#i just got drowned in feels don't mind me

[pomefioredove]

omg i LOVE the concept of cookies as asks so can i have a sugar cookie, #8, with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows thank yeww 🙏

t-t-total idia victory!

order #8, sugar with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ internet connection

tropes: ex (mutuals) to lovers, roommate au characters: idia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

It was the closest experience to dating Idia had ever gotten, and likely the only experience he'd ever get again.

Three months.

Three perfect, blissful months.

That's 13.0357 weeks, 91.2501 days, 2,190 hours of chats, voice calls, and texts with someone he had almost considered his.

He was raising his confidence stats to ask them out when they sent him a message, which would be their last:

"router busted. sry. will get it fixed soon"

That was weeks ago.

Idia couldn't blame them. They were going to get tired of him eventually, and ghosting him, sucky as it was, was still the easiest way to let him down.

Then, at least, he could pretend that they were telling the truth.

"Come on, Idy! This is your chance! You'll never get over them if you never meet anyone else!"

Ortho's cheery, hopeful words twist Idia's stomach with guilt. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He buries himself deeper into his blankets. "I don't want anyone else,"

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe you'll make friends!"

Unlikely. Idia doesn't have the social XP for that. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway?

He can't even keep Magicord mutuals.

Then again, he has no other choice.

The Prefect had asked to stay somewhere with a high-speed internet connection while post-S.T.Y.X. Ramshackle was being repaired, and Ortho had volunteered Idia.

And his room.

Ugh. Why can't anything go right for once?

Idia hides under his covers like a small child, drowning the sound of the door and voices in PreMo.

He honestly doesn't know a lot about you. He doesn't get out much, and even if he did, you've always got those OP normie friends around you.

He knows you don't talk much. He's actually never heard you talk at all.

Whatever.

Idia only emerges from his blankets when his ears are ringing from the music and his body is sore from stillness.

He takes off his headphones and reads the room.

There's Ortho, projecting a beam of light on the wall, and there's Grim, chasing it, and there's you.

You seem a little out of place, awkwardly sitting on the floor when there are chairs and tables, your bags still at your sides, unpacked.

Something about you makes him feel at ease. Weird.

"Oh- Idy!" Ortho chimes. Idia jumps, and then everyone is looking at him. Crap.

"We were wondering when you'd come out! The Prefect has a question for you!"

You give Ortho a panicked look, as if to say you most certainly did not have a question for him. Idia has his own suspicions.

"About the Wi-Fi," Ortho chimes. "They really need to get online."

Idia narrows his eyes. His brother can handle something as simple as that.

"...O-okay," he mumbles. "I guess."

He reluctantly gets out of bed and sits beside you. At least with an objective, he isn't so nervous. You hand him your phone, some sad secondhand thing, and he puts in the password for you.

"Lemme know if it's slow. I've been working on upgrading the router, and it's been a little laggy," he hands your phone to you.

"Shouldn't be a problem, though."

You take it. "I can't complain, I don't have a router at all right now,"

Idia's face turns red.

His eyes go wide.

He can't place it, at first. What's that weird feeling? What is it about you-

You notice his expression. "Uh... did I say something?"

And when you speak again, just like that, Idia jumps to his feet.

"IT-IT'S YOU!"

"You?" Grim asks.

"You?" Ortho echoes.

"Me?"

Idia feels like he's losing his mind, his anxiety cracking and breaking away, shock taking its place.

"Y-yes, you! I know that voice! Don't you- you recognize mine too, don't you?!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh... no... no way,"

"I-I can't believe this!" he says, suddenly grinning. "You weren't lying about the router, it must've got totally busted when S.T.Y.X- oh, crap. IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

"Idy..." Ortho warns. "Your heart rate is-"

"I know! I know, I just- I can't believe it- you, of all people,"

He sits again, shaking. It takes you a moment to catch up.

"I... I wasn't lying," you mumble. "I've been trying to get a decent internet connection since we got back, but..."

"This is the guy?" Grim mumbles to you. He is ignored.

Idia feels lightheaded. This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is some weird dream.

He can't seem to stop grinning, anyway.

"Will you go out with me?!" he asks, without thinking at all. But not even the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to ground him.

You stare back, your own eyes wide.

And then, in your familiar voice, in your familiar easing presence: "I'd like that,"

[deleteddewewted]

Supermarket Romance P6

Demetrian Titus x Gn! Reader

S: Titus and you meet up at the supermarket to help him find a compression sleeve for his leg. He's excited to spend time with you and receive help. He opens up a but more about himself and you soon realize that the mysterious stranger is actually just as vulnerable as you.

MDNI

W: Some Abelism, Angst, Fluff, Feelings Are Discovered, Chairon Is Mentioned, Lust and Feelings

If you want to buy me a Ko-fi

Taglist: @kingmagnificolover @garlickedbreads @eliferraris @justeverythingnothingelse @absent-still @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lichkingofangmar @hatsubara-8chan @riokunova @sk-3-tch @futtorliya @missmannequin

Previous/Next

Titus was waiting outside the supermarket on a bench that was placed near the entrance, his cane leaning against the wall next to him as he awaited your arrival. He had forgone pants again and instead went with loose shorts as he had concluded that he might need to try on some of the compression sleeves. He wore his brace again, his leg was acting up and he needed the support to walk. This weather did not agree with him. His leg and joints complained as he got dressed to leave his home and he hoped that this trip would be quick so he could go back to his warm home. Though, the anxiety wouldn't let him rush you by texting you or calling you. He wanted to see you as this would be the first time he would be purposefully spending time with you.

He looked out towards the parking lot, his car parked closer to the store as he didn't feel like walking all that much on the way back. He thought about leaving his cane in the car at first, maybe it would make him look less pathetic, and yet he brought it with him. You had seen it already and hadn't made a negative comment about it. He looked down at his leg brace and wondered why you hadn't mocked him. He was abnormal in appearance, his once unscarred and clear face was now draped with age and uncanny injuries that would leave anyone starring in horror. He was deep in thought to the point he hadn't noticed you calling out his name.

“Titus! It’s good to see you again! Come on, you’ll get sunburnt if you stay outside.” You stopped in front of him, a smile plastered on your face. You looked comfortable, baggy oversized pants that he could only assume were pajama pants and a loose shirt that hung over you like a tent draped your body. You were in your sleeping clothing.

"Yeah, when i said i got locked out i mean i got locked out." You explained while giggling.

"I dont know what possessed me to leave my house without changing first but i guess this is the look for the day. Hope you don't mind being seen with me looking like a hot mess." You joked, your eyes lingering on his own as you waited for a response.

"Not at all. Its understandable." He replied back. He tried his best not to stare to much but he couldn't help but think you looked like a child who had stolen their parent's clothes. You were drowning in your clothes and he knew you probably were more comfortable than he was. How he envied you and your lack of care for others' opinions on your apperance.

"Let's head in. The suns only getting hotter and the weather is going to get cooler later on. Maybe if were lucky we'll get rain tonight."

“Of course.” He stood up, grabbed his cane, and used it to lift himself up from the bench he was sitting on. His leg began to tremble, he didn't feel stable putting weight on it. He looked down and glared at it, his face red with embarrassment.

“Here," You get closer to him, bending down to wrap your arm around his waist and under his shoulder, "Use my shoulder.” Titus tensed for a moment as he felt your body next to his own, your hand placed next to his side as you leaned in to give him your body as a support. He relaxed and took your support to get up and find his footing. You both stood there for a moment, you holding his waist as he tried to lean his weight away from you in fear that he would crush you with his weight.

“Thank you.” His voice was soft, almost like a whisper as he thanked you.

“No problem.” You reassured him with a smile. You waited for him to feel comfortable walking before letting him lead the way inside the store.

Once inside, you ask him to follow you to the far right side of the store towards the pharmacy. Titus followed close behind as you made your way down the different departments before reaching your destination. A long line of people were waiting to pick up their prescriptions by the pharmacy counter as you walked past them towards the aisle you were intending. Placed right next to the pain medication and muscle cream was a wall full of different types of braces, compression sleeves, and mobility aids. Titus was almost embarrassed to say he didn’t know this section of the store existed. In his defense, he didn’t get his medication from the store, he just picked it up at the pharmacy at the hospital. And in the cases in which he needed muscle relaxers or creams, he ordered them online because he didn't want to interact with a cashier. You stopped in front of the giant shelf of items and began looking through them before turning to face him.

“Let’s get you something that’s tight enough to smooth out under your clothes but not too tight that it’s uncomfortable. Would you say your leg is a Large or an Extra Large?” You crouched down and started pulling different colored compression sleeves, some were adorned in fun patterns while others were neutral colors like black or beige.

“E- Excuse me?” He stuttered out. He blinked at you, hoping to get clarity on what you asked him but none came to him.

“Extra large it is!” You pulled a skin-toned sleeve and pressed it against his exposed leg to see if the color matched. It wasn't an exact match but it was close enough to not be noticeable at a glance.

“Do you want something that looks like your skin color or do you want to go with the basic black sleeve?” You ask as you grab another sleeve.

“The black sleeve should suffice.” You nodded at his comment before undoing it from its hooked packaging. It slit out in one piece and handed it over to him.

“Go ahead and put it on, see if it feels comfortable or not.” You watched as he slipped it on, his other leg flexing as he balanced on it to slip the sleeve over his shoe and pull it up his leg. He hiked it up as much as he could, you could still see the defined muscles under the fabric. You had to pry your eyes away from the mouth watering sight.

As he placed his leg down he began flexing and unflexing his now covered leg and swung it a little just to see how it felt. He liked the tightness and the appearance, it was oddly subtle in appearance since it looked like leggings under his shorts though it was only one sleeve. This worked for him. He liked that it fit with the hobbies he had which were mainly working out. He worked out often and no one would question it, maybe this would also let him wear his leg brace without feeling like he stood out in public.

"It feels good. Almost like a tighter and thicker layer of skin." He commented. he continued to watch as it moved smoothly over the leg brace and didn't prevent his mobility. He wished he would have found out about this sooner.

"Does the size work?" You asked, watching as he examined his leg.

"It does. I think this is perfect for my needs."

"Let's get you some variety so you don't have to worry about doing laundry all the time." With that, you both grabbed a few colors that Titus liked and looked over the rest of the aisle for things he might want to try.

He enjoyed your presence and the patience you showed him. Not only did you not rush him but you also helped him find other items that might help him. From a specialized heating pad meant to be worn on the lower back, to informing him of the joys of a full body massage, you helped make Titus feel more comfortable seeking alternative help for his problems. This was enjoyable in a way he didn’t think it would be. You both probably spent an hour or so just walking up and down the aisles looking around before he even noticed that it was getting late.

“Y/n, I'm sorry for having taken up much of your time. It’s late, allow me to thank you properly for your help.” He offered.

“Titus, don’t be silly. I’m happy to help a friend out. You don’t owe me anything.” You reassured him. You had found an empty basket and had been using it to carry much of his things so he could browse without issue.

“I insist. Is there anything you would like to get?” He insisted. He looked at you directly, hoping that you would agree to get something so that the guilt of spending your time would vanish, but you disagreed.

“Not really from here but, again, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to just hang out with you.” You patted his arm hoping that it would make him stop insisting as it was getting harder to not cave in. His eyes were just too expressive.

“How about this. I’m hungry and don’t feel like cooking. Would you allow me to invite you to a quick meal?” He offered. You don’t know how he managed to do it but this behemoth of a man was making puppy eyes at you unknowingly and it softened your resolve.

“Fine…” You managed to choke out. Your face began heating up and you hoped that he couldn't notice it as he stared at you.

“Perfect. Let me pay for these items and then we’ll find something to eat.” You didn't know what to expect but he put out a small smile that was almost unnoticeable but it engrained itself into your memory. The edge of his mouth quirked up and his expression eased as he looked down at you. It made something in you flutter to life and it left you wanting to see that smile again.

You joined him as he checked out, item after item was bagged, the total of everything slowly amounting to a number you could only dream of having reflected in your bank account. You helped him carry some of the items to his car before hopping into the passenger seat and waiting for him to join you. He didn’t start the car's engine right away, instead, he sat in his seat and waited for a moment before turning his key and bringing the car to life.

“Is there anywhere you personally want to go?” He asked as he pulled out of his parking spot.

“I still have an hour to kill before my landlord shows up, so why not a drive-thru?"

“Perfect.” He drove the two of you to a place close to his apartment. He asked if you wanted to eat in the car or if you wanted to come to his apartment and eat there to which you replied that you would love to go to his place. He feared he might have rushed your friendship, that he might have coerced you into going to his home, but when you agreed he couldn’t have been more ecstatic. He pulled into the drive-thru window of a McDonald's and began listing off the items you both wanted from the menu before thanking the employee and pulling to the next window. He grabbed the orders and paid even though you had tried slipping your card to the employee only to be physically blocked by Titus' body as he handed them his credit card. He drove to his home, meals sitting on the back seat with the rest of his bags as the two of you sat in silence.

"I don't think I ever really told you what I do for a living, did I?" You started the conversation, hoping to kill the silence.

"I made an assumption that you were an artist. Maybe an art instructor."

"I wish. Art teachers get paid consistently. I'm a freelancer." You murmured.

"That sounds fun. You have the freedom to chose what projects you want to take on."

"But I dont have guaranteed employment or pay." The conversation died again but Titus, maybe out of curiosity, reignited it again.

"What's your end goal for your career?" He asked, curiosity dripping from his voice.

"I don't know, Titus. At the moment I just want to be able to pay my bills without worry." You sighed, almost looking deflated in the passenger seat as you looked at him and then out the window without adding anything more. He pulled up to his home and parked before unlocking the car doors and unbuckling his seat belt. He didn't exit just yet, he sat there mulling in silence before speaking.

"What would it take to achieve that goal?"

"Something that's going to be long-term or semi-long term. My last client ended their contract with me cause they claimed they found a 'quicker alternative'." You explained, "Apparently, AI is 'revolutionizing' the business so they no longer need actual artists when they can get art for free." You mope. Titus didn't know how to best comfort you as he didn't understand the greater issue that was being underlined but he did provide you with a hand on your shoulder in a small gesture of reassurance in the form of a smile.

