Bestie!kook Reader

It is so sad to see a lot of writers experiencing burn out at the moment.

We create and create and create trying to keep up with our own demands or pressure from readers but no one can leave comments or reblogs. Smdh.

This site is gonna die without engagement yall. Comments and reblogs are air beneath a writers wing. They cant fly on cold, dead air.

Don't matter if the fic is "old", or hasn't been updated, or already has 50 comments, or you feel silly, leave one. Reblog. How did you find the post in the first place? Someone you know reblogged it.

Leave comments. "Enjoyed this, this was great, omg my chest, *long analysis*, whatever. Fandom is a community and it thrives on sharing ideas. Instead of taking your thoughts to the group chat, comment under the fic! Have discussions under the fic! Stop excluding the author from being able to engage in this labor or love they produced.

when i tell you rafe can slut me out however he pleases.

we fucking upside down, horizontal, vertical, diagonal, in AND on his truck, every square inch of taney hill, in every bed, on every surface. he can hit it from the front, back, sideways, in between, on top, bottom, in every hole and every position humanly possible. he can use me as his personal cum and spit dumpster for whenever he want fr. i would cherish every single mf touch from that man even if it’s as little as our arms brushing. idc if he dont let me cum as long as his ends up in or on me. he can use me as his personal stepping stool or coffee table. he can use me as his foot rest while he’s sitting i stg. he can use me as his cum rag AND sock. I will volunteer as tribute to be his fleshlight 🧍‍♀️i would ride that man til my knees dislocate. i would deepthroat that man til i pass out. i would let him step on me. he can step on my face and smoosh it into the ground. he can step on my pussy wearing his finest dress shoes. he can hit me with his truck (as long as i live ofc) i would lick the bottom of his shoe if that meant he would fuck me. he can spank my ass raw til i cant sit down and it’s discolored. he can do coke off of any part of my body. he can choke me til my neck is bruised black and purple. i would crawl across legos to get dicked down by him. i would chug his bathwater in record time. i would devour every droplet of cum on his sheets after he jerks off. if there aint a restroom nearby ig its time for a (golden) shower 🤷‍♀️ you would have to get an entire swat team with a tank to remove me from him and that still might not work. i would commit a war crime to get a taste of him. i would literally eat this mans ass if he wanted me to. he can take every single ounce of anger out on me through sex. i would do splits on it. i would do simone biles levels gymnastics on his d. the way i would ride him would put professional bull riders to shame. he can smack me with his used condom and id be grateful. i would actually take that same condom and lap up every bit of his cum inside of it. i would beg him to smack me across the face with his d. we doing it on his dirt bike if he want. he can BRAND ME if he wants. i would let that man burn my arm with his gas tank right after riding his bike just so i have the memory of him touching me. i would’ve picked him up the minute he was released from jail. i would break laws of science and take form just to be the wall he punched. if he wants a dog shii i can bark. if he want a cat i can meow too. i would inhale the scent on each of his clothes so hard every atom of cologne would be gone. i would astral project into pope’s body so i can experience rafe beating me with a golf club. i would kneel and beg him for a simple conversation. i would find out his favorite artists and learn their entire discography and every lyric of every song. i would become the face of his favorite beer brand. i would live and breathe HIM. I would permanently bind our souls together just cause

anyways thanks for coming to my lil rant :3

this was all simply because i read @rafeandonlyrafe recent fic called watermelon :p

If you [ b l a c k ] reblog this.

don’t care what shade just reblog.

i’m feening for some hurt/comfort so perhaps let’s start off with some, comforting flo after that devastating lost to atalanta :( & thus ending their unbeaten streak

love that ur doing this by the way, & will def be showing my gratitude through reblogs, comments, likes bc ik how hard writers work<3

“so ‘nh scheiß, ey.” florian walks inside the living room, throwing his bag against the couch as his frustration grew by the minute.

you quietly follow him inside, gently closing the door behind you as you take off your shoes.

the air around you feels heavy, each step as if your legs would break off if you don’t sit down somewhere, even though you were not the one running around a football field for almost two hours.

