingers slowed on your oversensitive clit.

“good girl…” jay murmured, kissing your temple. “such a perfect girl.”

jay pulled out slowly, another mix of squirt and both their cum leaking out of your used cunt like whipped cream, jay smirked, giving your ass a squeeze. 

“my turn.”

sunghoon didn’t waste a single second.

he moved between your legs, pushing them wide open as he settled on top of you in full missionary, his frame caged you in, eyes locked onto yours that always made your tummy flip. without warning, he slid two fingers deep into your cum–filled pussy, curcling them instantly.

“hah—hoonie—!” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he started fingering you—fast and deep, wet sounds loud and filthy as he stirred jake and jay’s cum inside you. “feel that, babe? he muttered. “so full already—yet so slutty for more.”

he pumped his fingers harder, scissoring them, pushing the mixed loads deeper while his thumb rub your swollen clit. your legs trembled around him, overstimulation making tears prick.

only when you were whimpering and gasping did sunghoon finally pull his fingers out. he brought them up to your mouth.

“clean ‘em.”

you obediently opened your lips, sucking his fingers clean of the messy mix of cum while he watched. then, he lined up his thick, needy cock—and pushed into you in one deep thrust, slow enough to let you feel every inch and veins of him. 

a broken moan tore from your throat.

sunghoon bottomed out, holding your hips. “shit… so warm and wet,” he breathed, and began to move. his thrusts were hard and deliberate, hips snapping forward with every stroke, driving jake and jay’s cum even deeper.

he kept you in missionary the whole time—face to face, eyes locked, his body pressed flush against yours. one hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider. the other slid up to wrap gently around your throat, holding you there.

“open your mouth.” 

you obeyed instantly, lips paring, tongue slightly out naturally.

sunghoon leaned in first. he gathered spit in his mouth and let it drop slowly onto your tongue, watching with a smirk as it landed right on your tongue. jake moved in simultaneously, hovering above you as he spat directly into your open mouth, a thick string of saliva mixing with sunghoon’s. jay too—tilted your head upward gently before spitting into your mouth as well. 

all three of their spit mixed together on your tongue—so fucking humiliating in the best way. 

“swallow, baby, c’mon,” jay murmured, kissing your cheek. sunghoon tightened his grip on your throat just a little, you swallowed the thick saliva, throat bobbing under his palm. the taste of all three of them made your pussy clench hard around sunghoon’s cock.

“fuck, she just squeezed me,” sunghoon groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. “such a nasty little cumslut.”

jake chuckled, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth as he palmed your tits. jay’s hand slid down to rub your clit as sunghoon pounded into you deeply—”nasty little girl, look at you,” jay murmured, caressing your hair.

“you love being used like this? who taught you to be so slutty, baby, hm?”

sunghoon’s eyes never left yours—your half–lidded, crossed, rolled to the back glossy eyes. he fucked you relentlessly, wet squelching sounds of his cock stirring the mixed cum inside you filling the room. his hand stayed around your throat as he fucked your cunt like a fleshlight, claming while jake had his fun with your tits, and jay continued teasing your clit from the side.

you were a complete mess—trembling, moaning, drooling… barely got to focus on the moving ceiling above. your tits bounced and jiggled with every thrust—a sight jake could cum alone. 

sunghoon’s thrusts grew sharper, deeper, and more desperate. his grip on you throat tightened just a fraction as he groaned against your lips. “fuck… ‘m cummin’—”

he straightened up, canines digging into his bottom lip as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. the hardest he’s ever ejaculated. thick, hot ropes of cum flooded and washed over deep inside you, mixing with the cum from jake and jay before. 

as usual, he kept grinding into you, pushing every drop as deep as possible while his cock twitched inside your overused, overfilled pussy.

at the same time, the two boys kneeled on either side of your head—jerking themselves off furiously above you, breathing heavily. “shit, shit, shit,” jay rasped, thick spurts of cum landing across your tits and collarbones. 

“oh, gosh, yn, please,” jake whimpered, following just right after as he painted your face and chest with more warm cum. their softened cocks rested on your chest, with jay’s twitching again as it rubbed your nipple.

you lay there, panting, body covered in their cum—tits glistening like you milked out semen, pussy leaking a creamy mix of all three of them, throat marked from sunghoon’s hands and jake’s bites, lips swollen from jay’s kisses. 

the room was silent except for heavy breathing and panting.

sunghoon pulled out—agonisingly slow—watching his thick cum drip and burst out from your stretched hole. fuck—what a sight, he thought. he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time. your pussy twitched and spasmed around nothing, thighs trembling with orgasm as you shivered. 

jay leaned to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. jake’s softened cock caressed your other cheek as the owner pumped the mixed cum back inside your puffy pussy with his fingers. sunghoon pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips. 

“you’re our secret girl now.”

you lay between them—as the three sworn, soulmates bestfriends who used to swear they had no secrets finally agreed on one secret: they would share their perfect little side chick—away from their girlfriends, and away from all the other guys out there.

“No like, I’m serious I want to change!” You exclaim in frustration as you lay your head on your best friend’s shoulder.

“Mhm, sure you do miss hello kitty pajama pants and pigtails.” She says between stuffing her face with Takis.

“Laraaaaa!” You whine as you puff your cheeks out in frustration. “Not like that! Like—I want to be more adventurous. Mature a little. Of course I like what I like but I wanna get wiiiild!” You ramble excitedly, dragging the last part out.

Lara turns her attention away from the tv screen to look at you. “What exactly do you mean by that?” She asks, quirking up an eyebrow. You plop your head down on the back of the couch dramatically and stare at the ceiling.

“I feel like I’m so uptight. And kind of lame. You know I’ve always been kind of a stickler. I told myself that once I got into a good college I’d let loose…but it’s already almost the second semester of sophomore year and I haven’t even kissed a guy yet. Or done anything reckless. I wanna smoke weed!” You complain.

Lara’s mouth hands open at your words. “Oh HELL no. You don’t even seem like the type to-“ she pauses for a minute to collect her words before sighing defeatedly. “You know what, I can’t stop you if this is what you really want. And hey, maybe this will be good for you.” You look at her and grin. She was finally coming around—not that you needed her permission— but she typically gave good advice, so you wanted to clear it with her first. 

“But,” she spoke again, “you have to promise me two things!” You look at her expectedly, eyes practically sparkling at this point. 

“Number one. Your first time smoking will be with me.” You nod. “Aaaaaand! Two, you’ll get the weed yourself. Just to prove that you’re really up to it.” 

“Huh???” You say blankly, completely dumbfounded. You never thought about actually acquiring it before. You were wracking your brain for ways to get it, research that you had to do, and—and! And Lara bursts out into laughter.

“Dude you’re hilarious.” She says as she wipes her tears with a manicured finger. “Anyways, just go to that one boy. Nishi…Ni-ki I think his name is? I know him as the campus plug. He’s usually at parties, and Jay is throwing one next week. Spark up a convo and get him to give you his prices. We can go half on it.” 

You agreed excitedly, deciding that this was the start of your new life as an adult. Plus, you were always so stressed. You heard that it could calm you down. Worth a try! In terms of parties, you haven’t been to many. You’d rather spend your nights cuddled up in bed with your plushies reading a good historical romance or watching your favorite show. Nowadays, you can’t help but feel like you’re sort of depriving yourself of experiences. 

The sleepover reached the ‘scroll on your phones and enjoy each other’s presence’ phase and you were laying in Lara’s bed with your feet kicked up. You wanted to do some stalking on Instagram to see what you were getting into messing with this Ni-ki boy. 

Nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you clicked on his page. You captured your plush lips between your teeth as you zoomed in on one of his pictures. He was gorgeous, and exactly your type.