"You will find something soon. I can feel it." With that, you both got out of the car and grabbed the bags from the back seats before entering his apartment. His home was unassuming from the outside, colored in a light beige paint and the door painted brown. When you entered, it was as bearing as you would have assumed it would be. No pictures, no decor, nothing that would scream that someone lived here was evident anywhere in the space except for some blankets on the couch. The kitchen was cleared of cups from its countertop, there were no coffee bags out, no cereals that he might enjoy, there was nothing. Everything looked like it was part of an Ikea display, devoid of personality and it made you sad as it most likely indicated that Titus didn't feel this place was home but a shelter to sleep in.

"I usually eat at my desk, so this will be a welcomed change." He commented.

You smiled up at him before placing some of the bags on the kitchen table and sitting down across from him as you unwrapped your burger and fries. You ate with gusto as you hadn't had take out in a long while. Having not had the budget to order out or even get a cheap meal, you had missed the taste of frozen oil patties and salty fries drenched in day old boiling oil. From the taste to the smell, this cheap meal had been the best thing you've had in a while.

"You seem to be enjoying your meal." Titus teased. The edges of his lips lifted as he watched you eat. You practically inhaled your food and choked on it when he started talking.

"It's been a while since I've had fast food. It's oddly good after a while." You explained, a smile still stuck on your face as you ate. He noticed how crumbs clung to your mouth, your cheeks puffed as you continued to chew on your food. It was a pleasant sight.

"I agree. During my service, i longed for the days we could go off base and purchase food and items we didn't have the luxury to be given." You nodded at his comment before placing your food down and grabbing a napkin to clean your hands.

"You served?" You asked.

"Yes, for a long time." He said it with a sense of longing. You could see it in his eyes again, what he meant. He looked like he was recounting old memories in his mind.

"Must have been one hell of a career if you stayed for so long." You joked, a chuckle escaping you as you resumed eating.

"I would agree. I truly enjoyed what I was doing." The conversation ended as you both continued eating, Titus looked pensive as he ate. He stared at an abandoned piece of food wrapper before he directed himself to you.

"What type of work do you usually make?"

"I usually do illustrations and paintings. I loved traditional art as a teenager and had a focus on it but once I got the chance to study further I opted into graphic design and digital art."

"Why did you expand to graphic design?" He asked.

"My parents told me they would only help with college if I picked up something that would 'pay me money' in the future but i still continued learning and going to fine arts courses." You took another bite out of your burger, chewing a little aggressively as if it had personally offended you.

"You are a jack of all trades, Y/n." He said, voice soft and laced with kindness.

"I guess I am. Just not good at implementing them, I guess." You fired back.

"Would you mind showing me some of your work?"

"Sure, it's mostly on my socials. Let me pull up my profile." You clicked away on your phone before making your way around the table and showing him. Your work was beautiful. Large pieces on canvas that you painted and digital artworks that demonstrated people or environments impressed him. He wasn't one for the arts, the most he did was sing drill songs and drunk karaoke that he didn't even remember from when he was a young soldier, but this was something else. He felt something when he looked at the painting you had depicting a woman lying in a bed of flowers, her brown skin and face delicate as light beads of sunlight showered her face in what could only be described as an angelic touch. Many other drawings of friends, neighbors, and employees of the supermarket were drawn digitally. You even had one of Chairon where he was flexing and showing off his prosthetic arm. Every drawing was outstanding in his opinion and they reflected you perfectly. You had some other posts that depicted your graphic design work, it was just as fun and artistic, to say the least.

"These are beautiful, Y/n. You should submit them to a gallery." He complimented. He turned to face you and he was nose to nose with you. You were so close, he could smell your perfume and get a whiff of your natural scent. Warm and almost honey-like, you were addicting to the point he almost leaned in closer to get a better smell. He couldn't help but let his eyes drop down to your lips which were slightly open. If he wanted to he could lean in and plant a kiss on them. He turned his head to look back at your phone and asked you to explain what one of your sketches was, hoping to distract himself from the fluttering feeling in his stomach. These impure thoughts about you, they were random and unnecessary. He shouldn't be thinking of you in this way, you were clean of sin, clear of damage

You on the other hand were internally panicking at the closeness. God, his scent was strong. He smelled of smoked wood and something you could only describe as masculine musk that clung to him. It was pleasant but it lit a flame in the pit of your stomach you weren't sure how to address. When he had turned around it was almost as if you had gotten staring at him, like he knew you were thinking about him and the way he looked. You got a better look at the faint marks that decorated the right side of his temple, some of them had raised scar tissue from what you could assume was shrapnel that had gotten lodged there and had to be removed, and a long scar that cut through his hairline. He had another set of scars on his nose and cheek that looked more befitting a man who was prone to danger than the gentle soul you had gotten to know. His eyes on you were electrifying, god you want to lean in and kiss him even if his lips were a little chapped. But you don't, instead, you take note of his red ears and how the blush trails down to his cheeks.

You both parted, creating distance between the two of you as you realized you might be making him uncomfortable, his posture was stiff and his breathing shallow. You thanked him for the compliments and asked him if there was anything else he wanted help with so you two could plan further ahead.

"There is nothing that truly comes to mind though I didn't know our worlds were so small."

"What do you mean?" You cocked your head to the side.

"Chairon. He's the security guard at the gym i go to. How did you two know each other?" He explained while gesturing at your phone.

"Chairon bought me a coffee this one time. I was in line and I was waiting to order. The prizes at the shop had increased but I didn't know, so when it was my turn to pay and I was short a few cents, Chairon who was behind me offered to pay the remainder." You talked about the other man with a fond smile on your face. Something about it made Titus feel relieved but something akin to a knot began to form in his stomach.

"Was that the extent of your interaction?" He asked, his eyes focused on your face hoping to see your reaction.

"Nope! Chairon and I became friends, kinda. Sometimes he gives me a ride or advice on how to fix things around my place. I'm not handy at all." This brought a bitter feeling to Titus.

He doesn't dislike Chairon being a good person, the man has always been kind, but he didn't particularly like that he was close to you. This felt like a defect Titus needed to fix. Like he was wrong in some way and he needed to realign his thoughts for thinking so bitterly of a man who has done him no wrong. This knot in his stomach only grew tighter as you reaffirmed the other man's good nature and it left him feeling ill.

"It sounds like you two are close." He commented blankly, hoping that the acrid feelings weren't evident in his voice.

"Chairon's an amazing guy. He's sweet and funny and always there to support you even at your lowest. I'm sure you can find a friend in him too."

"I have. I'm... grateful." He smiled at the memory of the younger man helping him through a panic attack he had recently. Not only did he not judge Titus, but he was helpful. He had brought him cold water and a wet towel to press against his head as he spoke him through it. Chairon had empathy for him that no one else had shown him outside of his small group of friends. It brought him hope and reassurance even though they didn't know each other all that well.

Lost in thought, Titus hadn't noticed your phone begin to vibrate or you checking it to see who had been calling you. The call ended and a notification popped up with the name of your landlord attached.

"Oh shit, it's my landlord. I have to go!" You start to clean up your mess, empty food wrappers and greasy takeout bags were all thrown into the trashcan that stood by the table. Titus followed suit, worried that you would leave in a hurry before he could offer to drive you home. He clears his clean wrappers and also throws them away and makes his way back towards you.

"Let me drive you home. It's late and I don't feel comfortable letting you go home by yourself." He pleaded. You tried not to look at his eyes but the pretty blue eyes he possessed had you in a chokehold. He looked concerned, his crow's feet growing deeper and somehow making him look more handsome. You blushed as you averted your eyes, urging in your mind to reply already as he only seemed to grow more dejected as the seconds ticked by with no response.

"Sure, that would be nice." You managed to push out, cheeks still in flamed and growing hotter by the moment.

"Great, let me grab my keys and we'll go." He made his way to the kitchen counter and grabbed his keys before heading towards his front door, opening it, and holding it for you. He waits until you're out before locking his door and guiding you back to his car. He seats himself in the driver's seat, you following suit as you buckle yourself in beside him. He turned the engine on with a quick flick of his keys and drives off towards your home with the help of his GPS and your directions.

The drive grows quiet as you looked at the window and watched people and cars pass you by. The sky had grown dark and the air cooled as the winter months neared. You liked this time of year and also dreaded it. It was usually nice weather and allowed you to have an excuse to hoddle up in your home in blankets and hoodies. But it also brought on a horrifying electricity bill due to the heater being used the most during this time. You wondered what Titus would think about doing during the winter. It was already starting to take a toll on him, you could see the heating pad on the couch and a mini heater nearby on the floor. You wondered if he worried about the bills like you did. You doubted it since he looked to be doing well for himself but it was still a nice thought, that maybe you and him were not so different after all.

As he pulled onto your street he took note of the state of the neighborhood. Old homes that have been left to rot or have been neglected were everywhere. Even as he pulled over and parked in front of your home he noticed how the paint on your homes walls not only had yellowed over time but also had begun to peel. He understood that people were struggling, and he had no place to judge as he was practically living like he was homeless when he was deployed, but this was something else. He wondered what had led to this being that situation you were thrown in, if you felt comfortable or even safe in this place you called your home.

He noticed a man sitting by the porch with a cigarette in between his fingers. The man waved at you both, no smile present as he he did. You sighed, annoyance already settling in as you began to unbuckle your seat belt. You were about to open the car door but was stopped by Titus' hand reaching out and grabbing you by the wrist. His hold was loose, almost as if he feared that he might hurt you if he tightened his grip.

"Do you want me to... stay until he leave?" You listened to him but the words didn't process. You merely blinked at him.

“I’ll be fine, Demetrian.” You pull your arm away and he gives way without hesitation. He nods at you but not before telling you that he has no issue with waiting if you don’t feel comfortable being left alone.

“It’s sweet of you, but the most he’s going to do is give me a nasty key fee since he had to replace it.” You reassure.

“Well then, I’ll see you some other time.”

“We’ll talk soon. I promise.” You gave him a reassuring smile before closing the car door and making your way over to your landlord. Titus watched as you and the man spoke before shaking his head and driving off.

You eyed Titus’ car as it left, turning to watch it drive and take a turn that made him vanish from your sight.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Your landlord joked. His breath smelled of nicotine and it made you scrunch up your face in disgust.

"No, he's a friend I made when grocery shopping."

"You always get attached to the weirdest people." He comments before leaving your porch and walking towards his car. He peels off with no regard for the other cars on the road or the speed limit. You enter your home, the new key unlocking the door without a hitch, unlike the one you had before. You're home was a mess. Canvasas, sketch paper, portfolios, and drawers filled to the brim with tubes of paint and brushes. The space felt full and yt to you it was empty. You had no pets, you had no other person to share the space with. You were alone coming to live out here just as you were back home where you were always last to receive praise or recognition while your sibling got all of it.

[kuromi-hoemie]

when will we as a society be free from the death grip Sriracha has on restaurants when you want your food spicy.

bestie u used all these flavorful spices and sauces and you're overpowering all of them by just drowning it in Sriracha, i can barely taste anything else.

[momochiiee-reblogs]

Three people in this household and me being the one who is the furthest away from the doorbell, is the single one who heard it. The time it takes me to cover my chest and reach the door is just enough for the post man to mark the package as no one's home will deliver again tomorrow

My brother's room is right on top of the main door so the sound is annoyingly loud in there and dad who was the closest to the door was just as always deafened by the atrocious volume of the stupid tv

No one pays any mind when I complain about loud sounds since the amount of fucks this family gives for eachother is impressively 0, so there goes my package on another trip around because this people can't admit their hearing is severely damaged. Meanwhile I must endure hearing every single TV show from the other corner of the house and over the lofi on my headphones. Doesn't help the tv shows usually have agonic screaming in them which causes me to feel the agony I'm hearing and more often than not I end trying not to throw up. If I'm sleeping I get very disturbing nightmares on top of it, but whatever my problems may be all in my head or something

[medicinemane]

Man, I'm just kind of dazed today

I woke up yesterday around 9am, didn't do much for the day, went to bed... realized it was too hot to fall asleep (cause my window is broken so I can't open it)

So I got up, filled 3 box with papers as I sorted out the magazines and mail

Then I needed to stay up till after 8am so I could go to the post office to return that bowl. Came back and laid down but... you know when your body just feels wired and you really need to sleep but can't? Probably cause it's pumping out hormones to keep me awake to compensate for me being so tired, that's my guess based on how it feels

Anyway, lay down and kind of drift off with a video in the background, but... I think I was just on the verge of sleep but not able to cross over... like dozing at best

Then I hear Bart making noise and look over and he's acting like he's hunting a mouse, and sure enough he was, so he helps me cup it, and then I go take it to a field outside of town to hopefully live a better life... but clearly wasn't sleeping if I'm doing that

And... I'm still up. I think I'm gonna try and take another crack at sleeping... I hope I can do it. Things do at least feel a bit cooler

But yeah, I'm a mess today, gonna be two days worth of dash to look through whenever I get up, and then I can also respond to the couple messages I've got

But oof... hate feeling like this. The non depressed part of me wants to die just because maybe then I could finally rest

[eeriehowl]

interesting how i was obsessed with xanxus, just had a giant crush on him and talked about him all the time....and now, when i got back into this hole, the main thing swirling through my mind is mammon

[myheartxmyman]

Right now I feel so old and sad at the same time. Those feelings are so strong I feel paralyzed and slow.

[astonmartinii]

copycat | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but really it's just annoying

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: sorry to all of the chloes of the world, i just chose a random name!

f1tea

liked by user1, user2 and 27,305 others

tagged: yourusername, chloereed

f1tea: SHE STRIKES AGAIN! y/n y/ln, oscar piastri's girlfriend, recently changed up her style with some bangs and surprise, surprise chloe reed shared her updated look just days later. then to really pour salt in the wound, reed posted yet again in mclaren merch. will she ever give up?