your heart beats fast against your chest, so loud that you can feel it in your ears. having to witness all of this so closely just does something to you. it tests you in a way that you have never seen before.

your concerns are interrupted by your boyfriends loud groan echoing from the bathroom. without thinking too much, your legs already move towards him, his pain stabbing your heart. it didn’t matter what you would say to him, deep down he would still blame himself and his performance today, even though he gave it his all.

your eyes meet through the bathroom mirror, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, even if he is desperately trying to hold back his angry tears. his gaze moves towards his hands that he placed on the edge of the sink, his veins prominent than ever as the ruh of all the emotions have yet to fade away.

the thickness of the situation stays put, and you feel helpless as you do not know how to approach all of this. it usually as if this season made you forget about all those days where you spent hour to comfort him from all the loses from last season, all your tricks that you had to make the man of your life smile again.

“schatz…” your voice is soft as you approach him, eyes now focused on the back if his head, moving down his long neck to his broad shoulders and back. your hands gently touch his waist, rubbing it before circling his torso with your arms. your cheek is pressed against his muscular back and you sigh as you feel him exhale deeply.

“it was so unnecessary, like, i know that we could’ve done better than that..” he speaks up for the first time in a while, his voice raspy and rather shaky.

you feel his warm hand resting against your that is on his stomach, his grip on it firm. you press a small kiss against his shoulder blade, lifting one hand to massage the hair from behind.

“that’s what comes with the game, schatz. you knew it would happen.”

“but not during the final, fuck.” he shakes his head in disbelief, scoffing as he replays all the wrongs he did during the game.

your heart breaks a little more as you watch him blame himself for the loss, the feeling of helplessness taking place inside.

“you have one trophy left, though, no?” you try to remind him, watching him carefully as he turns around to face you.

florian leans against the bathroom counter, jaw clenched as his eyes stay focused on your hands holding his. he nods, a new kind of determination burning through his veins.

“yeah, we’ll show them that this won’t set us back.”

you feel him squeeze your hands two times, ‘thank you’ in your guys’ own way.

you warmly smile up at him, relieved that he somehow managed to deal with the loss in a mature and healthy way.

“you know, it’s okay to cry, yeah?” you remind him, chuckling as you see him roll his eyes.

“ja ja, i’ll cry if i need to and i’ll come to you if i ever need a hug.” he smiles back, thankful for your presence during this moment.

and florian knew that he met a one of a kind person with you, someone to lift his spirits and remind him if his hard work whenever he doubts himself.

you, his safe haven, his home and just his forever person.

————————————————————

i need sleep.

House of Memories (Spencer's Version)

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! FBI! Reader

A look at your life with Spencer through the eyes of his team mates

Warnings: none really, just fluff, the team being observant, adult objects (condoms, alcohol, etc.,), not a warning but a note: reader isn't in the BAU but she works in the FBI, through Emily's POV

“I wasn’t expecting an invite from you, Reid. Thanks for having me over.” The front door to the apartment opened. Emily was holding a bottle of cheap wine that she grabbed from the liquor store down the street when she realized she forgot to bring a house gift. It was a close call too, she was literally driving past it when she realized and had to make a very hasty u-turn. 

“It’s no problem, thank you for coming! Derek, Garcia and Hotch are in the living room, Rossi’s in the bathroom and JJ’s coming late. Her loss though, I think she’d really enjoy Interstellar and if she comes late I know she’s going to complain. Come in, just take your shoes off if you don’t mind.” Emily nodded, after Spencer gave her a light side hug and accepted the bottle from her. 

He wore a white tee-shirt, pajama bottoms, and smelt fresh. His hair was damp as well, like he’d showered a few hours ago but his hair is so thick that it takes a minute for it to dry. She noticed his light shrug, as if it wasn’t his preference but he would take it anyways. 

Ghosting through the threshold, she bent down and slipped off her boots. She heard light chatter, music, smelt a vanilla and sea salt (it was a rough guess) candle burning, and heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen. 