“Hey Lara?” You say shakily. She hums loudly in response. “You didn’t tell me that Ni-ki is fine as hell.” Your words were definite. Dead serious. Your shocked facial expression ticked Lara.

She lets out a lighthearted giggle. “I suppose he is your type, huh. Whoops! Does that make it harder?”

“Infinitely. But I also want to kiss him now. Can I add that to my checklist?” You say dreamily. You zoom in to get a better look at his face (as if you haven’t been ogling already) when your finger slips and you accidentally like it. You throw your phone on the bed as if that would undo your actions. 

Lara looks over at you from her spot propped up against her headboard. “Whats gotten into you?” 

“I just-I just accidentally liked his post.”

“From how long ago?”

“Umm…” you pick your phone back up to check. “Three months…”

…

“Yeah you might be fucked, Y/N” 

You slam your head into the blanket and fake cry  dramatically. “Hopefully…*sniff*…hopefully by him *hic*”

You jolt upwards as you feel the impact of a pillow hit your head. 

“Girl shut your virgin ass up!” Lara exclaims with a grin on her face. 

—

When you wake up the following morning, you grab your phone to do your daily morning doom scrolling. You surf through TikTok, Snapchat and Instagram you see that you have notifications. You click on the top right hand of your screen when a particular notif catches your eye.

Chr0m3_ki005 has started following you

Your mouth drops open as you let out a silent scream and wiggle around. The commotion wakes Lara, who lets out a groggy groan. 

“He just followed me!” You whisper-yell enthusiastically. She just groans and mumbled something incoherent as she turns over in bed.

You hurriedly click the follow back button, and it’s not long before a text notification pops up on your screen. A simple “hey” from ni-ki. You were going to wake Lara up initially so that you could ask her for advice on what to say next, but you decided to navigate this one on your own. You made a promise after all. 

While you were fantasizing about how this interaction could lead to a relationship with him, your phone buzzed again. Upon reading the message, your heart dropped.

“why r u stalking? lol” 

Lara was right. You totally are screwed. You force yourself to respond, typing out whatever apologizes your mind can conjure up in its frenzied state. 

“Sorry”

“Got your insta frommyfriend”

“Neededto ask you something”

Your hands shake and you internally wince at the typos as he begins to type again. 

“Wsp”

Simple. You can do this. 

“It’ll be better in person. Will you be at Jay’s party next week?”  

There was a slight pause before he responded.

“Wasn’t planning on it but ia go for u” 

“Cya there pinkie” 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding

'Okay, I can do this' you think to yourself. Step one, check!

—

“What do I even wear to an event like this?” You complained as you held two tops up to your frame.

“Something hot.” A voice called from behind you. Lara was sitting on the edge of your bed as she scrolled mindlessly on her phone.

“I don’t have anything hot!” You complained.

Lara looked up from her phone with a raised eyebrow. “Uh-yeah you do. You’re just addicted to layering.” She says matter-of-factly as she stands up from her position to make her way to your closet.  Lara hums as she taps her foot, eyes scanning your clothes for a couple seconds before reaching for to pieces. 

“Here,” She says as she pushes the articles of clothing in your direction. “Wear these!” 

You stared at the items in front of you and bit back a protest. The pink sequined cami had only previously been worn on top of something else, but the jean skirt was normal for you. Noticing your hesitation, Lara spoke up. “Come onnn! You’ll look so good. It’s not too scandalous—and hey! Don’t you want to impress ni-ki?” She says, wiggling her eyebrows. 

You giggle as you take the hangers from her hands and make your way over to the bathroom to change. You have to admit, Lara was right. As per usual. You looked good. You stepped out of the bathroom radiating confidence with a shy grin on your face. The dramatic gasp of your friend fills your ears. 

“Ugh!” She wipes a fake tear. “I’ve truly outdone myself, now let’s get going!”

It was time for phase two of the plan.

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were instantly overwhelmed. You were met with loud music that you knew you didn’t listen to. It seemed to shake the foundation of the house. And the people—there were so many people. Dancing, flirting, making out. The air was buzzing with a sort of electricity that jolted you awake. You looked over at Lara who squeezed your hand in reassurance. 

Most of the night consisted of you following her around like a lost puppy. Lingering behind her as she talked to a man you later found out to be named “Sungmin” , and whoever else she knew casually. Feeling out of place and maybe a little left out, you made your way over to the kitchen to grab a drink. The cold water in the already melted cooler bit your hand as you fished around for anything non-alcoholic. Your fingers dripped with ice water after pulling out a sprite. You poured it into a red cup. Can’t have anyone knowing you’re “lame” right? Coming up from your squatted position, you accidentally bump into a figure behind you. You whip your head around as you rush to apologize in fear of getting on anyone’s bad side, but you end up being met with the most non threatening face ever. You recognized him from your philosophy class. What was his name…

“Jungwon?” 

“Oh! Hey y/n. What brings you here? Didn’t take you to be the party type.” He inquires with a grin. 

“Sorry for bumping into you! Anyways, it’s kind of complicated. I made a bet with Lara and… I’m here now.” You trail off meekly. He just hums in response with a slight nod. 

“I’ll have to say, you should go out more. You look cute—I mean, you always do—But I like seeing this side of you!” He says with a smile and a wink, your face turning a noticeable shade of pink. Your eyes darted down from his, skimming past his dimples and falling to the ground. Suddenly your clothes feel too tight and your skirt too short.

“Thanks…you look good too?” You say, not really knowing how to respond.

Desperate for any sort of relief from your awkwardness, you continued to converse with Jungwon. The two of you caught up more deeply, typically it was small talk, but today you got to experience more of him. It was an unexpected advancement, but there was no harm in getting to know the handsome man. Besides, maybe this could be good for you.

Somehow throughout your conversation, you ended up trailing him towards the vacant couch in the living room. Most of his friends were there (that you knew of). Your eyes landed on the infamous Jay, who was hosting the party. He exuded an air of confidence and effortlessness—that is until he laughed so hard at a joke his friend Jake made that he fell out of his seat. You giggled at the interaction. You must admit, you could get used to the sight of this, these guys were so good looking that they could almost be in a boyband. 

Settling yourself next to Jungwon, you noticed his demeanor shift—the arm that was once on the back of the couch draped lazily to where it was barely touching your shoulder. You tensed up. “Y/N? You okay? Want something else to drink?” He asked, his concern flattering you. You thought about the sprite you had forgotten in the kitchen. You wouldn’t dare touch it now.

“A water, please.” You say with a hesitant nod. The couch dips beneath you as he gets up, and your eyes can’t help but trail his figure. Finally feeling like you can breathe, you sink into the back of the couch. The cool leather greets your hair as you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. 

Cologne and…a pungent smell that almost burns your nostrils. What the…where’d that come from? You thought to yourself. You begin to crack your eyes open when you feel breath fanning against your ear.

“Found you.”

Your eyes flew open and you whipped your head around only to be face to face with the heartthrob you dmed previously—the infamous Riki Nishimura. Speechless, you just blinked at him in surprise. 

The deep, husky tone of his voice caught you off guard once again. “Not gonna say anything? Even after I came here just for you?” He sighs, walking around and making himself comfortable next to you on the couch.

“Sorry! I just kinda…forgot?” You say with a sheepish smile. It’s true, as soon as you lost Lara, your head kind of went empty. 

He just smirks. “I’m hurt.”  His face , however, showed no ounce of sadness. His nonchalant attitude complemented his equally chill outfit. An oversized white tee and some black sweats, all

pulled together by an assortment of silver jewelry and some Rick Owen’s on his feet.

Your eyes widen as you profusely apologize. Ni-ki lets out a deep laugh. “Relax, I’m just joking. No need to get all worked up.” He leans in close to you, causing your breath to catch unexpectedly. “You’re like uh…neurotic like a little bunny” he observes. The proximity makes your face flush with rose. You swallow audibly.