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user3: BRO YOU COULDN'T HAVE WAITED AT LEAST A WEEK?

user4: i think all subtlety was lost when she copied a literal TATTOO

user5: the way it's y/n's tattoo dedicated to oscar as well...

user6: at what point do we get a restraining order?

user7: the day that girl ends up in the paddock we should let y/n fight her with no consequences

user8: this has been going on for so long i feel like y/n has a lot to unleash on her

user9: at this point i think all of us y/n fans should be able to get their lick in

user10: i'm new to f1 can someone explain this lore to me? (srs)

user11: y/n and oscar have been together for nearly four years now, they got together when they were like 19. this chloe reed girl went on one date with oscar when they were 17 and now copies everything y/n does to try and get his attention? like down to haircut and tattoos ... it's kinda crazy and y/n has made some references to it but like we're nearing like the third year of this so i think she might snap soon

user12: it's even got to the point where chloe has like started talking with y/n's accent? she has a very obvious accent so like it's INSANE

user13: and to think all of this over a single date SIX YEARS AGO

user14: on a brighter note - y/n was MADE for bangs they look so fucking good

user15: obviously she should stop but if there's anyone you want to look like, it would be y/n

user16: at this point is it even over oscar anymore? or has chloe lost herself to journey to BECOME y/n

user17: the fact that she still camps out under all of oscar's posts and constantly posts in mclaren merch

user18: and don't even get me started with how she's always in the comments of oscar's sisters' comments

user19: someone needs to get nicole to put this girl on blast

user20: remember before elon took away public likes that mark went on a liking spree about chloe being a lil weirdo

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant and 1,209,566 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris & maxfewtrell

yourusername: summer breakin' with my boy (and his boy)

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user24: MAMA THERE'S A BITCH TRYNA BE JUST LIKE YOU 💜

user25: i unfortunately think she's very aware of it

oscarpiastri: i know you love me because you didn't get annoyed about THEM gatecrashing our couples getaway

landonorris: what if we are a couple HUH???

oscarpiastri: max literally has a girlfriend?

landonorris: ur so close-minded osc

yourusername: i love you osc even with these little stray cats you've picked up

landonorris: did we or did we not organise a super romantic dinner for you?

oscarpiastri: i organised a dinner and you two are so fussy that you left to find some chicken nuggets?

landonorris: therefore giving you a romantic evening on the water?

yourusername: you fell in the water trying to get back on board from the tender and i had to jump in and save you after a fish touched your foot and you began to have a panic attack

landonorris: god you do something nice for people and all you get is SHAMED

mclarenf1: you nearly drowned ???

user26: is chloe going to attempt to drown someone so she can claim she also saved an f1 driver

user27: @georgerussell63 alert the GDPA - NO WATER !!!

georgerussell63: understood 🫡

user28: has it not gotten to a crazy point now that we're warning drivers that this crazy girl might DROWN them ???

user29: at what point do we put oscar and y/n is witness protection

user30: the day she manages to get in the paddock me thinks

charles_leclerc: i see our invite got lost in the mail?

yourusername: please refer to whatever the fuck was going above your comment

charles_leclerc: that you're a victim of identity theft?

yourusername: we been known, but BEFORE THAT

charles_leclerc: oh. you should've let lando drown

landonorris: ???

oscarpiastri: i think that might have gotten me fired?

yourusername: no more papaya rules?

chloereed

liked by user31, user32 and 11,045 others

chloereed: summer breakin'

view all comments

user33: oh brother this guy STINKS

user34: i am feeling sufficiently creeped out on the behalf of y/n and oscar

user35: i really don't understand her game here though? does she expect oscar to see this and actually mistake her for y/n and leave y/n for her?

user36: at this point i think she's lost in the sauce

user37: also oscar is hilariously down bad for y/n like he could probably recognise her via vibrational field he would not fall for this cheap imitation

logansargeant: this ain't it btw (it's never been it)

user38: not logan tapping in

logansargeant: who gon check me boo? i ain't got a job

chloereed: i don't know what you're trying to say, but i don't appreciate you spreading misinformation and hate

logansargeant: you have literally copied everything about my best friend down to her sentimental tattoos and you've essentially stalked my other bestfriend for nearly seven years ?

chloereed: it's not stalking if i know i'm what he really wants? she's the imitation of me

logansargeant: you like need help

user39: GO LOGAN

user40: bro has been let of the leash

user41: tbf when you think about it, logan has been friends with oscar for years and by default friends with y/n for just as long so like he's probably seen how this has effected them personally

user42: i don't really see how this is such a big deal, people try and imitate celebs all the time ?

user43: i think it's because she knows at least one of them personally and is very viciously pursuing oscar

user44: also there has to be an aspect we don't know because i don't think logan would be publicly taking her on in the comments if it weren't a lot worse

user45: also ... like it probably feels like shit as a person generally to have everything you do copied and not even get a tiny bit of credit

f1

liked by danielricciardo, patooward and 1,784,039 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri

f1: we're ready for you monza

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user46: OMG IS THAT?

user47: i'm being so for real y/n needs to fight her

user48: OSCAR RUNNNNNNNNN

landonorris: do i need to inform the legal department?

yourusername: you might want to give them some sort of heads up

chloereed: why you afraid i'll steal back my man?

yourusername: no i'm afraid i'll get hit with a manslaughter charge

chloereed: that's a threat - my lawyers will be hearing

yourusername: tell them bitch, oscar would still choose conjugal visits with me over ever being with you

user49: came for the fast cars, staying for whatever this drama is omg

user50: i once went on a reddit deep dive about this drama where they compiled all the evidence and holy moly this confrontation has been a long time coming

user51: the best (or maybe worse) thing abotu all of this is that her claim of being with oscar first and dating him when they were 17 is based on one 'date' where is was just a joint ball between their schools where there was a compulsory dance in which they were partners

maxverstappen1: yo this shit is insane

user52: aren't you meant to be in the car in 20 minutes?

maxverstappen1: drama waits for no one @yourusername i got ur back

charles_leclerc: at this point i will mobilise the tifosi @yourusername

yourusername: i can handle her, i might just need some money to fix my nails

oscarpiastri: please do not fight her, she's not worth it

chloereed: she won't fight for your love but i will

oscarpiastri: can you just fuck off

user53: i fear she's pushed them over the edge now lol

user54: i'm glad they're both letting her have it in the PUBLIC INSTAGRAM COMMENTS <3

f1tea

liked by user55, user56 and 34,982 others

f1tea: she's finally done it? chloe reed was spotted in the paddock at monza. will we finally see a confrontation between the two girls?

view all comments

user55: i FUCKING hope so

user56: if i were y/n you'd have to hold me back i'm being so serious

user57: i'd be in oscar's mclaren so fast and be driving down the pit lane to look for her

user58: i'd already be in an italian prison sorry not sorry

user59: y/n needs to give me lessons on being this graceful

user60: at this point we should just have an undercard for the race that's these girls tussling it out

user61: at this point i think logan, charles and max are ready to jump in

user62: charles and max being in the comments just before FP getting the scoop is so insane i love them

user63: imagine getting these f1 drivers this pressed over an aesthetic

user64: if you think this is just about an aesthetic you're just being dumb on purpose

user65: but like y/n is just a girl with bangs and a basic look, u could say like half of the female population are copying y/n

user66: but like please look at the actual evidence, it's way deeper than bangs babe

user67: also the TATTOO WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT THE TATTOO

user68: whatever happens y/n will always be better than me

user69: she needs to bash her publicly if she won't beat her physically lol

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 3,984,022 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please leave us alone, you'll never be her and i don't want you to be

view all comments

user71: STUNT ON THEM QUEEN

user72: a man who vocally defends you >>>

yourusername: love you bby

oscarpiastri: if anyone wants to take me away from you they'll have to defeat me in combat

yourusername: not saying i want that but you would be so sexy in full armour

oscarpiastri: for you... i would wear anything :3

user73: bro said his piece and immediately went back to simping like a pro

user74: if he doesn't offer to wear a suit of armour in the bedroom is he really in love with you?

user75: i guess we're not getting any dad!oscar content any time soon

landonorris: ???

user75: it's a joke about protected sex genius

landonorris: OH

chloereed: that's not what you said then oscar

oscarpiastri: THAT WAS SIX YEARS AGO IN A CONVERSATION I WAS OBLIGATED TO HAVE GET A GRIP WOMAN

oscarpiastri: YOU WILL NEVER FEEL SATISFACTION IN YOUR LIFE IF YOU CONTINUE TO COPY EVERYTHING SHE DOES AND REFUSE TO BE YOUR OWN PERSON

oscarpiastri: so PLEASE FOR YOUR OWN SAKE GET YOUR OWN LIFE AND LEAVE US ALONE

oscarpiastri: oh. i'm blocked

oscarpiastri: slay

user76: so ... oscar... when can we get this level of reading on the radio

yourusername: don't make him do community service :(

user77: but him being sassy is a service to the community

yourusername: you make a good point

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,045,677 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: you can be a copy cat all you like, but you'll never beat the original

view all comments

user78: i am sorry i exist at the same time as you

user79: i know this a whole love post but i have a confession, i am IN LOVE WITH YOU GET RID OF THE AUSSIE

oscarpiastri: 🤨

charles_leclerc: this was a whole saga, i'm happy it's all worked out for you guys but this was hella entertaining - when can we do it again?

yourusername: never again hopefully

charles_leclerc: boring!

yourusername: it literally got to the point that you offered to leave your car keys in a 'special spot'

charles_leclerc: well obviously i don't mean to THAT extent but i just want a bit of drama, let a girl live

user80: shit stirrer charles leclerc i love you

user81: we should've known he was in the trenches with this, the inchident knows no bounds

oscarpiastri: i love you and i'm sorry this happened. but you do slay so i could see why people would want to be you

yourusername: i knew me with bangs would be too powerful 😔

oscarpiastri: you're the most beautiful girl in the world no matter what

yourusername: ugh you have me blushing pretty boy

landonorris: cringe

yourusername: maybe if you copied oscar's flirting techniques you'd actually be wifed

landonorris: i thought we just established that copying is bad

yourusername: trust me, you need the help

user82: i'm glad we've returned to peace with the lando slander

user83: they're power is insane

maxverstappen1: can i say helping you come up with this caption is my community service

yourusername: fuck yes

maxverstappen1: stunting on hoes is very much in the public interest

fin.

note: i'm back in a rhythm !! this is not so subtle so i'll expand here: please please please do not steal my work, idc if you change the driver, if you're blatantly stealing my ideas and concepts - to the point that people are messaging me to make me aware, please don't! or at least credit me rather than pretending this a completely original thought. mamma mia didn't bother me as much because it's obviously the musical's idea, but omg undercover verstappen? big reputation? and guilty as sin - down to the series name? i haven't made any posts about this but know it's very much bothering me and if i see anymore i may have to put it on blast. thank you all for reading, soz for the rant but this has been going on for months.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 23rd. tom riddle — wet dreams, house rivals.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom’s been infiltrating your dreams, and you decide it’s time to call him out on it.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNIIII, coercion!!!!, dark!tom, mind manipulation, religious undertones, gryffindor!reader, enemies if you squint, fingering, squirting, begging, dream sex, tom riddle is his own warning, so much praise, dirty talk, verbal sparring.

You've never been a heavy sleeper. Even as a child, the smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, a shift in the walls—would jolt you awake. For years, you chalked it up to some ingrained survival instinct, some form of trauma response to whatever part of your childhood still haunts you. You got used to it.

But lately, it isn't sound that’s been waking you. It isn't movement or foundation shifts, either. It's the dreams.

Dreams—strange, lucid, intense dreams of him. Always him. Dreams that make you feel like you're drowning, like you're flying, like you've found a new level of intoxication that you'd never imagined possible—and each time the dreams wake you up, the sheets (and whatever bottoms you may have been wearing) are always soaked, and your thighs are always shaking.

It's maddening.

They feel too real to be anything but a violation, his presence bleeding into your subconscious regardless of how much you try to fight it. You know it means something is wrong. You'd tried to rationalize yourself into going back to sleep, telling yourself it's just hormones or some form of stress, but you're too smart to believe your own excuses.

You know it's more than that.

He's haunting you in your sleep—in the most unexpected way. The dreams are always lucid enough that you can feel it—you can feel him—his mouth on yours, his hands on your hips, his dick bullying your fucking cervix and his magic on your clit—leaving behind nothing but hunger. Hunger that's so intense it makes you want him in a way it almost scares you.

You tell yourself you hate him, you've always hated him—but denial only lasts for so many days, as you realize you can't look at him or talk to him without the dreams forcing their way to the forefront of your mind, making you remember the feelings and the sensations and how much, despite hating him, you want them to be real.

You wanted to believe it would pass. That this was nothing but a phase, a trick of your overactive mind. But deep down, you knew the truth. Tom Riddle has wormed his way into your head, into your dreams—out of spite—and he's not letting go.

So after a hell of a week of this—with damn near zero hours of sleep—you decide to seek him out. To put an end to this madness. Once and for all.

It takes every ounce of courage and Gryffindor-like reckless bravery you can scrape together just to go through with it, but somehow you do. Somehow, you make it across the castle, make it to his door. You're in your pyjamas, for Merlin's sake. It's 1 a.m., and the slick still coating your thighs from what had to have been your tenth lucid orgasm in a matter of a week is a humiliating reminder of why you're even here at all.

And when the door opens, you have the strange feeling that he's been expecting you, even as he makes a great show of acting surprised to see you, looking you up and down with a lazy, smug glance that makes your pulse quicken so viscerally you lose the last shred of sanity you were pathetically clinging to—

"What the fuck—" you prowl forward without hesitation, forcing him a step back into the room. "—are you doing to me?"

Even if you're not imagining some form of surprise in that smug little smirk, he does his best not to let it show.

"Me?" He says, all pretend innocence, flicking his hand out to shut the door behind you with some spell you don't care to name. "You'll have to be more specific."

You glare at him, refusing to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks in just sweatpants and an oversized shirt—because of course, even casual looks like this are a weapon in his arsenal.

"Cut the bullshit, Riddle," you snap, and you're not sure if it's your lack of sleep or some form of desperation-fuelled bravery, but you're suddenly invading his personal space, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder. "You're fucking haunting me—"

He blinks. "I’m haunting you. And how am I doing that?”

There's a part of you that knows it's a trap—that this is probably exactly what the smug bastard in front of you has been wanting, but your brain is so deprived of sleep and your body is so starved of respite that you decide 'fuck it'—you want answers, and you're going to get them.

"You're in my dreams," you say, bluntly, forcing an exhale alongside it. "You've been in them every night for a week straight. I haven't slept a bloody minute."