She couldn’t help it, her analytical mind working before she could stop it. Sometimes she would find herself profiling strangers even when it was rude. And profiling your coworker who invited you into his home was very rude. 

Spencer’s shoes were thrown on the floor, one knocked on its side but still close together. As if it was an attempt on his end to be some sort of neat. Pairs of heels, pumps, boots were lined on the shoe rack but after doing a quick count, she noticed something. There were far more womens shoes than there were mens shoes. About six pairs of men's shoes to a 10 women’s shoe ratio.

Aaron, David, Derek make three, and the other three were clearly Spencer’s. Pen’s shoes obviously were one of those female shoes. The bright purple heels sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the browns, blacks, and deep reds of the female shoes. 

‘Enough Emily, stop being rude.’ 

“Your house is beautiful Spencer.” She couldn’t help but look around in slight awe. She wasn’t expecting Spencer’s house to be so…neat? No, that sounds mean. Neat in a way that didn’t seem like it was all Spencer. Sure Spencer’s little unique touches were sprinkled about the apartment and she was still standing at the doorway.

There were pictures of nature hanging on the wall, of a young black woman standing in front of a large pond far from the camera. She wore a pink baseball cap and had her hands flung out as if to emphasize how big the pond was. Who was that? A secret lover? She looked familiar, like a face Emily had seen in passing.

“Oh thanks. I just moved in a few months ago so not everything is fully set up.” Spencer called from the kitchen, and there were three clicks from the stove. Then he slid out, wiping his hands on a towel. As she walked through the house, she noticed more.

Potted plants with lush green leaves, knitted plant holders hanging from the ceiling, a red and dark blue patterned rug on the floor in the hall. From where she stood, she could see there was a small dining area. A nice wooden table, with papers and files scattered all over. 

She found her way to the living room and saw her coworkers engaged in whispers on the couch. More papers and files were on the small tables on either side of the couch, a contrast to the neatness of the rest of the house.

“Hey everybody, what’s up?” Emily asked. Heads snapped towards her, and she noticed Penelope’s eyes curved up in a mischievous grin. 

“Hi! Come sit, come sit.” Penelope motioned next to her, Derek and Rossi sliding over to make room for her. 

“Did you make it in okay?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded while she slipped onto the brown leather sofa. A dark purple hand knitted black was thrown over the back of it. Did Spencer take up knitting or was this just a nice purchase? 

Spencer plopped down into the brown leather armchair and rested his feet on the pouf in front of him. Emily noticed how spotless the glass coffee table in front of them was. 

The whole house was ridiculously clean. The wooden floors sparkled, the carpets meticulously vacuumed, the TV sparkled and the speakers next to the TV were flawlessly dusted. The large oak bookshelf that was up against the wall that was closest to the kitchen was also dusted and the books neatly organized. 

When would Spencer have time to clean his house so thoroughly? They were on a mission all of last week, got back two nights ago and have been at work since then. Sure, it’s Spencer he could just be very clean but the way things sparkled, it was clear they were cleaned merely a few hours ago. 

When they did go home it was late at night and they were back at work early the next day. Did he spend his whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing his floors, and preparing to cook for them? Spencer wasn’t the type to have a housekeeper, especially when he does his work all over and you can’t exactly leave FBI documents in the eye of the eye of a random house keeper.

“Sorry about the paperwork, I still have to set up my study. I have to put up my desk and everything.” Everyone voiced a consolation, some variation of ‘I don’t mind’ or ‘you should see my place’.

“Not the handyman?” Derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. Spencer’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“I like keeping myself out of the hospital. Did you know every 45 minutes a piece of furniture falls on someone, and 25,000 people a year are treated at the hospital for a furniture related incident?” Spencer rattled off, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers.

Before anyone else could say anything, the doorbell rang. Spencer glanced back at the door, before he sprung to his feet with enthusiasm like he was expecting  Emily and Penelope exchanged looks, giggling while Rossi lightly rolled his eyes.