Ni-ki just chuckles again and leans back. His hands lazily rest behind his head before he begins to speak “So…what was so important that you needed to see me in person?”

You perk up instantly. “Ah right!” Your sudden burst of energy causes his lip to twitch upwards, suddenly anticipating what you were gonna say. You lean over towards his ear. “I heard you…well um…I need—!” Ni-ki cuts you off with a cocky grin.

“I mean you’re not usually my type but…since you’re asking so nicely I could arrange something—“ your eyes widen in embarrassment as he misreads your intentions. “N-no I want you to sell me weed!” You whisper-yell. This time, it’s his turn to be shocked. His plump lips fall into an ‘o’ shape as he furrows his eyebrows. 

You look at him expectantly with pleading eyes as you wait for his response. 

“You?” Is all he says. You nod tentatively in response. 

“No way in hell. You’re not gonna get me in trouble.”

Your eyebrows furrow in defiance. “I’m serious and I won’t! I’m not a snitch! I just…wanna try something new. Plus I made a bet with someone.” Ni-ki just scoffs as you pout. 

“That’s even more of a reason for me not to agree. No means no, bun.” 

“But…” you trail off, wracking your brain for another defense. 

His eyes fall onto your lips as he leans in once again. “Someone like you has no business dealing with a bad guy like me,” he says sarcastically, twirling a tendril of your hair around his finger.

“So,” he begins again as he presses it to his lips, “Keep being a good girl and stay away, kay?” 

“Y/N~” a sing-songy voice calls out in the distance. Jungwon had returned. Ni-ki drops his hand and your hair falls back into place. You turn to look at Jungwon pacing towards you with the water you requested. “Sorry it took so long, I got caught up and—oh, hey Ni-ki!” He says, noticing the male on the other side of you. 

“Hey Jungwon I’m just heading out, I’ll see you guys later.” He says, lazily waving at his friends before heading towards the door. “Ni-ki—“ you call out at his retreating figure. He doesn’t turn around. He just puts up a peace sign and bends his fingers as if to mimic a rabbit. His special way of telling you to piss off. You sigh in defeat.

“That was odd,” says Jungwon. You prepare to defend yourself. “I mean, I wonder why he didn’t stick around like he usually does.” You release a breath you didn’t know that you were holding. You look at Jungwon and nod, signifying that your attention was back on him. Despite this, your mind was on Ni-ki. You couldn’t help it. He was alluring. And plus, you had something to prove to yourself. No way you were giving up. 

You were practically nodding off by the time Lara found you.

“Y/N! There you are. Geez, don’t run off like that!” She says, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up. You said your goodbyes to Jungwon and made your way out the door. As soon as you step out the door, Lara asks the question you were dreading. 

“So…did you do it?”

Of course you know what it is. Did you get any details from Ni-ki? The short answer:

“No. Well, I tried.” You say with a sigh. “He wouldn’t budge. No prices, no info, nothing.”

Lara quirks at you puzzled. “That’s…really weird. Did he say why?”

“Something about how I shouldn’t get involved with him and that he doesn’t wanna get in trouble.” You puff out your cheeked and cross your arms. It’s not like you’re that much of a goody two shoes—especially not enough for him to flat out deny you right off the bat. 

Lara just shrugs. “Oh well. You’ve already made pretty big steps tonight anyways.” She nudges you with her elbow as the two of you walk to her car. “You and Jungwon, eh?” 

You wave your hands frantically. “No! Just small talk. Since he’s in one of my classes and all.” She rolls her eyes 

“For now, sure.” 

—-

You hadn’t seen Ni-ki since that day at the party, but you haven’t dared to text him because of your fear of rejection. Again. 

But it’s seriously driving you crazy. Despite his cold bluntness, he still does things like your story when you post a selfie or an ootd; Slides up with flirty messages here and there. It’s like he’s deliberately trying to keep himself on your mind. 

Its working.

You often find yourself mindlessly scrolling on his page when you can’t sleep, holding your phone with a firm grip so as to not accidentally like an old post again. You flip through his pictures, zooming into his face and then back out to his outfits and tucking your plush bottom lip into your teeth. It only stops when you get a guilty feeling following the wetness in your shorts. 

You always tried so hard—you think—to ignore him. Especially with Jungwon in the back of your mind. The two of you had been chatting since the party, but you just couldn’t feel a spark with him. Not while your brain was clouded by a man who barely paid any attention to you. You bury your head in your pillow and try to sleep.

—

And then the second semester came. New classes, new opportunities! Sort of. You were feeling confident though, you’ve certainly opened up a bit. You can finally say you’re becoming an adult you’re proud of. It’s the first day of classes, so you decide to make an effort. Albeit the sweater & skirt combo wasn’t the best choice for the chilly weather. 

You welcome the warmth of the building you step into. Following the unfamiliar path that the campus map was leading you down, you attempted to make your way into the lecture hall that your Art History class is located in. Upon entering the classroom, you walk up the stairs and towards random seat near the middle. The chair squeaks as you pull it out from underneath the desk as if it’s inviting you to take a seat. You observe your surroundings, mostly unfamiliar people and some girls you had previous classes with. You made small talk with the people around you until the professor entered the room. 

The class starts without a hitch. You’re engrossed in the lesson, which mostly consisted of ice breakers and the semester’s syllabus, when a slight disturbance causes the professor to pause in his tracks. A late student enters the lecture hall, to which your professor just sighs.

“Take a seat,” he says. Your eyes dart over to the disruptive student in question, and your heart falls to your stomach. Nishimura Riki. 

Most of the aisle seats as well as the back have completely been filled up, leaving only the frontward/middle seats available—exactly where you were sitting. As Ni-ki scanned for available seats, your eyes met. You quickly looked away, trying to focus your attention on the lesson. It wasn’t long before the familiar scent of cologne filled your nose. With your luck, Ni-ki had chosen to sit right next to you. 

You nodded your head in acknowledgment to him, despite you mentally freaking out. 

Ni-ki’s presence was suffocating. No matter how much you tried, you simply just couldn’t ignore him. Your eyes often drifted from the screen to his side profile, and you couldn’t help but stare at him in all of his perfection. It was embarrassing, really. You snap back into reality and begin taking notes as the professor advised, but it’s not long before your eyes betray you yet again, only to be met with Ni-ki staring directly at you. His unanticipated gaze makes you jump. 

“W-what?” You whisper yell. 

“I was just thinking, you look more like a bunny today than usual.” He mused, gesturing towards your hair that was styled in pigtails. His cocky smirk frustrates you. 

“Stop being weird and just say I’m cute.” You say as you roll your eyes and direct your attention back to your notes.

“Okay, you’re cute. And you look like a bunny.” Ni-ki says, obviously enjoying the shocked reaction you have. 

You just mumbled a thanks and tried to focus on the monotonous lesson.

“Well that’s all for today. We’ll get into the nitty gritty of everything next class.” And with that, the class was finished.

Ni-ki let out a dramatic groan as he stretched and got up from his seat. Students were excitedly flooding out the doors. 

“Um—wait!” You call out, grabbing onto the sleeve of Niki’s hoodie as he was about to leave. 

He turns around and looks at you quizzically. 

“Uh, prices?” You ask with a sheepish smile, dropping his sleeve and hoping to continue the conversation from last time. 

Ni-ki just smirks. “It’s about $5 for a pack of gummy bears from the campus café.” And with that, he walks away.

What an asshole.

—

No matter how much you pester Ni-ki about buying from him, he won’t budge. It doesn’t matter how many times you come up to him before or after class, on campus, at parties, anything. It’s always the same brand of answers. 