That's when it happens—the tiniest flash of amusement in his eyes, so brief you might've missed it if you weren't ready to tear his fucking throat out.

"You're accusing me of giving you dreams?" He asks, in a tone that makes you want to grab him by the front of his shirt and make him cut the bullshit, and you can't tell how much of your own expression is irritation and how much is lust. "You think I've somehow managed to invade your mind?"

"Don't be condescending," you spit, trying to focus on the spot between his eyebrows that makes the heat in your core roar the least, "and don't act like you're incapable. As much as I can't bloody stand you, we both know damn well your mind magic is strong enough to do this to me—"

"Mind magic," he echoes with an amused snort, "you think I'm doing some kind of mind magic to invade your dreams, is that it?"

He's so damn good at this, you think—infuriatingly good. The way he's playing it off like the idea is absurd, completely laughable—

"Fucking precisely.” You can't hide the heat from your voice. You don't care to try. "These aren't just dreams. They're—they're strong. I feel you. Your hands, your tongue, your—"

Dick. You can't even bring yourself to say it.

And the bastard just smirks, like he's reading your mind anyway. Like he knows. That glimmer in his eyes—arrogant, insufferable—only confirms it.

"Hm," he says with something bored, running a hand through his hair. "Your subconscious—"

"It's not a bloody subconscious thing," you cut him off, uninterested in whatever bullshit he was about to feed you. "It's you. You're invading my dreams—I feel you—my body fucking feels you—"

He laughs at that. Like some sick, sadistic freak. He actually laughs—

"Listen to yourself." He says, with a mocking tone that makes you want to shove him. "Are you that desperate to hate me that you're pinning your dreams on me?"

"Hate doesn't even begin to cover it," you spit, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. He shifts slightly, his back brushing the wall. "You've got a hell of an ego, but even you have to know this isn't something I'd want. I wouldn't put you in my dreams willingly if you paid me to do it—"

He hums, smirk never faltering, if anything it fucking grows at the tirade.

"You've been dreaming of me for a week," he points out, coolly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. "And now, here you are—standing in my dorm in the middle of the night, dressed like this." He takes a step toward you, now. "Do you know what that's called, sweetheart?"

Your lungs hitch at the pet name. Your mind is at war with your cunt and it's losing—

"Delirium?" You choke out, noticing another flash of something in his eyes as the gap between you closes. "Insomnia? Sleep deprivation?"

He gives you a mocking arch of the eyebrow.

"No," he says, in a tone that makes you seethe. "It's called obsession."

"Oh. The irony," you can't help but hiss at him, heart pounding because he's in your space and you're in his and this shouldn't be getting to you the way it is. "It's rich, coming from you, that you'd put that on me when—when you've been mindfucking me every goddamn night—"

"Mindfucking you?" He repeats, almost lazily, as his gaze drops, sweeping over you—your pyjamas, the clear lack of bra, the flush creeping up your neck. "Is that what you think I've been doing? You think—"

The way he doesn't even deny it—doesn't argue the accusation—makes your blood boil in a way you can't control.

"It's the only explanation. You've been—you've been—" you cut him off but your sentence falters because his gaze is moving so deliberately, dragging over you like he's cataloging your weaknesses, and the anger curdles into something raw and desperate. "God, Tom, I just need it to stop. I'm so fucking tense and tired. I'm so wound I can't even focus—I'm wet all the time—"

His eyes snap up to meet yours at that, and he gives you a look you can't even begin to interpret. You bite your tongue, realizing the words that left your mouth just a moment too late to pull them back, and you know you've lost the upper hand in this, somehow. You feel the ground slipping from under you and you hate the way your body shivers as he takes another slow, deliberate, step forward.

"Is that what you are?” He wets his lips. "You've come all the way here, in the dead of night, in your pyjamas, half out of your mind with exhaustion because you're wet. Isn't that right?"

You know better than to answer, though you feel yourself walking straight into the trap he's set.

"Piss off," you snap, but the bravado in your voice is paper-thin as he takes another step forward. He's so close now that his scent overwhelms you—leather and spice, something sharp and smoky that makes your head spin. You recognize it, of course you do; it's the same as in your dreams, and the familiarity makes your knees feel unsteady. "You're—"

"Don't act so offended," he leans closer, his voice a low murmur, quiet, almost silky as it wraps around you, and suddenly you barely remember what you were so pissed off about. "You can't even deny it. I made you cum tonight, didn't I? In your dreams."

Your teeth grit. "You know you did—"

He takes one more step and now you're backed right up against his desk—and gods, Tom's tall, so much taller than you—and it feels like he's looming over you, caging you in.

"Mhm." There's a flash of triumph in his eyes as you lose your words. He leans down, breath grazing your ear just as he brings two fingers to your temple, pressing the pads against it. "Let's watch, shall we?"

Watc—oh no.

A cold sense of dread washes over you as you catch on to what he's insinuating, merely a second too late—

"Tom—"

He whispers something, something that pulls you under, and the next thing you know—in a flash of consciousness you didn't even consider possible—you're staring at yourself inside a dream you remember all too well. A dream sequence where you're moaning and trembling beneath him, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in unabashed pleasure as he drives into you, hips snapping with thrust after thrust after thrust—

And it's one thing to have felt it in the safety of your dreams, in the dead of night when you woke slick and desperate, clenching around nothing. But this—this is visceral. You can't look away because it's projecting inside your mind: the flush blooming across your chest, the arch of your back, the way your lips part with every desperate breath. You hear the obscene sounds spilling from your mouth, mingling with his low, guttural grunts—and worst of all, you can feel it.

You can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you, as if he's giving it to you now.

"Mm," you hear him hum from infront of you—it's too much—you're lost in the memory, the dream, and it's a strange, voyeuristic, intimate experience to watch yourself and him like that. "You're worse off than I thought."

You’re gripping the wood of his desk so hard your fingertips are numb, heart flying out of the room as his hand slowly slides from your temple down to your jaw, holding you in place—

"Stop it." You manage to hiss at him, trying to force some semblance of control back into yourself—the last thing you need is to start melting against this bastard. "Tom—"

"You feel that?" He murmurs, breath brushing your neck, and you can't even focus on anything but the sensations he's forcing through your memory—seeing him above you, feeling him inside you. "You do, don't you? This is exactly what you've been feeling all week, isn't it?"

You want to snap at him, cuss him out, but oh god—

"Damn you," you hiss, even as his hands slide down to your hips—and it almost feels as if he's touching you twice, as if there are two sets of hands on your body. "Fuck, Tom—"

"Mm, you look good from this angle," he murmurs, and you fucking keen as you watch, in your mind, his hands slide over your stomach, pushing up your shirt and exposing your tits, groping as he fucks you. You keen as you feel it. "You love this, don't you? You want this."

"I—" you gasp, trying to convince him, or yourself, or goddamn anyone. Still fighting some invisible battle between resistance and submission because you hate that he's right. "I—god, what are you doing to me—"

"What am I doing to you?" He whispers, and you're not sure if the question is rhetorical, or if he's giving you permission to ask it. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't letting me do."

Your knees feel like they're about to buckle, and it's taking all your strength just to stay standing because the pleasure playing out in your mind is pouring into your veins and you can't even fathom how it's possible but you can't do anything to fight it—

"Oh, god—" you moan, unbridled, your physical body slumping back onto the desk as you feel the slick between your thighs, growing with every goddamn thrust. "Oh my god—"

He takes the opportunity of you slumped back against the desk and instantly leans down, bringing his lips to your ear—

"Not even god could keep your legs underneath you." His hand creeps up your thigh. "You're helpless."

"Helpless," you repeat, with a shaky gasp, and you hate how much the word turns you on. This is the first time you've ever been called helpless, and you're not even sure that you care. He's got you in his clutches, he's winning, and it's so infuriating and so goddamn perfect. “Tom—please, please touch me. I need to—fuck—"

You feel his lips brush the skin of your neck in a way that has you trembling with want, but—fucking hell, that's not what you need—you need his hands on you, you need him to just—

"What do you need?" He cooes, and there's a sly tone to his voice that makes you want to throw yourself at him all over again. "You need to cum?"

You moan, low and needy, writhing against the desk because this fucker—he knows exactly what he's doing. He’s got the upper hand here and you want it back. You want—

"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "I need you to—I fucking need you—inside me—"

As soon as that leaves your mouth, the dream fades from your vision and he's urging you to lay back. There's a soft thud as he places a hand on the desk next to your head, and he leans down, bringing his lips back to your ear, and you can't remember a time when you've ever wanted anyone else this bad.

"I'm touched," he murmurs, fingers slipping to the waist band of your pyjama pants, "that you want me that bad."

"I hate you," you manage to gasp out, but that's a lie, and you think he knows it. His fingers on your skin as he pulls your pants down make you ache for him, and you're struggling to not make another sound that will give him ammunition. "Why do you have to—"

"Why do I have to what?" He asks, and you know he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. "Tease you? Make you helpless?"

Your pants get hardly half way down your thighs before he decides it's enough and slides a finger through your soaked slit, and you can't hold back the moan that tears itself from your throat.

"Fuck, you're soaked.” He hisses through his teeth. “You've been sitting in your dorm for days, hm? Dreaming of me touching you, wishing you could touch yourself without thinking of me—do you want to cum, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you gasp out, and you're not above begging at this point. "Yes, god, please—I want to fucking cum—"

"There we go," he cooes, and he's enjoying this more than you'd like to acknowledge. "You know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"

"I'd say at least a week," you throw back, in a vain attempt to keep a shred of your dignity, but that's hard when he's circling his fingers around your clit and your body is jerking against the desk beneath you. God you really are helpless. "Because that's how long you've been plaguing my head, giving me wet dreams like some goddamn incubus—"

He chuckles at that, and you hate him a little less when he slips two fingers inside you, "You think I'm a demon?"

"You certainly act like one," you choke out, because he's crooking his fingers and your mind is going fuzzy and he's not going to let you get the upper hand back, even for a second. "Fuck—oh, yes, yes, yes."

"You've got me all wrong," he says, with a smile that would be boyish if it wasn't so sinister. "Demons come to punish you. I'm here helping you get that relief you've been needing so badly."

"Just want t-to help me," you moan as his long fingers work you open, thumb brushing your clit, "out of the kindness of your heart—"

"Out of the kindness of my heart,” he repeats, with a mocking tone, and it's the way he murmurs those words that's making your thighs clench around him until he grabs the fabric of your pjs bunched around them and pushes your legs up to your chest, working his fingers impossibly deeper. "Out of the goodness of my soul—it's what I do, darling, I'm known for my benevolence—"

"You're a good man," you know he can tell you're being sarcastic, but his fingers are filling you so fucking full you're nowhere near ready to start a fight again when you're this close to losing your goddamn mind on his desk. "You're such a good man, Tom—“

"Mhm," his breath tickles your ear. "What else am I?"

"So good with your fingers," you're moaning, and he's going to get a bigger ego than he already has. You're too far gone to care. "God, you're so good, I'm going to—"

"Yes, you are," he answers, and it takes you a second to realize that he's not correcting your words anymore. He's simply telling you that you are, in fact, about to fall apart for him. "Give it to me. You've earned it."

You almost want to snap back at him, you almost try to, but you're so far gone the words don't form on your tongue and you're not sure you'd be able to fight the fire pooling in your stomach.

"Oh, fuck—“

He doesn't even let you finish that, he just dips his hips down, bringing his hand that's not buried in your slick up to cover your mouth, muffling those strangled screams before they spill out and echo down the hall—

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. "Be a good girl. Let it all out for me."

And it's that; that stupid combination of cooing warmth and the phrase 'be a good girl' that sends you over the edge, and you're muffling your gasps and moans and screams against his palm because gods, what would happen if someone heard you? What would happen if people realized what Tom Riddle was doing to you—your house rival, your sworn enemy—

"There we go," you're falling apart and he's watching you as if he owns you, as if this is where you belong—writhing beneath him, release squirting out around his fingers. "Ride it out for me. Such a good girl, you needed this so bad, I can tell you were aching for this."

You're struggling to say anything back, the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan of his name, and you've always known how bad he was, heard from other girls how good he could be with his hands, but this—you've never had this, never been this before.

"Such a fucking mess," he's murmuring, his voice low and rough and so goddamn beautiful. “How'd that feel? Hm?"

"So—so good," it feels like the words are being forced out of your throat, and you're struggling to think with enough clarity to form anything that's not an embarrassing moan of how much you needed this. "Needed it, need more, I—"

"More?" He murmurs as he slips his fingers free, and he's bringing his other hand up to your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he brings his soaked fingers to your lips. "Greedy girl."

You're not thinking about the implication of him calling you that, you're not thinking about how you should fight back, you're not thinking about how much you hate him—you’re just thinking about the sinful taste of you on his fingers, when they press against your tongue. Without a second of hesitation you suck them clean, tasting yourself, and it's obscene. You're obscene. But you don't care, it just makes that ache in you grow worse—you need more, you need him.

Dear god, what happened to you.

“So good," he murmurs, the praise dripping like honey from his tongue. You hum and he exhales. "I'll find you tomorrow."

"You'll find me tomorrow?" You repeat, as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and you're struggling for air, your chest heaving beneath your rumpled shirt. "What are you going to do, come into my room?"

"I'll come into much more than your room," he says, with a laugh that dances with promises of sin. "Now go. Before someone finds you here."

You push yourself up on trembling arms, pulling your pants up your thighs, your heart hammering in your chest because—god, that was incredible, you want more of it, and you can hardly even believe it happened. With a breath, you force yourself to move.

You look back at him as you get to the door. Your legs are shaking and you're not going to hold it against yourself for needing the wall to support you as his eyes rake over you, the corners of those lips curled up his signature smirk, and you want to hit him so goddamn bad—but then he speaks, like he read your mind, and it snaps you out of it—

"No dreams tonight." He says. "Scouts honour."

"You're no boy scout," you throw back, and your voice is a little breathier than you'd like. "And this changes nothing."

He smiles, slow and languid and knowing. "Of course."

You want to roll your eyes at the condescension dripping off his tongue, but you're worried that if you stay here any longer the only words on your tongue will be 'do it again'.

"You just owe me." You say as you crack the door open.