“Of course he knows that. Also, did any of you know that Spencer moved to a new place?” Derek asked.

“Well I knew. I know where all of you live. But it was very considerate of him to invite us over.” Hotch nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of water. Not Spencer’s usual brand but she did notice a switch some time ago. From Purelife to Poland Spring.

“Did you see the coat? Hanging by the door rack?” Penelope whispered, motioning for everyone to come in closer. There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes, her brain working overtime.

“What, you think he has some… extra company? A secret lover?” Rossi chuckled. Of course she noticed, but she just thought it was Penelope’s. 

“Maybe! Do you think?” Penelope asked excitedly, her hands flapping around with enthusiasm. Oh Penelope, ever the romantic. Derek giggled next to Penelope. He was lightly smacked by Penelope as a rebuttal and he giggled as if the slaps tickled him and they heard Spencer’s reapproaching foot steps along with an extra pair of heels. 

They all turned, eager to see who it was. Would it be the woman in the photo? His mom? Someone else?

“JJ!” Emily exclaimed when the final member of their team came in. She twisted around in her seat, happy to see her friend. JJ wasn’t able to make it on their last assignment so it had been a minute since they’d seen her. For people who practically live together, spending almost every moment together while at work was normal. They’d all fallen into a natural balance of being around each other. Of course they’d missed JJ while she was out sick.

“Hi!” She held her arms open for hugs, while the entire team voiced their hellos.

“Sorry I’m late, the grocery store was ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe what I saw, some lady's ex boyfriend came there and she called the cops on him like right there in the store. Apparently, he gave her something on purpose. She got on the speaker and called him ‘Dirty Dick David’. And then they fired her for playing with the mic that way!” She told her story while passing out hugs and then plopped down in the opposite arm chair across from the one Spencer was sitting in before.

“What?” Spencer laughed while he sat back down. 

“Right there it happened.” The whole team was laughing and Emily remembered that this was why she got along with her team so well. The easy laughter was so simple and refreshing.

“Woah, right there is insane! I guess she was sick of him.” Emily leaned slightly into Penny, allowing herself more comfort

“Imagine being at work and your ex who purposely infected you with something shows up to both you? I’d be pissed too.” Derek chuckled.

“I’ve been through three wives and never got a reaction like that, Dirty Dick David certainly had it coming.” Rossi added before they all laughed even harder.

Then there was a loud ringing noise. Spencer’s phone was going off and he patted himself down, lifting himself up checking to see if he was sitting on it. Then he got up, his face making a tiny expression like he could finally recall.

“I’ll be right back guys.” He ran into the kitchen and Penelope pulled everyone into a huddle.

“Okay, here’s what you missed JJ, you ready?”

“I’m ready?” She asked with an arch eyebrow and a nervous smile.

“There’s a bunch of lady stuff around here, like a coat and I don’t know if you saw the shoes but there are a lot of lady shoes. Rossi was in the bathroom and saw a bunch of lady stuff too, like a special face cleanser but he didn’t wanna snoop. I think he should’ve gone for it but whatever. Also I don’t know if you know but I know that Spencer doesn’t cook. 

His house is also really clean like really really clean like it was just clean but when would he have gotten the time to clean it? I mean we got off work like three hours ago. Running theories? Spencer has a housekeeper, a secret girlfriend, or his moms visiting. Got it? Okay, got it.” 

JJ blinked after Garcia’s rapid rundown, Derek nodding like he was able to keep up with that and Hotch all around looked displeased.

“We are guests in Spencer’s home, don’t go looking through his stuff. Maybe Spencer likes that stuff, that’s not any of our concern.” He frowned with a crease in his eyebrows. 

“Yeah Garcia, besides if Spence did get a girlfriend then I think that’s great for him.” JJ chuckled and Derek rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m back! I picked up the shrimp and some wine. I also got some beers if you want any. The coolers are for me, you can have one but don’t take any of the pink ones. I like those ones.”  A familiar voice sounded through the house.

