GOOD GIRL. (NSFW) - Taylor Swift

but she makes me weak (2)

cw: g!p taylor, (maybe dubious consent?? it's entirely voluntary but reader is mad and taylor doesn't explicitly say yes), unprotected sex

8k words oooops

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you were initially overjoyed when the end of the north american leg came, and taylor announced the entire crew could have a week's paid leave. you needed to somehow finance yourself as a completely independent twenty-year-old with no formal education. getting paid while on a no-expenses vacation seemed like a dream to you; especially with being able to spend time with taylor for an entire week.

now, every second went by excruciatingly slow.

stupidly, you'd fallen for taylor. how could you not? she was sweet, caring, even in bed. at least, that's what you thought.

you glared holes into the side of her head as you hung out in the private lounge with the rest of the crew, all of them laughing and drinking except for you. taylor's girlfriend, betty, sat close to her, a leg partially hooked onto taylor's lap. your jaw twitched in anger. those were the same jeans as last night—the ones she'd fucked you in. she didn't even bother to change clothes, which only told you that she had left the room in a hurry, probably trying to hide you from her girlfriend.

your knee jolted up and knocked into the underside of the coffee table, drawing taylor's guilty eyes towards you for the first time since she called you kid earlier. no one else noticed something was off. especially not betty.

"i love these jeans on you, baby," betty said, putting her hand on taylor's thigh and looking up at her. taylor tore her eyes from you and smiled at her girlfriend, kissing her forehead.

"of course you do. you only like the clothes you buy for me."

taylor had said it amusedly, some kind of fondness behind her blue eyes and sweet voice. betty replied with something but you didn't catch it, your ears ringing and your vision clouding in pain and anger. you stood up abruptly, making everyone glance at you except for taylor, who stared at the denim in her lap.

you were going to just leave, but some kind of unbearable anger took over you. it was only a pair of jeans, but the notion of it; that taylor had done those things to you in the jeans that her girlfriend bought for her. you felt disgusted with her, all at once, and instead of leaving, your legs took you to stand above taylor and dump your coke can on top of her head, down her shirt and on those stupid fucking jeans.

"what the fuck," taylor breathed, her shoulders tensing at the coldness. the entire group gasped, jaws falling open, eyes flitting from you to taylor.

"fuck you," you spat, crushing the can in your hand and tossing it at her chest. you turned around before you could even see the crushed can falling down onto her lap, not giving her a moment to respond as you walked angrily away from the lounge.

you made your way through the lobby and to the elevator, drawing glances from the janitor when you entered and started frantically clicking on the button to your floor. he not-so-subtly distanced himself from you when you sniffled, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes to avoid breaking down right there.

as soon as you got to your room, you broke into tears against the door, dropping down to the floor and hugging your knees. sobs wracked your body, so fragile then that you could have shattered into pieces on the hardwood. your phone vibrated in your pocket. the pocket of taylor's sweatpants. you cursed loudly and pulled your head up from your knees, tear stains now apparent on the light gray fabric. as if they were infested with disease, you clawed the pants off, throwing them far away from you along with the phone still vibrating in their right pocket.