"I owe you," he agrees, and you think that his smile is just a little too genuine—like he would give you anything you wanted, just for another taste of that. “I'm keeping score, darling. Sleep well."

You hate him for calling you that, you hate his stupid smile, you hate the way he knows he's got you.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’re going to make him pay.

"Good night," you mutter, and then you open the door and slip out into the hallway.

[loves0phelia]

hello! hope you’re okay after the ending, honestly I don’t think any of us are.

I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where it’s that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling it’s reader and she’s just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesn’t know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and it’s just really angsty but also cute.

thanks! I love your account btw!

In The Sea

Summery: the anon

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx

You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.

You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.

“So what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?” Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.

“Quick little weekend trip?” She added to her previous sentence.

“What about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?” You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.

“Sarah, you're his family, how do deal with him” John B said, finding no other options.

“I don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..” she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.

“We- we just have to talk to him, or at least try” You proposed earning a frown from JJ.

“Talk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?” 

“Talking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,” John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.

“Why not? What did I do?” He asked, getting almost frustrated.

“We all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing trouble” His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.

“Hey,” You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.

“All right let's talk” Rafe chuckles, and it’s low, almost a whisper. 

Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.

“You guys be cool I'll be cool” His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.

“So now you want peace?” Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“I just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?” He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,

“Listen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groff” He’s breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,

“Hey, Rafe!” Before anyone can react, JJ’s fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafe’s jaw with a force that echoes.

Rafe’s head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.

“holy shit”

“Jesus JJ what's your problem”

“Whoo that felt good” Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.

JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What is wrong with you?” You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw.   “If he didn't do it I was going to do it” Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.

After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his “peacemaker” you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.

You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.

“I brought you food..” You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.

“great” he sighed.

“I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussion” 

“Right… are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or something” He scoffed again clearly angered,

“They don't trust you Rafe… but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bit”

“I am doing the right thing! I helped you” He tried pulling against the restraints but failed. 

“I know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorry” you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. “Please eat,” You said and left closing the large door behind you.

For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. “Y/N come back!” he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. “Fucking untie me please!!” he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.

Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.

John B is right beside him, laughing. “We've got our dinner!" he laughs.

“Guys, this one’s huge!” Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.

You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.

Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.

You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.

Has you were about to close the door you hear him.

“Wait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the fork” his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him. 

You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldn’t reach.

“Thank you” He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.

The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.

“That's not good,” John B says.

“We're gonna have to try to blast through it,” Pope says, not finding any better options.

“Why can't we go south?” Kie asks genuinely.

“The current is gonna be against us we don't have a choice” John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max. 

The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.

Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Hold on to something” Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.

“Hey!” a distant voice echoes through the walls.

“Cut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!” Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.

“Get me out of here!” Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.

“We have to let him out” You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.

“No!” she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.

“He's gonna drown” You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.

The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him.  

You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.

“Cut me loose” he begs.

Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.

“Shit,” You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.

“There! Come on” you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.

You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,

“Something is wrong I have to go see!” 

“No!” Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.

You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.

This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.

The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.

Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. “Y/N!” he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.

“Where is she!” Sarah came rushing to her brother

“She fell overboard” he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. He’s soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but there’s no hesitation as he jumps in after you.

“Rafe no!” She screams after her brother.

A wave slams into Rafe. “Y/N!!” he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.

With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.

“I got you” But you don't hear him in the storm.

You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.

“Hey, open your eyes, look at me” You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.

“That's it” The hands rub your back in a comforting way.

The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.

“Hey you okay?” panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.

“You jumped after me,” you whispered.

“Of course I did”  You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeper—something that’s been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful. 

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafe’s surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.

The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch. 

Rafe’s fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafe’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You saved my life” you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. “I love you, I've always loved you” you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Send request xxx

[citruslullabies]

Curly Mouthwashing headcannons

Romantic

Pre-crash Curly:

He is just so sweet

Curly is a very nice guy, but with you it's just deadly how nice he is

He's not one for PDA. Captain and all, gotta keep a professional look, y'know?

But whenever you two are alone, I like to think he likes to have his arms loosely wrapped around your hips and his head resting on your stomach

His favorite places to rest his head are on your stomach and chest

Yes ladies, gentlemen, and lades, he doesn't mind those weird noises everyone's stomach makes. And he doesn't mind hearing your heartbeat hammer out of your chest

But I imagine that Curly has a big thing for smells

The captain woke up with a groan, sighing and taking his first conscious breath of the day. His senses are flooded with the smell of you all around him, making his brain numb as he smiled and leaned further into you to drown in the smell.

Smell like vanilla and this can will literally die

He seems like he loves smells like vanilla and lemon

But he loves the way you practically swallow him while with your eyes

The way you look at him with such love and adoration, and not just because he's the captain

It makes him swoon every time

Fantasizes about marrying you and starting a family, but wouldn't push for it first. He wants to wait for you to be ready

You're his sweetheart and he loves you so much

Post-crash curly:

He wishes you didn't have to see him like this.

He feels like the shell of who he once was

Not the strong captain you loved, but rather a failure who can't do anything to help anyone. Not even himself.

Whenever you come and spend time with him, his eye looks to you in yearning

He yearns to hold you like he once did. Yearns to talk to you like he once did

He wants nothing more than to call you beautiful and compliment the same outfit you wear every day

He wants to lay against your stomach or your chest

The only sense of familiarity in your dynamic is your scent flooding his senses and your eyes.

How can you still look at him that way??

How could you see a man and not a monster?

He was partially to blame for this, after all. He failed everyone and was paying the consequences.

But you looked at him with such love..

It killed him when he saw you at that table.

Platonic

Pre-crash Curly:

Kind smiles and fist bumps all day long

He offers help whenever he can, wanting to make sure you were comfortable. You were friends after all and his responsibility

You got a problem? Hes there to listen

He just.. can't do anything about it

He doesn't have much of a backbone, and you learn that quick.

You two grew close. Maybe even closer than him and Jimmy were

But after what happened with Anya..

You couldn't even look at him anymore due to his negligence

Looking at him made you sick. He was a good friend but a horrible captain

"look, I just- I don't know what you expect me to do about this." He says with a tired sigh, exhausted from the work of a captain and the never ending piling issues. He watched as your eyes narrowed in his direction as if he was as awful as Jimmy, but before he could speak, you walked off with a scoff.

Post-crash curly:

He feels humiliated, same as with romantic

But your eyes don't feel welcoming.

He feels nothing but pity but a sense of the feeling that he deserved this in your eyes

Every time you see him, you're quiet

He wishes he could talk to break the ice

He always was the ice breaker.. but not anymore. Not unless you counted the noises of choking and gargling on your own blood and vomit.

But he always felt a sense of emptiness when you finally left

He failed you. And he failed everybody else.

He just hoped you would forgive him

And that this wouldn't hurt

Thanks for reading!!

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 6 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 5.3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! this chapter contains brief mentions of blood and minor injuries

It was like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t stop hurting you.

You were only under for a second, maybe less, your lifejacket doing its job, and yet somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let you drown. 

There wasn’t much logic to it. It wasn’t as though he had emptied the jet ski of all its gas, or that he somehow had control over the weather. 

Technically, none of this was his fault, yet he felt the guilt burn in his chest like he’d swallowed hot coals.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The second your head emerged, you let out a scream, the salt water in your fresh cut sending hot sparks of pain up your leg.

“Fuck, ow!” You cried, reaching for the jet ski with shaky hands, in so much pain you couldn’t even find it.

“Ohhh baby, are you okay?” Rafe grabbed your hand, squeezing tight as he pulled you towards him in the water, his other arm tethering you both to the jet ski.

“I think I’m bleeding,” you clung to his shoulder, your fingers digging in probably too tight, but the pain was so overwhelming you needed to put it somewhere. He didn’t mind, desperate to take it away however he could.

“Here climb up,” he said, grabbing your waist and boosting you. “The water can’t be helping.”

“Shit,” you both said in unison when you finally got onto the jet ski and revealed the cut on your calf, wider than you thought and bleeding angrily.

“Just hold on, I got you,” he assured, beginning to kick rapidly to start moving the jet ski toward the shore. 

You were scared the whole time, never once taking your eyes off of him. Asking him over and over again if he was okay until you were sure he was sick of it. But not once was there even a hint of agitation in his voice as he promised you he was fine, that you were almost there, that everything was gonna be okay.

His words didn’t do much to convince you, your face flooding with worry when you noticed his breaths getting more strained.

“I’m okay,” he swore to you, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “We’re almost there.”

It was starting to rain and the thunder was growing louder, there was no argument to be made that you could keep floating safely in the ocean. You resigned to let him keep going, but your eyes never left him, as if it was your appreciation keeping him afloat instead of his lifejacket.

“Thank you,” you said for the fifteenth time.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling with the motion, the expression entirely too joyful for the grim situation you found yourselves in.

“What?” You scoffed, poking his hand with your toe playfully.

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” he explained.

The drizzling rain was chilly, but your body was on fire. You opened your mouth to reply, despite the utter lack of words in your mind, but the sight of your sister appearing in the distance pulled your attention away.

The group that gathered at the dock’s edge was not the happy-go-lucky bunch of friends you’d arrived with a few hours ago.

The dock was only a few yards away now, you were close enough to see Carter slumped on the ground, Topper’s arms around her, pulling her into a comforting hug. As Rafe swam you closer, it became more apparent that she was crying. 

“There she is!” Tom shouted, motioning to you.

Carter stood quickly, nearly knocking Topper over, waving her arms in the air frantically like she was trying to land a plane. You waved back, heart aching at the sight of her red, puffy eyes. 

“We’re okay!” You yelled through the rain, trying to ease her worry as the jet ski approached. 

You looked down at Rafe who could hear the commotion but not see it.

“We’re almost there, they’re all waiting for us,” you filled him in.

As the front of the jet ski neared the group, Topper leaned over the side of the dock to pull you the rest of the way in. 

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, where have you been, are you crazy?!” Carter paced the dock, a wild look in her eyes as she scolded you.

“I’m fine!” You assured her. “We just ran out of gas.”

“We?” She questioned, hands on her hips.

Once Topper had secured the jet ski to the dock, Rafe swam around to the side, revealing himself to the group.

“What the hell? Where’s Kelce?” Carter questioned.

You knew she must really be upset. When she went into worried-mom-mode, her already limited inclination for politeness went completely out the window.

“Can someone help him up please?” You corrected her. “And get him a blanket or something?”

“I’ve got a couple in my trunk!” Topper said, before running to the marina parking lot.

“I’m fine,” Rafe calmed you with a soft smile as he lifted himself onto the back of the jet ski.

Before he could climb onto the dock, fully planning to help you up next, Tom reached out his hand to you.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked. You could feel Rafe’s posture stiffen next to you.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You accepted his hand, only due to the fact that you actually did need help with the big step off the jet ski.

The moment your feet were steady on the dock, you pulled your hand from his and turned back to make sure Rafe made it onto solid ground. When he did, you made your way to Carter’s side, pulling her into a hug.

“I thought something happened…” she mumbled into your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you soothed her. “Rafe saved me.”

She pulled back from you, sniffling as she eyed him over your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she told him quietly.

“I didn’t do a great job,” he said shakily, looking down at your leg. “You’re still bleeding.”

“You’re bleeding?!” Carter turned you around, inspecting you for injury.

You laughed as she spun you frantically, “it’s just a little cut on my leg.”

She leaned down to inspect it further, eyebrows knit with concern. “I told Topper we should’ve called 911.”

You placed both hands on her shoulders, “Car, I’m fine. It’s just a scrape, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. I’m sorry we scared you, though.”

“You did,” she pouted.

Topper came running back, huffing from his hurry. 

“I could only find one,” he extended the blanket in his hands to Rafe, who obviously needed it more.

Rafe took the blanket from him and opened it up quickly, but instead of dragging it over his own shoulders, he wrapped it around you.

“You should take it,” you tried to stop him.

“Nah,” he waved you off, running his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “We need to get you dry before Carter calls the Coast Guard.”

For a full ten seconds, your group stood in the rain, everyone’s eyes on someone else, the tension in the air telling an entire story to some invisible audience.

Carter looked at you, concern wrinkling her forehead as she wondered what really happened after she went to bed last night. 

Topper looked at Carter, wondering if her investment in your love life meant she’d forgotten all about the intimate hug they’d shared on the dock waiting for you to return.

Tom looked at Rafe, wondering if it was this joker’s fault you’d rejected him the night before and feeling the hot flame of competition ignite in his chest.

Sabrina looked at Tom, wondering when boys had started looking at you like that and how to get him to look at her instead.

Rafe looked down at you, and you looked up at him, both wondering if the other was thinking the same thing: there’s so much more to say.

“Ahem,” the jet ski owner cleared his throat, pulling you all from your thoughts. “Need the keys back if you don’t mind.”

Carter handed him the first two keys, and Rafe fumbled in his pocket for yours.

“You should really be checking the gas tank before you just send people out there,” Rafe snapped at him, tossing him the key. “You sent her out with an empty tank, she could’ve been seriously screwed, man. No way to run a business.”

“Maybe you should teach your girl how to drive so she doesn’t drain the tank,” the guy snapped back. “Not my fault she’s a ditz.”

Rafe stepped toward him in one long stride, chest puffed out and tension brewing in his flexed jaw that ran all the way down his neck.

“The fuck did you just say?” Rafe grabbed him by his collar, pulling the guy up towards him as he glared at him. 

You looked helplessly to Topper, who hurried to pull Rafe’s hand off the guy’s shirt. Topper was an expert at intervening before Rafe did things he couldn’t undo, and you were grateful he was here. Still, there was a small part of you that selfishly wanted to know what he’d do next, how far he’d go to defend your honor.

“Okay, okay,” Topper said. “Let’s just go, bro. It’s over.”

Rafe fought against Topper’s pull for a moment, staring daggers at the jet ski guy, who was chuckling smugly. When the guy’s eyes darted to you, he pulled his arm from Topper’s grip and made to move towards him again.

“Rafe,” you said softly.

His head turned to you, and the tension in his shoulders loosened. You shook your head ever so slightly, eyes urging him to back down. He nodded once and his hands, which had been balled into fists, flexed open as he let his anger go.