The sound of socks hitting the floor padded through the house and a young woman walked in. The woman from the photo more specifically. Her hair was in long braids that curled around her waist. She was gorgeous, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chilly winter air. More specifically she was familiar. 

More specifically she was from a different team. More specifically a member of the HRT. The Hostage Rescue Unit. They’ve seen Spencer speaking with her a lot. They’ve teased him for their closeness multiple times, and knew they were a bit closer. But Emily didn’t know they were such close friends. For her to just walk into his home this way.

No offense to Spencer but when Emily said she was hot, she meant she was hot. Like she just stepped out of a magazine. And she never thought Spencer would have it in him to pull. Spencer was certainly nothing to sneeze at but my god was this woman attractive.

She was making her way through the house, to the kitchen lightly waddling. She held a bag of groceries and as if she could feel all the eyes on her she turned. 

“Oh hi! I’m sorry, I ran out to the grocery store. I didn’t realize we ran out of shrimp but the food will be done soon.” She beamed at them and put one of her hands on her hips. And Emily did as profilers do. She profiled even if she didn’t truly mean too. She was wearing pajama pants, and a puffy coat that was zipped open to reveal a white tank top. Above all she radiated joy, confidence and comfort.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hotch cleared his throat, and she nodded at the members of the BAU.

“You got the shrimp?” Spencer called, coming out of the kitchen, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. He came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instinctively angled her head to his and pushed herself up onto her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Penelope was on the verge of exploding, her mouth open in a wide grin. She let out an excited squeal. The two agents jumped upon hearing the high pitched noise and everyone on the couch turned to face her.

“What?! Oh my god, when were you gonna tell us?!” Penelope asked, bounding up from the couch. Spencer looked confused above all as Penelope raced towards him and his apparent girlfriend.

“I didn’t think I had to, we weren’t exactly shy about it.” Spencer laughed as he looked at Penelope basically bouncing up and down in front of him. She giggled and Penelope paused.

“Dude we thought you were just friends?” Derek questioned from the couch. Spencer shook his head, looking more and more shocked by the second.

“So how long has this been going on?” Emily asked with a laugh. She had to laugh! How could she not be happy for Spencer? He looked so happy, he literally hadn’t stopped smiling since she came into the door and they kissed.

“Like a year? I mean, I know we jumped the gun with moving, but my lease was up and I decided that this would work and I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to work. We decided to go for it.” Spencer added, scratching the back of his neck.

“You guys really had no idea? I mean I tell you guys that we go out every weekend, I have a picture of her on my desk. We literally come to work together everyday.” Spencer exclaimed, motioning around with his hands.

“I don't see you that often at work, they probably don’t really notice those things.” She rationalized to him and rubbed a hand over his chest. He never moved his hand from around her waist. 

It all made sense. The candles littered around the house, the small basket of yarn and needles on the floor next to one of the arm chairs. The food even smelt too seasoned to be like anything Spencer could cook, the photos that Emily was just now realizing were taken of Spencer. The romance novel that Emily saw sitting on the glass coffee table. How spotless the entire house was. The shoes, the coat, Emily was just mad at herself for not recognizing the photo.

“Well. Way to go Reid, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked at Derek’s remark and stood on her toes again. She whispered something in Spencer’s ear and he cackled with his mouth open in shock. 

He was turning a bashful shade of red and his voice squeaked as he sent her away. 

“I’ll be finished with your food soon, you guys.” Trailing into the kitchen, Spencer glanced over as if to check if she needed anything.

“Oh gosh, you didn’t have to cook for us! Thank you so much!” Emily exclaimed, realizing that she was just sitting there like a fish with her mouth wide open. 

“Let her cook, why not enjoy dinner and a movie?” Rossi joked. It seemed like the shock had dissipated and JJ giggled, her blonde hair shining like the Sun and Emily noted how her entire face lit up like a star.

“Honey, can you come help me with these groceries?” Spencer nodded, following her into the kitchen. They watched, waiting to watch them fully go into the kitchen. Then like little girls at a sleepover, they leaned back into their huddle. 