“No.”

“Ffffuck no.”

“What are you willing to do for it?” (Accompanied by a wink)

“Say pretty please and give me those puppy dog eyes of yours?” 

“Maybe if you beg harder I’ll tell you next time.”

Or recently, “Aww you want me to corrupt you so bad,” he said leaning in close to your ear with a fake pout. That one made you feel—different. 

You haven’t asked since then. You’ve completely aborted your mission. You told Lara and that was that, plus, you don’t really need to do drugs to become an adult. That was just a stupid fleeting idea borne out of desperation. You can’t deny that you’re still curious though. You dropped it regardless. 

That brings you to tonight. You were walking to the convenience store on campus to stock up on snacks when you recognized a familiar figure seated on a bench, the man you had finally stoped pestering—the handsome Ni-ki. You walked towards him until you were standing in front of him. Immediately, you smelled him. Cologne, of course, but also that same pungent smell he was sporting the same day you met him. He was unaware of your presence, manspreading as his head was tilted back with his eyes shut. You couldn’t lie, you were kind of concerned about his odd behavior. 

“Ni-ki?” You called out tentatively. 

He hummed in response, tilting his head towards your voice. His eyes peered open and you were taken aback. His pretty eyes were tinged with pink and appeared to be watery. 

“Oh, Y/NNNN.” He stated nonchalantly, slurring his words a bit.

Concerned, you cupped his cheeks and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay, have you been crying??” You tilt his head at different angles as if to observe tears waiting to fall.

Ni-ki blinks once before bursting into crude laughter. You stand there shocked as he grabs your hands and pulls you into him. Your cheeks flush as your senses become overwhelmed with him.

“You’re so funny. Seriously.” He mumbles. You feel him smile into your hair. You push yourself off of him as you stand up and fake annoyance, smoothing out your clothes. 

“Jeez, I was worried for nothing, you’re just high, aren’t you?” You say, pouting a little. “Why are you out here in the first place?”

“I wanted to take a walk to sober up, but the breeze felt too good to go back inside.” He admits. 

You just nod as you begin to walk away. “I’ll see you around then?” 

“No.” 

“Huh?” You ask bewilderedly.

“I’m coming with. You’re too tiny to go around the campus alone at night.” He states matter of factly.

You just shrug and wait for him to stand up and catch up. Ni-ki looms behind you like a shadow, his large frame admittedly making you feel a bit more safe as he trails you.

“Where are you off to this late, anyways?” He inquires, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you almost accusatory. Weird.

You look up at him. “Grabbing snacks.” He just nods. 

As soon as the two of you enter the convenience store,you loose sight of him. You just shrug and look for your snacks. By the time you’re finished shopping, he’s waiting outside for you holding a bag of his own. His “rbf” slightly turns into a more neutral expression when he sees you. 

“Sorry I took so long. I had a lot to buy.” You say, lifting up your stuffed bags with a sheepish smile. To your surprise, he takes them from you. Ni-ki quirks up an eyebrow at your bewilderment. “Lead the way back?”

You snap out of it and nod as you begin to walk. 

“Ah, wait. Y/N go in my hoodie pocket, quick.” Ni-ki calls out. You turn around and oblige, pulling out what appears to be a dessert of some sort. 

“Taiyaki ice cream. Try it, it’s my favorite. Consider it payment for being worried about me.” He says with a genuine smile, not a smirk this time. You blush as you open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s yummy, the sweetness is just your taste, and the soft pastry texture of the outside complements the ice cream perfectly. You look at him and nod excitedly.

“Good, right? I ate mine while I was waiting for you.” 

The two of you make your way back to your dorm, side by side this time. 

“I do wonder, though” you speak up in between bites. “Why the hell did you put ice cream in your pocket? Mine is melting so fast!” 

He just tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly. “Mmmm I forgot.” You drop it with a giggle, not wanting to argue with his intoxicated state. For once you wished the night wouldn’t end. You savor this moment, gone was the tension between you and Ni-ki. Now, you felt butterflies and comfort. You can’t help but entertain the possibility of the two of you. 

As you reach the doors to your dorm hall, you hurriedly try to finish eating your dessert so that you can grab the bags from him. You stuff a bit too much in your mouth causing a trail of melted ice cream to dribble down your chin. 

“Mmph!” You exclaim in embarrassment as you dig through your purse to fish out a tissue. You hear the plastic bags suddenly hit the ground as Ni-ki comes closer to you. A warm hand rests on your chin, and your head is tilted up to meet his intense gaze. You choke down your food and stammer out a quiet “huh?”. Ni-ki silently dips down a bit.

You feel it before your brain processes anything. Warm and wet. Ni-ki’s tongue darts out to lick a long, painful stripe up your chin to the corner of your mouth, following the path the ice cream fell.  You let out an embarrassing whimper at the stimulation, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. 

“No wasting food.” He says with a satisfied nod, his tongue licking his lips seductively. He looks almost confused at your silence as he hands your bags back to you. His intoxicated brain is slow to process his actions. Until he notices you squirming, that is. He grins smugly as he lowers himself towards your ear. “Oh? What’s wrong?” He teases before pulling away and turning around. “Night Y/N.”

You’re fucked. Again.

—

You’ve been distracted lately. How couldn’t you be? You have to face Ni-ki—who just had his tongue on you—twice a week for class. And the worst part? He acts like nothing happened. Of course there’s still the flirty moments here and there, but you’ve accepted them as part of his personality. Was he aware of the effect he had on you?

Intoxicated isn’t even the word. It’s far worse. Your senses are filled with Ni-ki. The fleeting touch when your fingers brush against each others while passing papers, the smooth scent of his cologne tinged with what was undoubtedly cannabis, and the taste of taiyaki ice cream that seemed to never leave your mouth. And oh, you can’t forget about that handsome face, certainly not. Not when you try so desperately to ignore it during class. It’s a futile attempt. So, whenever you catch yourself rubbing your thighs together or tucking a lip between your teeth in his vicinity, you want to bang your head against the wall. 

“Then do something about it,” Lara says, resting a chin on your pillow. You had decided to confide in her about how you’ve been feeling.

“I mean, Ni-ki is pretty strict about who he hangs around. I’ve never seen him consistently be with someone other than that friend group other than you. Why not try and take it a step further?”  

It’s not like you’ve never considered the possibility, but having all of your firsts with someone who was obviously more experienced than you was kind of scary…not to mention the imminent fear of rejection. 

“What if he doesn’t like me like that?” You ask her quietly. You were really asking yourself.

“Better to know then to have a one sided crush for the rest of your college days!” She says with a comforting smile.

You carefully considered her words, mind darting back to the look in his eyes that night you found him alone. The way they sparkled when he realized that you were concerned about him, and how he flashed that boxy smile that you had never seen before. You sighed dreamily. You’d just have to find the right timing.

—

You come to class a bit early as usual. After laying your materials out, you pull out your phone to continue texting Jungwon. He texted you about an hour ago so that you could walk him through a project for a class you took last semester. Harmless and friendly, right? Being that you two were somewhat close, the conversations crift onto other topics often. It wasn’t long before you got engrossed in a conversation about what animals you two would assign to each of his friends. 

“Hey bunny.” Ni-ki monotonously called out as he slung his backpack down and took a seat next to you. You didn’t acknowledge his presence. Moreover, you seemed to be particularly occupied by your phone, softly giggling often. Ni-ki sucked his teeth as he leaned over to see what you were up to, and as usual, you smelled him first. You whipped your head around and turned your phone off as you noticed him, though not before he noticed the texts between you and “Jungwon🐱🍓” .

“Oh! hey Ni-ki!” You say as you jump a little, the events of the other night playing in your head like a broken record, “When did you get here?” 