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As soon as you made it back to the house, you peeled your wet bathing suit off and climbed in the shower, eager to get your weary body into the warm water and let the sea wash down the drain. Carter had announced plans on the car ride back from the marina to go out to some clubs this evening, and you were far from dance floor ready.

For just a moment, the hot water felt incredible, until it made its way to your cut. You yelped and stepped out of the hot stream quickly. 

Typically, you would’ve thought responsibly enough to cover the cut before getting in the shower, but your mind was too foggy with thoughts of Rafe. You pulled on some clothes and padded down the hall to Carter’s room.

The knock on the door sparked a flurry of commotion behind it. Hushed voices echoed from under the door frame.

“Just a second!” Carter shouted to you, voice muffled.

“Oof!” A deeper voice said, the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.

Your lips twisted in a knowing smile. You didn’t need the door to swing open to know who you were hearing in the room. Carter and Topper were clearly tangled up in something before you interrupted.

Confirming your suspicion, the door swung open and Topper stood in front of you, his shirt on backwards from being pulled on in a hurry.

“Do I have the wrong room?” You smirked.

“I was just, uh, helping Carter with something,” he fumbled to explain.

“Oh? What were you helping her with?” 

“Her bed is, uh, broken.” 

You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to call over his shoulder and into the room, “just wanted to see if you have any Band-Aids?” 

“No,” she responded from somewhere under the mess of blankets on her bed. “But I can come help you find some.”

“Oh no,” you said. “You stay here and work on that…broken bed.”

Topper gave you a thankful smile and you winked at him.

“Make good choices!” You called, turning from the door.

“Too late!” Carter sang back.

You checked a few of the other bathrooms before wandering to the kitchen. One hand on the counter, and the other reaching as high as it could, you tried to boost yourself up. The flex of your calf as you jumped stretched the skin around your cut, making you wince. 

“Fuck,” you grumbled to yourself. “Let’s get jet skis they said, it’ll be fun they said…”

You tried to jump again, reaching for the high cabinet, the only one in the kitchen you hadn’t checked yet. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a first aid kit around here somewhere. You jumped again, the effort still fruitless.

“Need some help?”

You turned fast, startled by the revelation that you weren’t actually alone.

Rafe was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister with his arms crossed. His hair was damp, clearly just out of the shower himself. You weren’t looking at his hair, though.

He was covered only by a pair of checkered boxers and the towel flung carelessly over his shoulder. His torso was long and rigid, more defined than you had first noticed on the beach the other day. The hard ridges of his abs cast shadows on the plane of his stomach, your eyes danced over them, down to the deep V that disappeared below his waistband.

“What are you looking for?” His words were casual, as if he didn’t notice you staring, but the crooked grin etched on his face told a different story.

“Band-Aids,” you told him, your voice so feeble it did nothing but further reveal your captivation with the sight of him.

The smirk and all its playfulness fell from his face as his eyes filled with concern. 

“Are you still bleeding?” 

“No, I just need to cover it so I can shower. I’m thinking I should probably get the seaweed out of my hair if we’re going out.”

“Y’know if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I’d stay back with you,” he offered.

Your eyes fell from his, shuffling your feet uncomfortably, he stumbled over his words to reassure you, “we don’t have to, like, hang out. Just if you’re tired and you’d rather stay in and read or something that’s cool. I would stay down here.”

“You don’t want to hang out with me?” You raised your eyebrows in mock offense.

You were messing with him now, you probably shouldn’t be, but watching him run circles around himself to say the right thing was too fun.

“That’s not what I- I just,” he stuttered. “Here, can you just let me help you?”

He was across the room quick, your bodies close enough to touch for the first time since the dock. He smelled like soap, and something else undefinable and sweetly nostalgic. He reached up, his long frame barely needing to stretch to reach the cabinet above you.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any in here,” he informed you, tall enough to see what you couldn’t. 

“You sure?” You didn’t know why you were questioning him, your flustered state made you defensive.

“You’re welcome to keep jumping to try and see for yourself,” he stepped back to give you space to try again. “You were so close.”

“Don’t be mean,” you smiled.

“I’m serious! It was very cute,” he dropped casually.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. Despite all his genuine actions today, you couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his intentions.

”What?” He questioned, sensing your hesitancy. 

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that today,” you pointed out, “It’s just kinda weird hearing you say it.”

“I mean it’s not like I’ve never called you cute before,” he reasoned.

“You haven’t,” you said definitively.

“I’m sure-“

“You haven’t. I would remember, believe me.”

You crossed your arms, hands cradling your elbows, feeling like a raw nerve. Rafe took a cautious step toward you, ducking his head slightly to draw your eyes to his, making sure you were listening when he said,

“Just because I didn’t say it doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

You instinctually stepped back, his words a little too close to a confession for your comfort. When you pulled away, the back of your leg hit the kitchen counter, making you flinch at the pain of your cut rubbing against the wood.

“I have some waterproof band aids in my room,” he mumbled, his low voice making you wonder for just a second if he really did have them or if this was just a sly way to get you to his room. Sensing your doubt, he doubled down with, “no, honest, I brought a whole first aid kit.”

Convinced, you followed him down the stairs to his basement bedroom. His bed was still pulled away from the wall, but it had seemingly dried. His belongings were strewn about, his book bag unzipped and overflowing with books and papers. You clocked the curious sight, but stayed silent, preoccupied by your sudden aloneness and his half-naked body.

Rafe dug through his suitcase for a moment until, sure enough, he pulled out a bright orange case with a little red cross on the front. You couldn’t help your smile.

“In your boy scout era?” You teased him.

“I’ve been on enough trips with Topper and Kelce to know you should always be prepared for the worst,” he chuckled.

“Ah, little did you know, I was gonna be the worst you needed to prepare for.”

“You? No, you’re the best part of this trip.”

Your throat tightened.

“Oh, really? It’s not your dungeon bedroom?” You pivoted.

“Yeah, I should probably get used to that mildew smell,” Rafe scoffed. “Gonna be living in my parents basement if I don’t pass this summer class.”

He motioned to his backpack, the mystery finally solved. He’d been doing school work down here. Summer classes, surely the answer to his not-graduating problem.

“What are you taking?” You inquired.

“Statistics. I need one more math credit and I just can’t…” he shook his head with self-loathing. “I mean, you know better than anyone. I’ve never been good at math.”

“I don’t think your problem was so much that you weren’t good,” you reasoned. “I think it was more about not applying yourself.”

“Well I’m applying myself now and I still feel like the textbook’s written in another language, so what does that mean?”

“Maybe that you just need some help,” you shrugged.

You could tell he was struggling with himself, and you were overcome with the desire to ease his worry. There are worse things a man can be than bad at math. But with Rafe, things were always all-or-nothing. One flaw meant the whole batch must be bad. 

You felt the urge to jump into tutor-mode and do the hard work for him, but you knew once you crossed that bridge into such familiar territory, there’d be no going back.

Rafe didn’t seem to share your concerns about repeating the past.

“Help from you?”

The way he leaned in when he said it would be almost imperceptible to anyone else, but you’d studied him long enough to notice even the slightest movement. You could feel the air between you tighten, like a rubber band stretching as far as it could go. You broke eye contact before it had the chance to snap.

“Or, like a tutor?” You suggested, reaching for the first aid kit in his hands. “Do they have those at Chapel Hill?”

“They do,” he stepped closer anyway, hand brushing yours as he handed it to you. “But I’d rather have you.”

You cleared your throat, ignoring his attempt to flirt. You decided not to go down this road with him, afraid it would lead to another dead end. 

He watched you dig through the kit for an appropriately sized Band-Aid, fighting the urge to ask if he’d said something wrong. Before he could, you leaned down and attempted to line up the adhesive with your cut, struggling to twist and reach the back of your leg.

“Here, let me.”

Fingers brushing yours, he took the Band-Aid and kneeled down in front of you, one leg under him, one propped up. His hand found your ankle and he guided your leg up so your foot rested on his knee. 

Clouds of foggy attraction swirled in your eyes as you looked down at him. He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on unwrapping the Band-Aid. You zeroed in on his fingers, long and slender, leading to vein rippled hands that worked diligently to ease your pain. It was enough to knock someone over, but you weren’t going anywhere with his strong thigh holding you up. 

“Since when are you such a gentleman?” You quipped, your decision not to flirt with him thrown out the window at the sight of him on his knees in front of you.

He smiled that satisfied, crooked grin as he gently placed the Band-Aid over your healing cut, “I’m trying.”

He brushed over the edge of the Band-Aid, smoothing it into place with a firm swipe of his thumb. You dreaded the moment he would stand again. As if he could read your mind, he delayed it, his hand lingering on your calf. 

Completely breathless, you watched him consider his next move. For a moment, you thought he was going to let his hand continue to run up your leg, but he stopped himself, bringing it back to your ankle and returning your foot to the ground.

When he stood and looked down at you, he was surprised by the pout of your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “You just looked so cute down there.”

Rafe rolled his eyes playfully.

“Thought you didn’t like that word.”

“I don’t remember saying that,” you countered.

“You just don’t like it when I call you cute, then?” 

There it was again, evidence of his genuine desire to understand you. The rubber band tightened again, but this time, it was in your stomach, his sincerity drawing you to him helplessly.

“There’s just so many better things you could call me,” you flirted.

“Yeah?” Excitement coursed through you at his breathy tone. “Like what?”

“My name would be a good start.”

Voice still low, so deep you could feel it more than hear it, he uttered your name. It rolled off his tongue, smooth like honey dripping from his parted lips. The syllables came out with the faintest breath, brushing over your face as the sound swept over you.

Lip tucked between your teeth, you looked at his mouth, as though you could will more soothing sounds to fall from it. As you stared, his lips got closer to you, close enough to touch yours-

“Yo Rafe!”

The sound of Topper’s voice from the top of the stairs startled you so much, you knocked into his bedside table.

“What?” Rafe barked in the direction of Topper’s voice, his harsh, irritated tone in such stark contrast with the sweet way he’d just spoken to you.

“Just letting you know we’re leaving in like an hour,” Topper said.

“Okay?” Rafe snipped.

Topper grumbled something along the lines of “so fucking testy today” as he closed the door, none the wiser to your presence in the basement.

Rafe turned to you, eyes searching your face for a sign he could recover the moment that was so abruptly interrupted. You didn’t meet his eyes. A nervous, pink blush kissed the tips of your cheeks and washed down your chest. The thought of Topper seeing what you were almost doing brought you crashing back to reality. Twice today you had almost let him kiss you, the steel backbone you’d come into this trip with feeling more like glass with every second you spent with him.

“I should probably go start getting ready then,” you said, making your way toward the stairs.

“Right, yeah,” he agreed, defeated.

“Thanks for the Band-Aid.”

“Anytime,” he said. “Anything.”

He stood at the bottom of the stairs as you climbed them. When you reached the door, you opened it just a crack, peeking out of it with paranoid eyes, making sure no one saw you sneak out of his room.

Regret hit him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t even be mad that you were so desperate not to be seen in close quarters with him, because it was exactly the look he’d have on his face when he used to climb out of your car in the school parking lot.

This must be how you felt. He wished for a time machine so he could knock out his teenage self the way he almost knocked out the guy on the dock today. Anyone who made you feel as shitty as he did right now deserved it.

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Finally able to take a painless shower, you took your time under the hot stream of water. Carter sat on the bathroom floor, knees drawn to her chest as you recapped the crazy day.

“I literally thought you might be dead,” she explained.

“How long were we even gone? Half an hour?” You laughed lovingly at her dramatics.

“Are you serious?” 

“What, was it more?” You thought over the time you’d spent with Rafe on the water, in your mind it had flown by fast. Too fast. 

“We got back to the dock a full two hours before you showed up on your Rafe-drawn carriage,” she informed you.

You laughed heartily at the image, your cheeks tinting pink, though you told yourself the flush was just from the hot water.

“What did you guys do out there for two hours anyway?” She asked, not a fan of how silent you’d gone at the mention of Rafe’s name. 

“We just talked,” you said. 

It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an incomplete truth.

“About?” She pried.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “just, like, life and stuff.”

She snorted skeptically.

“What?”

“I just can’t picture Rafe Cameron having any kind of deep thoughts about life is all,” she explained.

“Well, he’s different now, I guess,” you said feebly.

“Is he though?”

That silenced you. She had a fair point, you had only been talking to Rafe again for a few days, and most of that time was spent with him asking questions about you. You didn’t know him at all really, at least not as well as you used to, not enough to make judgment calls on his character.

Yet there was this instinct that had never really gone away. An invisible tether that connected you to him in a way you’d never experienced with anyone else. He was your sixth sense, you just knew him. You always had.

“I’m gonna go grab my makeup bag,” Carter exited the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

A few moments later, she reentered the room. You felt the words deep in your chest, and even though you knew she may not like them, you needed to let them out.

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Rafe meandered upstairs, looking for Topper’s room so he could borrow a shirt. He hadn’t really packed any going out outfits, picturing himself planted on the beach the whole week. The day he packed felt like a lifetime ago, he had no idea the rollercoaster this trip would turn into. 

Down the hall, the bathroom door was open a crack, steam pouring from it as someone showered. Surely, whoever was in there didn’t intend to leave it open. He made his way towards the door to close it, but stopped short when he heard your familiar voice coming from the shower. He knew he should close the door and walk away, but your words glued him in place.

“I have to be honest with you,” you said. “I know I should hate him, but I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever hate him.”

Rafe’s heart raced, an optimistic smile spreading across his face. He prayed that he was the ‘him’ you were referring to.

“The sad thing is, if he asked me to, I’d still give him anything he wanted,” you chuckled, surprised by your own words. “If he wanted me, I think I’d be with him.”

He’d never do it, but he seriously considered barging right into your shower and telling you “I want you, you have no idea how badly I want you.” 

But the fantasy was cut short.

“I think I’d hate myself the whole time, though,” you confessed quietly.

At that, he actually did close the door, heart sinking, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.

His whole life, people found it hard to love him. They may not say it to his face, but he picked up on more than people thought. He exhausted his family, his irresponsibility and impulsivity were a pain to them since he was a kid. He disappointed his father, he knew he wasn’t the heir to the Cameron throne Ward had hoped for. And he’d fumbled you completely, the best friend he ever had. 