“Wow!”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Hotch tried to keep the peace before his team of impatient agents ran rampant. Emily herself felt like she needed answers and she needed them now. 

“Did you see the way he looked at her? They’re so cute, I had a feeling when he came to work that one time smelling like perfume and wearing the same clothes but they were like all up on each other.” Penelope whispered excitedly. 

“I always knew opposites attract. You know they make a handsome couple too.” The excitement died down for a second and everyone had to look at Rossi. Who even used that phrasing anymore?

“You’re so old, Rossi.” JJ giggled and Hotch shook his head. Rossi smiled playfully, the way he always did when they made fun of him for being ancient.

“What do they even talk about? I mean sure they have stuff in common but for a whole year? I wasn’t expecting that!” Emily exclaimed.

“Reid’s never short on things to talk about.” Derek teased and Penelope swatted him again.

“I mean I noticed he’d been a bit happier but I wasn’t expecting this! I guess you just never know.” JJ added in, glancing over to the kitchen to make sure the two weren’t standing right there. 

“We can find out what they talk about.” No one wanted to admit it but they wanted to snoop so bad. So bad that when Penelope suggested it the best thing to do was to stop talking and be extra quiet so they could hear. Even Hotch, slowly reclined.

Over the clatter of pans, the soft clinking of bottles and things being put away, and dishes being taken out they heard her voice. 

“Emily brought us some wine. Pink.” Spencer’s voice broke through and Emily tensed up. Oh god, what if they hated the wine? 

“Oh my favorite. I’ve always liked that Emily. If it wasn’t for you, I’d go for her.” She laughed and plopped something into what sounded like a liquid. 

Derek made some funny eyebrows at Emily and Emily felt her cheeks heat up. JJ and Penelope both grabbed each other to stifle a laugh. As bad as it was to listen to your teammate and his girlfriend's conversation, they couldn’t stop.

“Aw babe don’t pout.” Then a kissing noise.

“There’s that smile. Also I picked up some condoms, we were down to six and you know we go through those like crazy. Speaking of which, I was thinking, do we really need those? I mean I’m on the pill and at the rate we go we’d save more money just not having sex. To be honest we spend a bit too much money on that stuff anyways and I don’t want to replace another bed frame. I like this one and we literally just got it. That or we just need to stop having sex so often. The call is totally yours but that bitch who works at the front cashier keeps looking at me funny everytime she sees me walk up.” It took a moment for everyone to process what she was talking about. It really took a moment. An identical frown spread over both Rossi and Hotch, and Derek had to put his fist in his mouth to avoid cackling. 

Oh god, this was an awful idea. Now there was just awkward silence. None of them could say anything even if they wanted to.

“So my options are death, death or going raw?” Spencer whined immediately.  Emily focused her eyes on something else instantly, the patterned carpet on the floor, the TV that was showing different scenery as it was in rest mode.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic! You’re not going to die if we don’t have sexy every day.” The sound of a spoon clattering down and then she broke out into a fit of giggles.

“But how do you know!” He whined again.

“Like I said, it's your choice. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just sick of always having to go to the store. And you’re squeezing my ribs.”

“I like your idea. Besides, we have abortion money.” She gasped softly and then broke into light laughter. JJ’s jaw dropped open and Derek snorted before he covered his nose. Of everything that was expected it wasn’t that.

“That’s awful, baby.” She scolded and Emily got a mental image of the two. Was she standing in front of the stove, the smell of food wafting through the house, Spencer standing behind her with arms wrapped firmly around her? If Emily wasn’t so uncomfortable right now her mouth would be watering. It would also warm her heart to hear how happy her friend was.

“I’m sorry.” He joined in on the laughter.

“Oh my god we’re being awful host! Plate up the soup and I’ll pour the wine.”

Once the two came back out, it was hard to even look at Spencer knowing that he had apparently helped break a bed frame. Even if he was holding trays of the most mouth watering gumbo.