His eyebrow twitched upwards in annoyance, but the rest of his face remained stoic. Unbeknownst to you, he was bothered by your apparent closeness with his friend.

“Quite a while ago, actually. Seems you were too distracted to say hi to me,” he moped. 

“Sorry, I was in the middle of something.” You say sheepishly. He just nods before the professor enters the room and begins to start the lesson.

“As you all know, midterms are coming up.” His voice booms, “But I’m feeling rather nice lately. This class has been relatively productive thusfar.”

“So, rather than a standard test I’ll have you do a group project. It’ll be a slideshow presentation along with a written report comparing modern artists to contemporary artists of today. Make sure to cite your sources. A full instructional sheet will be provided shortly.” He concludes.

A student raises their hand. “Can we choose our partners?” 

“No, groups of two-“ the students audibly groan in annoyance before the professor loudly clears his throat. “As I was saying, it will be determined on your seating chart.” The groans quickly turn into cheers as most people sat with their friends in the first place. 

After pulling up the seating chart, the professor began listing off groups. You held your breath as he neared your section of the classroom. Heart hammering in your chest, you couldn’t decide if partnering with Ni-ki would be a blessing or a curse.

“Soobin Choi and Yeonjun Choi……”

“…Y/N L/N and Riki Nishimura……” 

The beating in your chest never slowed as reality set in that you’d be spending much more time with Ni-ki. You nervously looked over at his pretty face, eyes never leaving the front of the classroom. It was hard not to wonder if he was just as nervous, but his recent nonchalance following that night made you feel like you had gone back to square one. 

You couldn’t suppress a sigh as you rested your cheek in the palms of your hands. 

Ni-ki took notice. “C’mon, working with me won’t be that bad,” Ni-ki chimed with a lilt. “I’ll pull my weight—mostly. I’m a hard worker!” 

You turn to meet his gaze, waving your hands in denial. The slight smile on his face made your heart melt. 

“No, no, my sigh was unrelated. It’ll be good working with you! I’m exited!” 

A corner of Niki’s mouth tilts upwards as he cocks his head to the side. “Is that so…?” 

Suddenly, you hear the professors voice urging everyone’s attention.  

“As I was saying, this project will test both your knowledge of past figures as well as how to perceive art…”

—

“… That’s all for today. Make sure to use the weekend to brainstorm and write up a draft.” 

The loud snap of people closing their laptops and notebooks jolts you awake from your lethargic state. After following suit, you begin to exit the class behind Ni-ki before he comes to a sudden halt. The plush material of his hoodie cradles your face as you smack into the expanse of his back. Ni-ki stifles a laugh as he looks back at you rubbing your nose with an annoyed expression on your face. 

“What was that for?” You ask, looking up at him as if you’d been betrayed. 

Ni-ki just shrugs. “I was thinking…You should come to my dorm on Saturday to write up a draft. I have a single so it’ll be quiet.” You look at him quizzically. A sophomore with a single?  Noticing your confused state, he explains himself with a shrug. “Roommate transferred last minute. Never got a new one.”

You nod softly before he turns around, the back of his hand bidding you goodbye in a lazy wave. You decided that you wouldn’t ponder the implications of spending the day alone with Ni-ki when there was a project at stake…not yet at least. Lara would be getting an earful regardless. Plus, a sophomore with a single? Score! You weren’t going to get that much peace and quiet anywhere else on campus, and who knew if the library would be busy tomorrow?

The walk back to your dorm seems longer than usual. Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You suddenly become uncomfortably aware of your surroundings; every gust of early-spring wind, the chatter from your peers shuffling to and from class, even the sound of your footsteps. You were on edge, undeniably so. You wanted to think about anything but Ni-ki, but your crush was consuming you. You had decided that this casual meetup with him was undeniably war. The conditions were too cliché—too perfect—to pass up the chance on making a move on him, or at least advancing your relationship with him. 

In the middle of getting embarrassingly engrossed in your plotting, a gentle yet commanding voice booms from behind you.

“Y/N!” You jolt as you whip your head around to the source of noise. You’re met with a dimple clad face grinning from ear to ear. Stopping in your tracks, you watch Jungwon jog up to you. “Hey-*pant* do you-*pant*…” He catches his breath, putting his hands on his knees and motioning for you to give a second, his disheveled state giving you a good laugh. “Hey Wonie, whenever you’re ready.” You say, unopposed to the sudden distraction. After he finally collects himself, he continues his question from before. “Do you have a second? I finished the final draft of the project I asked you about, and wanted an extra set of eyes to look it over before I submitted it.”

You pause to think a little. Sure, you were planning on ranting to one of your friends as soon as you got to your dorm, but a change of pace would be nice as well. Maybe it could clear your mind.

“I’ll buy you coffee?” He offers, cutely stuffing his hands into the pocket of his navy blue hoodie. 

“Deal!” 

The walk to the coffee shop was peaceful, the sounds of spring accompanying the two of you. Being with Jungwon was always comfortable, really. He was humming some sort of tune that seemed to go in tandem with the chirping of the birds. The setting would be romantic if it were- 

You stop yourself in your tracks. You were supposed to be clearing your mind, after all. Your gaze fixed itself onto Jungwon, and he returned the look with a smile. “What, do I look handsome or something?” He asked, his voice teetering between shy and joking. 

You scoffed, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. “Don’t ask silly questions, if you wanna be complemented so bad then ask any of the girls on campus.” You say matter-of-factly. An unknown emotion flickers in Jungwon’s eyes and he opens his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but it dies on his tongue as he observes your arrival at the cafe. He opens the door for you, and you internally curse at the loss of the beautiful climate outside. After ordering, the two of you settle down at one of the tables. He speaks first.

“Why hot chocolate instead of coffee?” He inquires. You guiltily scratch your head. 

“I don’t need the caffeine. I have too much to think about already, and I do not need to be staying up any later than I already will!” You say with a sigh.

“Is something troubling you? Wanna talk about it?” He asks, his concern touching you.

“It’s stupid, really-well-“ you stammer. Jungwon just takes a sip of his latte. 

“Do you think a guy can catch feelings after working on a project with a girl--alone—theoretically of course!” You ask earnestly, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Jungwon nearly spits out his drink. He coughs a bit before responding.

“I mean--it’s possible,.. with the proximity and whatnot.” He answers with an adverted gaze and blush evident on his face. 

With a hand on your chin, you nod as if in deep thought. “Okay okay… thank you!” You say, “Right, your project—sorry for making it about me. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

——

“Yeah it looks really good! No way you’ll get anything below a B.” You chime, complimenting Jungwon on his work. 

“Thanks Y/N, I can rest easy now.” He responds with a relieved sigh.

“Then I’ll see you later?” You ask, getting up to leave. Jungwon hurriedly stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Um..can I walk you back to your dorm? If you want—I have nothing better to do.” 

You just shrug and agree. What harm could it be? 

A mountain of harm, actually.

Upon nearing the doors of your dorm, you eye a familiar figure sitting on a nearby bench, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“Ni-ki?” You and Jungwon call out at the same time. He looks up to see you two standing in front of him, a bit too close to each other for his liking. “What the—“ he mutters under his breath. 

Jungwon looks at him with a raised eyebrow as you approach eagerly to make conversation. “What brings you here?” You ask.

“Forgot to ask you what time works for tomorrow. I’m a bit busy in the morning.” He says, eyes still switching between yours and Jungwon’s. 

You pause to think. “I think 5 or 6 would work best? Im free all evening.” You respond. Jungwons confused look turns almost accusatory as he attempts to figure out what the two of you are talking about. “Literally what could you guys be talking about?” He asked breathlessly. 

Ni-ki gets up from his seated position to stretch before lazily draping an arm over your shoulder and slightly pulling you towards him. He peers over at the perplexed Jungwon before saying “We got a project to work on.”