Since then, everything he did was out of self-protection. He ghosted girls at school before they got the chance to reject him, he didn’t reply to texts from friends for fear of being ignored first. He picked fights and pushed people away, running from rejection like a monster in the dark.

But this week, for just a moment, he thought maybe he could finally stop running. He thought maybe he’d finally found something that was worth the risk. He had never felt so safe, so seen, as he did today when you were talking to him. 

Then your words shook him from his delusions. He could handle his family’s disappointment and his friends’ exasperation. But your resentment? Knowing that being with him made you hate yourself? He just could not afford it. He wouldn’t survive it.

Closing the bathroom door had a finality to it, the click of the handle a sign of a decision made. He would stop pursuing you. He’d get through this trip, graduate school, and finally move on. If not for his sake, for yours. He was bad for you. You knew it, Carter knew it, he knew it. For your sake and his, he decided to let you go.

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The Ubers arrived around nine. The boys were showered, dressed, and ready by 8:30, chilling on the couch watching baseball and drinking their pregame beers. Topper kept an eye on his phone, watching the little cars get closer to the house.

“Ride’s almost here and they’re really not ready,” Topper sighed.

“Did you really expect anything else?” Kelce threw back another beer.

“Wanna take it easy tonight, man?” Rafe recommended, no one needed a reminder of the damage Hurricane Kelce had caused the last time he was shitfaced.

“No, actually, I don’t,” Kelce laughed.

Rafe reached across the couch, Topper ducking out of the way of his swift arm as he snatched the beer from Kelce’s hand.

“I’m getting you some water,” Rafe said. “I’m not babysitting your drunk ass all night.”

Rafe stood over the kitchen sink, filling a glass for Kelce. The water rose over the cup’s edge and overflowed onto his hands, but he didn’t even notice. He was lost in thought, thinking about your cry after falling off the jet ski, your lip pulled between your teeth when he almost kissed you, your words in the shower…

“Thirsty?” He heard you say behind him. 

He turned to look at you, nearly dropping the glass.

Rafe was resolved. He couldn’t risk the sting of your rejection, and he couldn’t afford the price of your resentment. There would be no more chasing you, no moves made, no plays attempted. It was settled, he was done.

Then he saw you in that fucking dress. 

(Chapter 6: part two)

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a/n: oops another two part chapter cause the word count got away from me againnnn :) will try my best to post pt 2 this weekend!

and if I wrote a bonus blurb about what happened in Carter’s bedroom what then? A smutty little Carrot Top side quest? How would we feel about that?

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[lilacgaby]

title: gala gone wrong?

pairing: prohero!bakugo x prohero!reader

katsuki was suddenly forced to confront his feelings for you, when you were put in the date auction for charity.

the heroes gala was something katsuki wouldn't look forward to normally. but this year he had a plan. he was going to ask you to be his date.

...originally. he chickened out last minute and owed kirishima 1000 dollars.

he was surprised to see you come alone though, opting to sit next to him which made him fist pump internally. you were a very successful hero who also doubled as a model. for what reason you ask?

none really, you just did it cause days off of hero work were boring. walking runways, topping charts, and beating villains with style was just another day for you.

you looked especially gorgeous this evening though, working with another up and coming designer to design a dress that perfectly complimented everything from your skin color, to you hair, to even references of your quirk.

katsuki suddenly felt underdressed in his suit, but to be fair every hero who was a man was dressed in a suit. except for monoma.

the auction portion of the gala started before the awards were to be given out.

the awards were pretty pointless in katsuki's mind. the only ones that mattered to him were the final rankings of popularity, efficiency, and the overall category.

"you nervous?" you whispered, talking over the first few lower ranked hero's to be auctioned for a date.

"nah, i know i won at least in popularity." he said, trying to keep eye contact with you without stuttering.

"hmm. what if i won? huh?"

"shut up."

she put a hand over her mouth, when suddenly-

"and the last date to be auctioned, a night with the top ranked woman hero [name]!"

"huh? oh that's me!" you said, collecting your dress as you walked to the stage, leaving katsuki blinking in confusion to himself.

you were in this? i mean it shouldn't have been a surprise, you had a rabidly loyal fan base, even since U-A. but what was he supposed to do? bid?

"the bid starts at.. 15,000 dollars." you rolled your eyes and gestured for people to go higher, and they did.

"17,000!"

"20,000!"

"30,000"

numbers were being shouted from all around the room, with the highest bids barely even being able to be tracked. the bids ranged from new heroes who definetly could not afford you, to old men who you really wish couldn't afford you.

you covered your mouth as you let a laugh escape you, this was hilarious to you, you'd have to do this more often.

after a bunch of back and forth, one booming voice cut all the others off.

"500,000 dollars. cash." to your surprise it wasn't an old creep. grand, also known as shindo yo, had suddenly bid. just as they were about to call off the auction and announce shindo the winner,

katsuki's internal dialogue won and 'forced' him to bid too. "750,000 dollars." he declared.

he doesn't think he'd have done it had it been any other idiot who wanted a chance with you, but that loser had to go.

"sold! to dynamite! we've broken a record here folks, 750,000 for the charity of --"

the words faded into the background as he looked up at you, smiling and walking over to him. he felt is heart speed up, his hands drown in sweat, his hair puff out.

"if you wanted to take me out you could've just asked katsuki." you joked, taking him by the hand as you pulled him back to the table towards the back you two were settled in on.

"whatever, now we have an excuse to."

"don't tell me you like me or something katsuki? how embarrassing."

"i told you shut it."

she laughed and settled down, poking him on the cheek. "its okay if you do, i like you quite a lot dynamite."

he flushed red at that, tiny explosions being let out from his hands inadvertently because of how caught off guard he was.

she held his hand under the table, before looking straight ahead to the ceremonies going on in front of them. he smiled and leaned back.

the awards were pretty boring when compared to the view of you, so until they had gotten to the cool stuff he just eyed you.. daydreaming about the life you'll have together someday.

he focused again when the top three heroes in popularity, efficiency, and overall were to be announced by all might.

at the end of the night, not only did he leave with a number one trophy with 'popular vote!' embedded in its side and an all-might signature at the bottom,

he also left with a lipstick mark from you right on his cheek, some flowers, and a small note that read 'see you tomorrow :)'.

[flowersforbucky]

oil & water

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5.8k

prompt - "If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so."

shout out to @ellemj for her encouragement with this ♡

warnings/tags: SMUT, vaginal penetration, oral sex (female receving), face sitting, mentions of violence, description of blood & wounds, no use of y/n, reader is afab, hurt/comfort trope, bickering & banter, friends to lovers, forced close proximity trope. 18 plus only!

“Roll your window up,” Bucky snaps at you as he turns down the music you had just put on moments ago. “The last thing we need is someone noticing the blood caked all over the entire right side of your body.” 

As if the lack of functioning AC in the twenty-something year old getaway car (an early 2000’s model Chevy Aveo is inconspicuous, according to Sam) wasn’t stifling enough in the south Georgia summer, the annoyance radiating from the brooding super soldier sitting next to you adds an extra ten degrees. 

Sure, Sam. Inconspicuous is the right word to describe a six foot, two hundred plus pound man with a metal arm cramped behind the driver’s seat of the equivalent to a clown car. Bright fucking cherry red and all. 

“It’s 103 degrees outside.” You glare at him from the passenger seat, where you’re using a tattered handkerchief found in the glove compartment to put pressure on the knife wound on your shoulder. “I’m going to have a heatstroke.” 

“You’re not going to have a heatstroke,” he rolls his eyes at you. “That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck.” 

“Ha-ha-ha,” you say under your breath, reluctantly rolling up the manual window with your still bleeding arm. “I got the fucking intel, did I not?” 

You remove the USB drive from its secure location in the cup of your bra and flash it at Bucky. “Though we’ll be lucky if this thing still works after being drowned in boob sweat, since you won’t let me keep the window rolled down.” 

“And nearly got yourself killed in the process.” He grabs the flashdrive from you and grimaces. “We’ll be at the safehouse in less than five minutes, if you can please just refrain from stroking out or bleeding out in the meantime.” 

You glance down at the once white handkerchief clutched in your hand. “I’m not making you any guarantees.” 

You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way, you resist adding. 

Jokes aside, the energy exerted in bringing down over a dozen HYDRA agents in combination with the July heat and the substantial blood loss from your shoulder wound has you feeling woozier by the minute. Factor in a few potentially fractured ribs and a dislocated knee and you're in pretty rough shape. 

As promised, just under five minutes later Bucky parks in front of a small trailer just outside the city limits of Valdosta. It's seen better days, but you don't mind as long as it has semi-functioning air conditioning. 

Bucky is opening your car door and offering you a hand up before you can take in your surroundings. You force yourself out of your seat, ignoring his outstretched hand and attempting to stand on your own, doing your best to ignore the borderline blinding pain radiating from your right knee. 

“Thanks, but I think I can–” 

Your vision goes fuzzy as you stumble forward, right into Bucky's chest. Your hand instinctively clutches the fabric of his shirt as you attempt to regain your balance.

“Let me guess. You're capable of stitching up your own shoulder, too?” 

He gently loops his arm around your waist, slowly walking the two of you to the front door of the trailer. You try to focus on keeping pressure on the gash on your shoulder and not the feeling of his toned body pressed against you. How does he smell so good after hand to hand combat and sitting in that sauna of a car? You're sure you probably smell like a wet diaper that's been left in the sun for–

Bucky opens the door and guides you inside. The interior of the safehouse is surprisingly homey and clean. It's still uncomfortably warm, but offers a nice reprieve from the violent mid-day sun. 

Bucky leads you into the small living space before maneuvering you out of his hold, where you all but collapse onto a suede sofa.

“I guess you do have some amount of good luck, after all,” you mumble, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“What are you talking about?” Bucky glances at you from over his shoulder as he flicks on the AC. 

“That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck,” you quote his sarcastic comment from the car ride. 

“Ha-ha-ha,” he fake laughs just as you did. He rummages through a few cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen before finding everything he’s searching for, then makes his way back to where you are on the couch. 

“Drink this.” He hands you a bottle of water that you hadn't even noticed him grab. For once you don't object to his instructions, uncapping the bottle and gulping down the contents as quickly as you can. 

“You're not having a heatstroke,” he assures you. “But you are going to have to let me stitch up this crater on your shoulder and pop your knee back into place.” 

You sit forward, removing the now fully soaked cloth that you've been holding to your shoulder for the last half hour. 

Bucky winces at the sight of it, handing you a dishrag before opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You might want to bite down on–” 

“I know the drill.” You sigh before putting the rag between your teeth. 

He hesitates for a moment before pouring the clear liquid over the wound. You groan against the rag, your eyes squint shut in pain. You've had your fair share of broken bones and black eyes working in this field, but you don't think you'll ever get used to the pain of getting stitches without the comforts of saline solution and anesthesia.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dabbing the cut dry with a paper towel. 

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “It's part of the job. I've come out of missions worse than this before,” you shrug, squeezing the dish rag he gave you until your knuckles go white as he makes the first incision. 

“Never because of me.” 

You glance at him, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. His gaze doesn't leave the thread and needle that he's using to close up the gash on your arm - his normally plump pout set into a hard line. 

“You know this isn't your fault, right?” You keep your eyes locked on him. “I saw that guy coming at you out of nowhere and I panicked. I wasn't watching my own back. That's my fault, not yours,” you say earnestly. 

“If you say so.” He glances up for a split second, giving you a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Is that why you've been such a grouch? You're blaming yourself for me not being careful enough?” 

“Maybe,” he admits quietly. “Or maybe I just hate seeing you covered in blood for any reason.” 

You freeze at the bluntness of his words. You and Bucky have been partners on more missions than you could count at this point - you know that he would have done the same for you if the situation had been reversed; in fact, there had been times where he had taken the brunt of the fight in order to protect you. 

All of those instances suddenly flash through your mind. 

The time he used himself as a human shield when there was a bomb set off during a recon mission at a warehouse in Tokyo. Or when he football tackled you out of the direct line of an incoming dagger during an operation in Portland. Not to mention the time he left a job all the way in Prague unfinished because he merely suspected you had a concussion. 

You had always chalked it up to “that’s what partners do,” but the pained expression on his face as he refuses to meet your eyes has you questioning if there could possibly be more to it. 

No. You’re his partner. He’d do the same for anyone else. He wouldn’t want to see anyone on his team covered in blood if he could prevent it. 

The two of you sit in a thick silence while he finishes stitching you up. 

“There,” he says at last, clipping the excess suture thread with scissors. “Not quite as good as your stitch work, but I think it’ll hold you together.” His voice isn’t as strained as it was moments ago, though you can't help but notice it sounds forced. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed the tiniest bit at his compliment. “Now for the really fun part,” you add, staring at your throbbing knee. 

“You’re in luck,” he says, perking up a bit. “I’ve popped my own knees back into place an embarrassing amount of times, so this should be a breeze.” He repositions himself to have better access to your leg, moving off the couch to perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You attempt to pull the tight fabric of your tactical pants up enough to give him unhindered access to your knee, but it’s too restrictive, immediately causing you to wince in pain. 

“Fuck,” you huff. “I’m going to have to take these off.” You pop the button at the top of your pants and begin to push them down your thighs before insecurity can get the better of you. You try not to think about the fact that Bucky's never seen you in such little clothing - pants now pushed down to your calves, only your underwear and the bra and thin tank top you wore underneath the tactical vest that you took off as soon as you were in the safety of the getaway car left to cover you. 

Hesitation flashes across Bucky’s face for a brief moment before he scoots over slightly, moving directly in front of you so that he can position his hands on either side of your kneecap. You’re painfully aware of the polar opposite feeling of his right and left hand - his flesh hand is warm and so much softer than you’d expect, his metal one icy and smooth. You aren’t sure which causes the visible goosebumps that now litter your skin.

Maybe it’s not his touch at all. Maybe it’s the way his eyes haven’t left your thighs since you exposed them.

Maybe it’s the fact that if you parted your legs just a few inches, he’d be nestled between them. 

Chill out, you berate yourself. He's just relocating your knee for Christ's sake. 

“On the count of three,” he starts and you brace yourself. “One, two–” 

“MOTHERFUCKER.” You yell out at the same moment your knee creates a loud cracking noise that echoes off the walls of the small trailer. “You said count of three!” 