“Who wants to watch Interstellar?”

lando/mclaren are refusing to admit they have a rocket ship bc they don’t believe that can pull this off and they don’t wanna look shit

max often admitted the car was a beast bc both him and the team never once doubted him. they knew he was going to win.

the switch up from lando saying max and lewis had the fastest cars so should win to "why does everyone talk about the car? too many questions in the media are about just the car” is outrageous. of course they are gonna ask about the car, it’s a motorsport. you aren’t out there running on foot.

mclaren are doubting themselves and i am sick n tired of the ‘underdog’ narrative.

that car is FAST and possibly illegal but that’s a separate issue. accept it, admit it, credit your team for what an great job they’ve done building that car.

Me whenever I see Florian Wirtz and Jamal Musiala:

⋆ ★ you and rafe having a argument midfuck...

18+ smut (pinv), squirting, cursing, angst, spit kink, high-key toxic relationship, (accused) cheating, Toxic!Manipulative! Rafe, mentions of ocs

a/n: putting this fic out until I'm done writing part two of how I slept with your father. Also thanks for all the love and support 💕

You'd been lying on your side; your leg rested on the curve of Rafe's shoulder. Your hand, the one that wasn't periodically stimulating your clit, had been clenched in a fist with your head resting on top of it. 

Your body moved with each hard thrust of Rafe's thick cock, and though the pleasure of Rafe's length never failed to make you feel good, you stayed there emotionless, staring bitterly into the cerulean color of Rafe's eyes.  

You couldn't help but wonder how you had arrived at this point, where physical pleasure no longer carried any emotional weight. The once-intense connection between you and Rafe had momentarily faded, leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake.

Rafe had been staring at your glistening slit and your little hole, outstretched and turning red from the never-ending penetration of his cock. 

He figured something was wrong with you because you hadn't moaned, not even when he let a glob of his spit plop down onto your pussy and fucked it inside of you; you usually liked when he did stuff like that. 

And though Rafe could have asked if there was something he'd done wrong (which he was sure he did), he didn't risk it; after all, you'd let him fuck you to sleep, so you couldn't be that mad at him. 

"Switch." he told you, moving your leg from his shoulder and resting both your legs on his sides, where he slotted his body between you and started fucking you in missionary. 

"Do you think Courtney fucks good?" You asked.

Rafe stilled inside you momentarily, taking a moment to match a face to the name "Courtney".

He slowly begins moving inside your warmth, the sound of bodies connecting going "plap...plap...plap".

"Who's Courtney?"

You leaned up to where you rested on your elbows, now your nose, and eyes leveled with Rafe's. 

"Y'know, that red-head chick who bartends at the country club." You said. 

Rafe had told you 'no,' that he didn't know any red-headed girl named Courtney who bartended at the country club, but deep down, he knew exactly who you'd been talking about. Everyone at the country club knew of Courtney--particularly the guys, having given her the nickname "cherry" for her loud red hair and double d size tits. 

"The girl you always give good tips to and always joke with, that's Courtney, that should jog your memory." You said.

Rafe had a feeling you wouldn't let this go, so just as he adjusted himself on his knees, and pulled both of your calfs on his shoulders, He pretends to realize, saying "Ah, that's Courtney."

"Yeah, her." you say.

The both of you stayed silent for a moment, Rafe's cock still plunging deep inside of you. There had been a moment when you'd felt the tip of his cock kiss your g-spot, causing you to roll your eyes to the back of your head and clinch hard around his length.

"Fuckk." he drags, kissing your temples, and squeezing your left breast.

"So, do you think she fucks good?" You ask again.

"Who?" Rafe plays dumb.

"Courtney, who else?"

"How should I know?" Rafe grumbled, agitation wrangling over his face, and as a consequence, his grip on your hips tightened, and he started fucking into you faster, and just for the sake of your comfort, you retracted your legs back to your sides.

You looked down to where you and Rafe connected; it had been a gaudy mess of spit, sweat, and arousal--the result of trying to get yourselves off for hours. 