Confused, you speak again. “Ni-ki! W-why not just text me?” You stammer, blush evident on your face. He just shrugs.

“Don’t got your number.”

“…You have my instagram.” 

He shrugs again with a lazy grin, refusing to admit that he kind of just wanted to see you. “Forgot.”  

You just roll your eyes before turning your attention back to Jungwon. 

Jungwon internally goes through a multitude of emotions, and for a second, he thought he saw Ni-ki looking smug. No way you were talking about Ni-ki and not himself back at the café…Just when he thought he had finally found an in. Collecting himself, Jungwon smiles with an “Oh, okay.” Before slightly backing up. “See you guys later!” He exalaims before walking away. He couldn’t help but wonder what that weird tension between him and Ni-ki was, and what your relationship truly was. 

You turn your head towards Ni-ki who looks almost triumphant, a smirk plastered across his face as he looks down at you and says “6pm”. He taps your shoulder twice before releasing you from his hold. 

“Works for me,” you beam. 

A strange silence stretched between the two of you as Ni-ki as he peered down at your face. You attempted to speak up first with an “Um-“ he interrupted you. “Get back to your room,” he says, patting your head softly before turning on his heel to leave. You stand there dumbfounded. “Uh-You too!” You yell at his retreating figure. 

The walk to your room seems like it was over in a flash. Your mind was racing just as much as your heart was. It felt like with every interaction, you and Ni-ki got closer and closer. You couldn’t help but grin as you turned the door handle to your room, excited to share your day with Lara.

——

“So you’re telling me you two are going to be alone in his room at night? Yeah at least use protection.” You gasp at Lara’s crude ‘advice’. 

“No! I was hoping that we like…kiss or something.” You say, trailing off a bit at the end. Lara smiles.

“You’re so cute. I can see why you have a mini harem going on.”  You just look at her, a puzzled expression evident on your face. 

“Huh?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?!” She exclaims. “That whole story you just told me—Jungwon obviously likes you, and Ni-ki got jealous—I mean—come on—you think he put his arm around you just because?”

“…Yes?” 

Lara groans as she throws her head back dramatically. “Like I said, at least just use protection.”

You sigh as a way to admit defeat. You can’t like and say that you didn’t notice Jungwons friendliness, or his odd change in behavior after the interaction between you and Ni-ki. It sucks because you view him as a genuine friend. You wonder what tomorrow is going to be like. 

“Anyways,” you begin, “I need to devise a game plan.”

“A game plan?” Lara asks.

“Yes! To make tomorrow as romantic as possible!”

Lara rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “Just show up looking pretty like you usually do. Maybe an accidental brush of the hand—Im sure he’ll crack under like, zero pressure at this point.” 

“That simple?” You ask, dumbfounded.

“Trust me.”

And that you did.

—-

The following day, 4:30 rolled around and you were struggling to conjure up an outfit where you looked cute but weren’t obviously trying too hard. You were just working on a project, after all. Even though you were tempted, studying in a skirt seemed a bit too obvious. You opted for a cami under a zip-up hoodie with some flare leggings and boots. A little more casual than you’d prefer but you wanted to play it a little safe. It had been about an hour when you finished your makeup and packing your belongings to take over to Ni-ki’s. You still had to get actual work done, after all. As you exited your dorm, you opened your phone to send Ni-ki a text asking which hall he stayed in. After the Jungwon fiasco, he insisted that the two of you exchange numbers. He responds with the name and relative location, and you make your way over. Your heart seemed to beat louder in your ears with every step you took. The anticipation was nearly killing you. Every step you took seemed to take you closer to the point of no return.

Every part of your body gained a pulse as you opened the large glass doors to Ni-ki’s dorm hall. This was basically a date, after all. You took a deep breath before opening the glass door to the building, the material cool underneath your fingertips. You walked in, instantly feeling smaller than before, and reached into your pocket to fish out your phone. Your screen seemed to vibrate due to your lightly shaking hands as you alerted Ni-ki of your arrival via text. The silence between you and the desk attendant was suffocating as you waited awkwardly near the counter, their eyes flicking upward briefly to acknowledge your presence before resuming whatever they were doing on their computer. 

“Can I help you?” They asked monotonously. 

“Oh! Im just waiting for someone.” You answered back, a little too quickly. 

“Alright then.” 

…Seriously, how long was he gonna take?

You stared off into space for a little bit, taking notice of random things to keep yourself distracted. A minute or two pass before you hear a door opening. You pay no attention to this background noise until a shadow overs over your figure, causing you to look up from your trance. 

“Buuuuuunnyyyy~” Ni-ki calls out, looking down at you with his head slightly cocked to the side. Your face flushes instantly, realizing that you were well within earshot of the clearly displeased attendant. 

“Can you stop calling me that in public?!” You whisper yelled, glaring daggers him. 

“So it’s fine if it’s in private?” He shoots back with a rage inducing grin. You just sigh helplessly as your eyebrows furrow in embarrassment. 

“Just take me to your dorm already.” You say dejectedly. He laughs lightly as he leads the way through another set of doors where the elevators are located. After the two of you step in, you watch him press the button to the 5th floor and slump against the wall. Your phone feels heavy in your pocket as you remember that you promised to update Lara. You take it out and sent her a quick text that read ‘I’m going in’, and await her response. You look up from your phone to find Ni-ki staring at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Who’re you texting?”

You look at him with a surprised expression because of his odd nosiness, but use It as an opportunity to tease him.

“My new plug,” You say with a cruel smile. His pretty face instantly contorts, mouth hanging open slightly as he thinks of a response. 

“Liar. Not a funny joke.” 

You just giggle as you look down to see a message reading ‘good luck soldier, remember what I said’ from Lara. You shove your phone back in your pocket. The beep of the elevator alerts you of your arrival to the correct floor, and you follow him to his room. With a press of his card, the two of you step inside. 

The space is a bit bigger than you expected, at least for dorm standards. Everything in Ni-ki’s room was a shade of gray or black, a stark contrast to your own. 

“You can make yourself comfortable wherever you’d like. I’ll be right back,” he says before exiting the room. You stand there awkwardly for little while before taking him up on his offer, sitting on his desk chair. It’s not long before curiosity gets the best of you. The snooping isn’t intentional, or course. You were just curious. Your eyes wandered from his cologne collection, to his jewelry, marveling at the neatness of Ni-ki’s space. 

Ni-ki’s entire room smelled faintly of him. It overwhelmed your senses, and it was turning you on. You took a deep breath, trying to regain your normality. Your eyes drifted across his room and landed on his snack cart. It was impressively stocked, chip bags, ramen, candy,—he had it all! Surely he wouldn’t mind if you took something. You grabbed a weirdly packaged rise Krispie out of the snack cart and sat at his desk. It was important to you that you at least asked for permission first, so you just put it in your lap and spin around mindlessly in his office chair until he gets back. 

The rustling of keys behind the door stops you in your tracks. With a quiet sigh, Ni-ki opens the door and enters the room, meeting your eyes. He scans your figure almost too long as he approaches you, eyes trailing from your face down to your lap and—

“…What are you doing with that?”

It takes a couple seconds for your brain to register that he’s referring to the treat you had taken from his snack cart. “Oh! Whoops I just kind of wanted to grab a snack, but wanted to eat for you to get back so I could ask. Did I do something wrong?”

“That’s—” He begins with a sigh, “Thats an edible. You can’t eat that.”

“Can I buy it off of you?” You ask with a teasing smile.

Ni-ki shushes you dramatically and takes it off your lap, his fingertips brushing your things, immediately clenching together in response. You blush and look away as he puts it back and grabs the unused chair from the corner to pull up to his desk. The fit is tight, as it was only intended for one person. When he sits down, your shoulders are touching, causing you to tense up. There was no way you were going to be able to focus on the project. 