As Rafe pounded into you, you found it suddenly hard to keep your composer. It was challenging to hold yourself up on your elbows and even more difficult to form a coherent sentence that didn't involve long pauses, quiet moans, and panted 'fucks.' 

But you had to confront Rafe about Courtney. Now would be the only good time, and he couldn't walk away or turn this into a big screaming match. 

He had the serenity of your pussy to keep him calm and rooted. 

So you pushed through the immense feeling of pleasure. 

"Why'd you ask me about Courtney?" 

Rafe may have been cruising on uncharted territory, but he just had to know what you have heard about him recently. 

"Well, you know how every fucking kook goes to the country club?" You asked, and Rafe hadn't said anything. "And you know how all of our friends are kooks and you know how people talk?" Rafe kept fucking into you. 

"I heard while I was away in Venice for my father's birthday, you were seen with Courtney." 

"No shit." Rafe said. "She's the bartender at the Country club, and I go to the bar a lot, y/n." 

And as if it was possible, Rafe brought your ass and pussy closer to him, his cock nudging that spongey spot inside of you repeatedly. 

And though you wanted to drag this moment for as long as possible, you also wanted that knot in your belly to finally snap. 

"Outside of the bar at the Country Club, Ray--Can you rub my clit?" 

Your breath hitched at the rough flesh of Rafe's thumb, circling your little bud. 

"At one of your parties, to be exact." You panted. "Everyone said the whole night you looked like you wanted to fuck her, so that's why I asked; I wanted to know if you think she would fuck better than me; if so, you can fuck her and not me.” you scold.

As time went on, it felt like the amount of pressure Rafe applied to your clit increased, and the feeling of his cock slotting in and out of your cunt seemed to be never-ending, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

"Shit." He cursed; you assumed he was close to his peak as well. "And who the hell is everyone?" He said over the sound of flesh slapping into flesh. 

"My friends." You mewled. 

"Those jealous bitches? Trina--isn't she one of your friends? She was practically on my dick all night, but because your friends said I was talking to another girl that's not you, I'm the bad guy? Fuck that." he spat, his thrust getting deeper and deeper--more sloppier. 

"Rafe, I'm--I'm." you moaned. 

"Shut up, I'm talking now. I'm getting sick of your shit, Y/n. Just because of your insecurities, I can't live my life. How am I going to be in a relationship with someone that constantly accuses me of cheating?" 

Just then, as Rafe's hips hitched from him spilling inside of you (unbeknownst to you), you came undone. You'd been a squirter, so you squeezed your eyes tight as your cunt gushed uncontrollably around Rafe's cock. 

Some of your arousal soaked Rafe's pelvis, the sheets of your shared bed, and even some splashed onto your stomach. 

Rafe had gotten to you. 

As he got up and put his disregarded clothes back on, you sat on your knees on the edge of the bed, watching him. 

"I'm sorry, Rafe. Don't be mad at me. I should have thought things through." you cried. 

"You're always saying that shit." He spat, putting his shoes on. 

You brought your palms to your teary eyes as Rafe hovered over you. 

"I expect my bedsheets to be replaced by the time I get back." He said. 

"Where are you going?" you asked him.

"Don't you have a tracker on my car or some shit? You'll find out." He scoffed, and with that being said, he left. 

Truth be told, you hadn't put a tracker on Rafe's car—nor his phone, which he was grateful for because if he had a tracker on him, he wouldn't be picking up Courtney from her shift at the country club, where they would fuck in his car for about an hour, pick up something to eat, probably fuck again, and then he'd drop her off on the south side of the outer banks.

And to be even more truthful, Rafe would feel like him fucking Courtney wouldn't entirely be his fault; after all, he'd gotten the idea from you. 

In my ferrari horse girl era

I still cannot get over the fact that Oscar kept going. Like this man. he was fully stuck in the grass after his team had prevented him from going for the win before with fucking papaya rules, and yet he grit his teeth reversed out and actually scored two points. I cannot imagine what he was feeling that moment in the grass. they had literally marked him as out of the grand prix and he said actually no, fuck that. he is my driver of the day cause he should've won that.