The two of you pulled your laptops out and set them on the table. For the brainstorming, you make a shared document for you two to simultaneously type on. You clear your throat, attempting to settle the beating in your chest…and the wetness in your pants.

“Have you thought about any artists to use for the compare and contrast?”

He nods softly. “Kendrick. You?”

He shifts in his seat to look at you as he rests a hand on his face. The attention flusters you, and words struggle to leave your mouth. “I um- Andy Warhol. All of his interviews give us a lot of material to work with.” 

Ni-ki nods again and the two of you begin typing, and you begin formulating the structure of your presentation. It’s not long before a ‘low battery’ notification flashes across Ni-ki’s screen. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, “forgot to charge it last night.” His eyes flicker over to the side of the desk that you’re seated at. “S’cuse me,” he says before shifting his body weight in order to reach over you to grab his charger. His large frame presses into you, body twisting slightly as he reached for it. Squished was an understatement. The small space with the added pressure caused you to shrink under his frame, thighs squeezing deliciously in order to accommodate for his actions. The wrecked state you’ve been in all evening exemplified your sensitivity, your whole body feeling as if it was on fire. You whimper at the feeling, barely above a whisper, but because of the close proximity, Ni-ki hears it. 

Flustered, he drops the charging cord and pulls back to look back at you, brows furrowed in confusion and eyes dripping with want. You stammer out an incoherent apology, something about how you didn’t mean to and how embarrassed and sorry you were. Ni-ki said nothing, licking his lips once before interrupting you. 

“Can I kiss you?”

You close your mouth slowly in shock, before gulping and nodding. Before you know it his lips are on yours. You struggle to kiss back, nervous about it being your first time. Ni-ki pulls back ever so slightly to mumble “Relax baby, just follow my lead,” against your lips before diving in. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and he puts a hand on your chin to open up your mouth wider for him. You moan into his mouth as he licks into yours, tongue immediately going limp in a half hearted battle for dominance. Ni-ki pulls back to look at your dazed expression.

“C’mere.” He says before pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. You’re seated right on top of his growing bulge, causing you to moan as you rock your hips on him. “Ngh, Ni-ki—“ You moan out as you put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, the friction tugging on your clit just right. He places a hand on each side of your hips, stilling your movements.

Ni-ki looks at you, eyes half lidded and dark. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” He says lowly, “But I can’t, not yet.” You whine at his words. 

“Riki-Riki please.” You whimper, a quiet plea. He winces as you call him by his name. And throws his head back with an exhale. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for.”

You open your mouth to complain before he leans in to place firm kisses on your neck, and the words die on your tongue. “But I can’t just leave my bunny in heat, hm?” He asks rhetorically, unzipping your hoodie and trailing feverish kisses down your neck, occasionally leaving deep red marks in his wake. He peels your hoodie from your shoulders as his hands massage the plush expanse of your skin, almost as if he was worshipping you. Ni-ki’s hands snaked up the sides of your torso and under your soft cami, stopping when they brush over your breasts. You gasp and arch into his touch as he slides his fingers over your lacy bra. 

“Can I take this off?” Ni-ki whispered against your skin as his hands trailed to the clasps of your bra. You breathed out a yes as he painstakingly undid them, struggling slightly but refusing to let up on your neck and collarbones. 

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, admiring your flushed and dazed state, already looking fucked out despite him not being inside of you. He took your bra and tossed it down onto the ground and quickly returning to your shirt to roll your hardened nipples between his fingertips. He leaned back in his office chair to watch you writhe and moan under his touch. A lazy smirk made its way onto his face as his hands moved to the small of your back, pressing you forward in a deep kiss. Finally getting the hang of it, you melted into the kiss, humming in content. You pulled back when you needed air, accidentally rocking yourself onto him and moaning at the feeling. He lets out a breathy “shit”, lips plump and pink and bangs sticking to his forehead. 

“Y/N,” he says your name almost breathlessly, like an unrequited prayer, “Stand up, and turn around—If you want me to touch you.” 

You reluctantly inch off his lap to a standing position and turn around in front of him. In an instant, his hands are back on you, yanking harshly at the waistband of your leggings until they pooled at your feet. Then, he placed a hand on your abdomen to pull you back onto his lap, fully ridding you of your pants and hooking each of your legs around his own, leaving you spread prettily for him.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, head falling back into his neck as his hands rub your thighs, the friction sending waves of arousal rushing out of your cunt.

“Giving you what you begged for.” He responds, breath fanning over your ear as his hands inch closer to your core, making you shiver in anticipation. 

“I’ma make you feel so good,” he said lowly as a finger dipped down to tease your covered slit. He winced at the feeling of your wetness. “Fuck, you’re wet. All this for me?” He asked, to which you moaned out a weak “mhm” in response. As if that was the push he needed, Ni-ki pulled your panties to the side and began teasing your hole with one finger, prodding at the entrance while he rubbed continuous circles on your clit with another one. Your cunt made a lewd squelching sound as Ni-ki played with it, and he groaned in response. “Such a loud little thing, I’m the only one who gets to hear you like this…those pretty little sounds all for me.” You whimpered at his words, nodding helplessly as he teased you. 

“Ni-ki~” his name fell from your lips with a pleading drawl. As if reading your mind, he slowly entered one finger inside your weeping hole, relishing in the choked sob falling From your lips. Ni-ki puts an arm around your waist as he pumps his finger in and out of you. “She’s sucking me in…you a virgin?” He growls. You just nod, tears. Brimming at your eyes. Behind you, he grins lazily, a mix of arousal and pride. You yelp as he fits another finger inside of your hole, making small scissoring motions to stretch you out. You pant pathetically, tongue lolling out of your mouth as he curls his finger. “Ni-ki!” You moan out, not asking for anything in particular. He hums in response, continuing his ministrations at a steady pace. “‘M gonna cum,,” you admit pathetically as he slows his fingers, eliciting a whine from your bitten lips. You turn your head to look at him with an accusatory expression, his eyes widening as he sees your fucked out face. 

“I’ll let you cum if you tell me who you belong to.” He says lowly, dragging his fingers inside of you at a painful pace. He stares out you through lowered eyelashes, waiting for your response, waiting for you to bite back your pride and fully give into him. “You..” You mumble quietly, slightly tugging on his arm in an attempt to make him speed up. He just looks at you wait a raised eyebrow and blown out pupils.

“That’s not my name.”

You whine and try to buck your hips, but his hold is too tight. Tears streaming down your face, you finally give in. “Ni-ki—I belong to Ni-ki! I’m all yours, please—“ you hiccup. With a sadistic grin, Ni-ki speeds up his fingers, nudging them against your G spot with every thrust. 

“Good girl~” He rubs harsh circles on your clit, causing you to moan loudly and arch into him. “Not Jungwon’s. Not anyone else’s. Mine. I want you to remember who’s making you cum like this, okay?” You nod rapidly, orgasm building back up in your core. Ni-ki curls his fingers inside of your gummy walls just right, and you’re seeing stars. With a strangled moan, you come undone on his fingers, spasming and throwing your head back onto his shoulder. “Ni-ki~” You moan as he continues to fuck you through it until you’re overstimulating and inching away from his hands. 

You breathe deeply and he removes his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth. You can’t help but get a little turned on again. With a satisfied groan, Ni-ki throws his head back. “Give me a second and we’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

“What about you?” You ask earnestly.

“Me?” 

You nod, putting a hand on his clothed erection behind you. He lets out a deep moan as his eyebrows knit together and eyes screw shut. “I’m not-I can’t fuck you yet.” 

You pout in response. “Why?”

Ni-ki’s eyes open and he looks away from you, blush tinting his face. “I want to take you out first. Make you mine officially. I like you.” He says quietly. 

You giggle at his cuteness. “I like you too. That’s all the more reason for me to help you out.” You say, palming at him gently through his sweatpants, a dark gray spot of wetness appearing where you press down. Ni-ki chuckles between breathy sighs. “You really want my cock that bad, huh? That’ll shut you up? Fine then, on your knees.” You look at him with wide eyes, stunned at the vulgarity of his words. Ni-ki just smirks. 

“Come on, you can do it. Be a good girl for me like you always are.” His words go straight to your core, and you oblige. His black rug is soft beneath your knees as you kneel down in front of him and look up expectantly. 

“You’re so cute,” he observes as he strokes your cheek earnestly. Thumb swiping against your bottom lip, he prods at it for entrance. “Open.” And you do, spit pooling in your mouth as he presses the pad of his thumb on your tongue. He removes his finger from your mouth and works at the waistband of his joggers, pulling them down along with his boxers just enough for easy access. You audibly gasp at the size of him, subconsciously wondering how he was going to fit—anywhere for that matter. You look up from his leaking pink tip to his eyes. He just shrugs. “You wanted it.” You still do. 

Ni-ki puts a hand on the back of your head and guides you to the base of his cock. Your tongue darts out hungrily, testing the waters by licking a vein near the base of his shaft. He groans in response, pushing your head forward to where your lips lie plush on him. “Suck.” he commands. You follow through, licking and sucking on the expanse of his erection. You bat your eyes up at him, meeting his dark gaze. “So obedient.” He notes with a groan. He lifts your head up gently by your jaw. Putting your mouth directly in front of his angry cock head. “Open your mouth as wide as you can, hollow your cheeks and try not to use teeth,” he instructs gently. You do as your told and take him into your mouth tentatively, relishing in the way he groans and tries not to buck his hips up into your mouth. “That’s it, keep going.” He praises. You hum at his words as you sink down further onto his cock,, causing him to moan deeply. 

You bob your head up and down his length, gripping what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hands. Ni-ki mumbled a plethora of praises as his hands tangle in the back of your head, pushing you down on his length farther. His moan was deep and guttural as you choked on his cock, the feeling of your throat closing around him only pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm. You looked up at him again sitting prettily on your knees. It was a sigh to behold, Ni-ki thought, your still hard nipples poking through your thin cami, a mess still in between your thighs as you looked at him with tear stricken eyes and a mouth full of his cock.  

Ni-ki’s actions became rougher—less controlled. He thrusts into your mouth, meeting the speed of his hand on your head. You choke harder, tears streaming down your face as he fucks your throat. With a final thrust and his cock nearly completely in your mouth, he cums hard, Shooting a thick load down your throat. Ni-ki thrusts hard with every spurt of cum, your teary lashes only egging him on. “Swallow it all.” He says through gritted teeth. And of course, you listen—or at least try to. Ni-ki pulls out of your mouth, dick still twitching, and admires the way your mouth still hangs open, spit and cum dribbling down your chin just as his favorite taiyaki ice cream once did. He grins at the thought. 

You close your mouth and swallow hard, panting as you catch your breath.

“You spent now?” Ni-ki asks. Shaking your head no, you gasp before shaking your head. “I still want you,,” you rasp.

Shocked by your words, Ni-ki’s mouth falls into an “o” shape as he scans your features for any sign of it being a joke. Niki’s cock hardens as he realizes that you’re dead serious. He just sighs softly. 

“How am I supposed to say no to you when you’re begging so prettily? I can’t say no to you,” he mutters as he helps you up and leads you to his bed before reaching into his nightstand for an unopened box of condoms. He starts to open one, when you grab his wrist. He looks at you with a questioning look on his face. “I’m uh-im on the pill. I get bad periods so you know…” you mumble abashedly. He just nods, a smirk creeping onto his face as he throws the packaging somewhere in the room.

When you sit down, you lean back onto his pillows almost instinctively which makes him chuckle. Ni-ki slowly presses his plump lips to your face, peppering kisses all over as if marking you. He places a firm kiss to your lips before trailing down to your neck. 

“You should be stretched out well enough now, right?” He asks as a hand sneaks in between your thighs to run his fingers through your soaked folds, already impossibly wet. You shudder at his touch, bucking your hips up towards his fingers. Much to your disappointment, Ni-ki’s hands leave your core to travel down your leg, hooking it behind your knee and pushing upwards until your thigh is flush against your chest. Ni-ki aligns himself with your entrance, looking into your eyes. You look up at him, eyes full of nervous anticipation as he begins to speak.

“This might hurt a little. I wont move until you tell me it’s okay.” 

You nod as he slides himself inside of you slowly, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of your soft walls clamping down on him, almost as if you were trying to force him out. You gripped onto Nikis biceps as you winced at the uncomfortable  stretch. Ni-ki bottomed out with a growl and looked into your teary eyes, his own laced with something far more primal and hungry. You breathed rapidly, adjusting to his size as the pain bordered on the line of extreme pleasure as his tip nestled against your g-spot. 

With a final deep breath after what seemed like forever of Ni-ki staying still, you ask him to move. And he does, slowly at  first. Deep, slow thrusts as if he’s anchoring you to his bed, making sure you can’t escape—marking you as his. You let out a strangled moan with every thrust, gripping his lean biceps to ground yourself. “You, can-You can go faster” You say shakily, looking up at him with one eye screwed shut. In that moment, there was nothing he could hear that would make him happier.  Ni-ki leans forward.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He whispers, hot breath fanning over your ear before speeding up his thrusts. It was everything you could want and more, your hands flying from his arms to his back to try and get a better hold on him. Your mind goes blank as he abuses your g spot, hitting it roughly over and over again, like an animal in heat. Your mind goes blank, the only words you’re able to form being variations of ‘please’ or Ni-ki’s name, undoubtedly stroking his ego. 

You feel your orgasm building in your lower stomach and begging grasping erratically on Ni-ki’s black beater. His pace never slows, and if anything it keeps getting faster with each passing second. You look up at Ni-ki pleadingly, only to discover that his face mirrors yours, flushed, sweating, mouth hanging open as he ruts into you, using your walls as his own personal fleshlight. You shakily breathe out, desperation laced in your voice.  “Fuck-I’m gonna cum! Ni-ki-“ You chant his name as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

“You did so well for me, Y/N. Go ahead, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” Ni-ki’s words push you over the edge, your release crashing over you like waves as you soak his length. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm, hips stuttering as he nears his own. You whine at the overstimulation as Ni-ki continues pounding into you, choruses of ‘I know baby’ and ‘You can take it’ fill the room. With a final thrust he paints your walls white. Ni-ki groans as he fucks his seed deeper into your already full pussy. He looks down to where the two of you connect, barely suppressing a moan as he sees the base of his cock turn white as his release drips out of you. 

Still inside of you, Ni-ki collapses forward onto you, snuggling into your warmth. Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you as you rub circles on his back. 

“I should clean you up.” He says, sighing as he gets up and grabs some tissues from nearby. He’s so gentle with you, you can’t help but tear up. After returning by your side—a little more well dressed this time—Ni-ki notices your quivering lip, and rushes over to cup your face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Ni-ki coos, his usual nonchalant and aloof demeanor replaced with something far more tender. 

“I really like you,” You sniffle. Ni-ki visibly relaxes, pulling you into a hug. 

“I really like you too. My lil bunny.”

——

Some time later, you reach out of the tangle of Ni-ki’s arms and shoot a text to Lara. 

‘Forgot to use protection sorry lol ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)’

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AN: GUYS IK I HAVENT POSTED IN A MONTH DONT JUMP ME!