“Would that really have made it less painful?” He shrugs, but doesn't move from where his knees brush against yours. “I think what you mean to say is “thank you, Bucky, you're a lifesaver and I'm now in your debt.” 

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” you scoff. “I'm going to wash all of this blood and sweat off of me.” You move to push yourself off of the couch, tugging your pants back up as you stand. You can feel his eyes trail up your body as you do, making you feel woozy all over again. You turn away from him, heading towards the hallway that the bathroom is likely located down. 

“I could have done that through your pants, by the way.” 

You freeze mid-step, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?” You snap at him. 

“Your knee,” he clarifies, a hint of undeniable mischief in his expression. “I could have popped your knee back into place through your pants. If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so.” 

Just when you thought the safehouse was starting to cool down, your entire body heats up a thousand degrees. You're racking your brain trying to think of a retort when Bucky's ringtone starts blaring from the kitchen countertop. He ignores it, his eyes not leaving yours for what feels like an eternity. 

You finally break the silence. “That's most likely Sam wanting to make sure we're not dead. Should probably answer it.” 

“Probably should,” he smirks, and at last gets up from the coffee table to answer the phone.

You scurry the rest of the way to the bathroom before he can look back at you again, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from your ribcage and the now dull ache that spreads from your knee. 

You turn the water to cold, and don't get out until you've started to shiver. 

— — — — — 

When you exit the bathroom and step back into the connected bedroom in only a towel, you see that Bucky has done you the kindness of bringing in the bags that had been stored in the backseat of the getaway car. 

You dig through your backpack, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and pair of leggings. From the next room, you can smell the aroma of whatever non-perishable food that Bucky has scrounged together. Despite your growing hunger pains, you take your sweet time combing through your freshly rinsed hair. The thought of looking Bucky in the eye after your last interaction nearly makes you lose your appetite. 

What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn't thinking at all, otherwise I wouldn't have just pushed my fucking pants down right in front of–

“Your five course dinner is getting cold.” Bucky raps his fingers against the bedroom door, startling you from your thoughts. 

“Be right there,” you call back to him, swiping some deodorant under your arms. You take a glance at yourself in the bedroom’s small vanity mirror and immediately wish that you hadn't – you're cleaner than you were by miles, at least no longer covered in your own blood as well as the blood of HYDRA agents – but your cheekbone is lightly bruised, there's a slit on your bottom lip, and the bags under your eyes make it look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a month. 

You take a deep breath and then walk back to the one room that makes up the kitchen, dining area and living room. 

“Beef or shrimp ramen?” Bucky asks as you climb onto one of the barstools on the opposite side of the counter from where he's standing. 

“Hm,” you contemplate, not meeting his stare and instead occupying yourself with another bottle of water that he's placed where you now sit. 

Fucker probably wouldn't fluster me so bad if he wasn't being so damn thoughtful.

“I'll go with shrimp,” you answer, remembering that beef is his favorite.

He slides the bowl across the counter and then hands you a fork. You finally get the nerve to look up and meet his stare that feels as if it weighs two tons. 

“So, what did Sam say?” You try to go for light conversation, twisting the fork around your noodles. “Are we free to get out of here once it's dark out?” 

“Not…quite,” he hesitates, now seeming particularly interested in his own food. “The car battery kind of died.” 

“What do you mean the car battery kind of died?” 

“While you were in the shower, I tried to move the car behind the house so that anyone driving by wouldn't immediately know that someone's here. It started fine, but as I was driving it around back it just.. stopped. Had to push it the rest of the way.” 

You let out a dramatic groan as he continues. 

“I called Sam again and he said the earliest they can send someone to get us is in the morning.” 

“Well,” you exhale, blowing a raspberry with your lips. “We can flip a coin to see who gets the bed?” You ask lightheartedly. This isn’t the first time that you and Bucky have had an overnight mission together, but it is the first overnight mission where the two of you haven’t had your own motel rooms or at least a safehouse with two beds.

He looks at you quizzically, furrowing his eyebrows. “You really think there’s a chance of me making you sleep on the couch? In your condition?” 

“My condition?” you laugh. “I’ve got a few stitches, I’m not dying of cancer.” 

“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way it’s uncomfortable for you to inhale and exhale? You’ve probably got a couple fractured ribs with the way you landed on that cement. If not fractured, then at least heavily bruised. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” 

Between his tone and the look on his face, you know it isn’t up for debate. You throw your hands up in faux surrender. 

“Serving me instant ramen and letting me take the king sized bed?” you say teasingly. “Keep it up and I'm going to think that you're soft on me.” 

His gaze on you is heavy as he takes a long sip of water from his own bottle. “Wouldn't that be a shame?” 

— — — — — 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you lounging in bed, resting your injuries and reading some cheesy western romance novel that you found in the drawer of the bedside table. 

Bucky keeps to the living room, where you hear a violent sounding movie playing from a TV that has to be as old as you are. 

You tell yourself that you're staying in the bedroom because you need to take it easy and relax, but truthfully you feel suffocated by the tension that has been escalating between you and Bucky since you arrived here. 

A certain level of tension had always been there, you knew deep down. From the first time the two of you met almost two years ago. 

Bucky had been formally introduced to the team just a few weeks prior, and it was his first official mission. An undercover mission - just the two of you. 

Posing as an engaged couple at a party thrown at the estate of a notorious crime boss in order to obtain intel. Pretty straight forward - it was far from your first undercover mission. And then it was sprung on you at the last minute that the man who you'd only met once, less than a month ago, was to be your fiancé for the evening. 

The bastard even went as far as to slip the fake engagement ring on your finger himself. 

“Natasha picked this out. She said it needed to be a princess cut, because that's what you like.” 

You chuckled as he went to slide the rock onto your ring finger. “What? You're not going to get down on one knee?” 

The mission went shockingly smooth, you and Bucky were in and out with the needed intel in just a few hours. But those few hours replayed in the back of your mind more often than you care to admit. 

The way his arm stayed wrapped securely around your shoulder or waist the entire hour that you mingled as guests. How he pulled you into a slow dance to discuss the plan for sneaking into the study on an off-limits floor. The musky smell of his aftershave and the spearmint on his breath. 

And especially the way he referred to you as his “bride” when introducing yourselves to people, on more than one occasion throughout the night. 

“And who is this absolutely beautiful young woman on your arm?” an elderly man with eye boogers and booze on his breath asks Bucky. 

“This is my bride,” Bucky introduces you, giving him your undercover name. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? Most beautiful woman here, if I do say so myself.” 

Saying that Bucky played his part well that night would have been an understatement. Saying that he played his part scarily well would be a more accurate assertion. 

After grabbing the intel and fleeing the scene, neither of you ever mentioned that mission again. Not the lingering touches, smoldering stares - not even the way he shoved you up against the wall of a corridor, cupped your face in his large hands, and kissed you senseless for half a minute when you came close to getting caught sneaking into the private office by security at the very end of the evening. 

“Do you think that was believable?” he asks nervously, his hands still clutching your face as he looks around the hallway for any lingering guards. 

“Ye-yeah,” you stutter breathily. “As believable as it possibly could be.” 

There’s a light knock on the partially open bedroom door that draws you back to the reality of the safehouse. You realize that you’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your book for the last half hour. 

"Yeah?” you answer, bringing yourself to a sitting position. 

Bucky peaks his head around the door, opening it further so that you can see what he is carrying. 

“I’m tired of watching old James Bond movies,” he sighs, glancing between you and the stack of board games in his arms. “I found these in the TV stand.” 

“I kicked your ass in Battleship last time we played,” you remind him. “Do you really want a rematch of that?” 

“How about we make a bet?”

— — — — — 

Half an hour later, you've eaten your own words, now owing Bucky a large meat lovers pizza from his favorite parlor in Brooklyn and two weeks worth of laundry duty when you return to the compound. 

“How'd you get so good?” you demand as he makes the winning attack. “You were so lame at this last time.” 

“Maybe I just let you win last time,” he shrugs with a shit-eating grin. 

You just shake your head in defeat, wincing as you stand up from where you had been playing on the shag area rug in the living room. 

“No,” you declare firmly. “No, I don't believe that. There's no way you'd willingly let me win anything. I've learned that the hard way during hand to hand combat training way too many times.”  

Bucky belly laughs from where he still sits on the floor, his gaze trailing after you. 

You walk over to where he has piled the board games on the coffee table, trying to find something you were confident you could win. 

Monopoly isn't fun with only two players, Risk takes too long — 

Your eyes lock onto a card game peeking out from underneath the Sorry! box. 

You pick it up, turning back to face him with a growing smile on your face.

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “I'm over a hundred years old–” 

“What does age have to do with truth or dare?!” You exclaim, sitting back down on the floor once more. 

“I haven't been roped into a game of truth or dare since the 1930's,” he groans. 

“Scared of what you might have to do?” You tease, unboxing the cards. “Or what you might have to admit?” 

He stares at you for a long moment, pursing his lips. The disapproval doesn't quite reach his eyes - you can tell by the way they gleam that he's going to cave. 

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits. He tousles his fingers through his hair and moves to cross his legs at the ankles. “Fine,” he relents. “One game.” 

You squeal like a kid in a candy store as you shuffle the deck of cards and lay them in a stack between you. 

“Elders first,” you motion to the pile. 

He rolls his eyes, drawing one from the top – dare. 

“Smell another player's armpit,” he deadpans. You're instantly thankful that you remembered to cram a stick of deodorant into your backpack when packing for the mission. 

“Well?” You lift up your arm. “I'm the only other player here and it's not going to sniff itself.” 

Bucky sighs, leaning across the game to put his nose directly next to the opening of your t-shirt sleeve. “Lavender,” he observes after inhaling, giving you an approving nod. “As far as dares go, I got lucky.” 

“Lucky that I showered earlier,” you mumble as you draw your turn, your cheeks warming slightly. 

Truth. 

“Who was your last kiss with and what was it like?” 

Your heart plummets to your stomach as you read the words aloud. Bucky waits impatiently as you fiddle with the piece of paper in your hands. 

“Might I remind you, you are the one who wanted to play this game so desp–” 

You hold up a finger and make a shushing sound, silencing him as he grins menacingly. 

“My last kiss was almost two years ago,” you answer honestly, looking back down at the card to avoid his stare. He can always tell when you're lying, why even try? 

“With a man I barely knew,” you continue. “We had to pretend to be in love for the evening. It was a shockingly easy thing to do. When he pushed me up against a wall and kissed me as a distraction to security guards, I had to remind myself that it was an act. We never spoke about it again. But now two years later, I'm telling him that I think of that kiss often.” 

When you finally look up, you can't decipher the look on his face. Long gone is the mischievous grin from just moments ago, in its place is.. shock? Perplexity? 

“And why exactly have you not kissed anyone else since then?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope,” you say, popping your lips on the p. “That's not how the game works, you don't get to add sub-questions.” 

His eyes don't leave yours as he draws his next card.

His turn for truth. He glances down to read his question.

“Have you ever wanted to have sex with any of the players?” 

Forget your cheeks feeling warm - your entire body feels like it's on fire as you wait for him to answer. 

He chuckles, tossing the card on top of the other two that had already been picked. 

“Every goddamn day since I kissed her almost two years ago.” 

You aren't sure which one of you snaps first. You lunge forward at the same moment that he's leaning across the splay of cards to grasp your face in his hands just like he did in that corridor two years ago. The same hint of spearmint on his breath, a bit more stubble on his jaw, and a sense of desperation that wasn't there before. 

He moves his hands to your lower back, pulling you flush against him as you both sit on your knees. Your own hands find the hem of his shirt, your fingers dancing across the skin of his waistline. 

“I asked you why you haven't kissed anyone since we last kissed,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, both of you breathless. “You don't have to answer, but that..” his mouth moves to the side of your throat where he trails open-mouth kisses across the sensitive flesh of your pulse point. 

“That's why I haven't kissed anyone else, either.” 

A pathetic, small moan escapes past your lips at his admission. In a split second decision, you take control. You place your hands across his chest, pushing him down onto the shag rug that you'd been playing games on just moments ago. He lets himself fall back, pulling you with him. 

You straddle him, positioning yourself directly on his already evident erection. You drag yourself forwards, and then backwards, desperate for friction - he groans beneath you, jutting upwards. 

The fabric of your pants between you feels like a prison. 

You scoot back a few inches - just far enough to give yourself enough room to unbutton his jeans. 

“Wait, wait,” he stops you as you're about to begin pulling down his pants and underwear. You freeze, petrified that you've crossed a line– 

“I haven't stopped thinking about having your thighs wrapped around my head since I saw them earlier,” he says as he hooks his hands around them and hauls you up to his chest. “Take these off and sit on my face.” He tugs on the waistline of your leggings. 

“If you wanted me to take my pants off for you so badly, you could have just said so,” you echo his earlier teasing. 

“I'm asking you now, sweetheart,” his voice has a strained edge to it. “Don't make me beg.” 

Though the notion of him begging has wetness pooling down your thighs, you're too eager to entertain it. 

You stand up, directly above him as he keeps his position on the floor. You shimmy your leggings down your thighs, this time completely removing them and tossing them somewhere behind you. He tugs his t-shirt over his head and throws it in the general direction of your discarded pants. 

With you still standing above him, he leans forward so that his face brushes against the inside of your thighs. He brings his hands to the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers and slowly pulling them down until they're at your ankles. 

You slip them off as he lays back down on the floor. A bit apprehensively, you sit so that your bare pussy is against his hard chest. 

“Just stop me if it's too uncomfortable or if you can't breathe or any–” 

He cuts you off by all but picking you up and hauling you up to his face.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” his voice vibrates against the flesh of your innermost thighs. He tugs you down just one more inch so that his mouth makes contact with your center. 

You gasp out in pleasure as his tongue begins exploring your folds. There's no restraint about it - he sets a brutal pace, alternating between fucking his tongue into your cunt and sucking on your clit. 

You're writhing above him, grinding your pussy against his mouth. You go to squeeze your breasts, pulling your t-shirt off when you realize it's the one clothing article you've yet to shed. 

When he realizes that you're now completely naked above him, he lets out an animalistic groan as he laps a thick lick up your center. 

The vibration, in addition to him now squeezing your ass with enough pressure that he's bound to leave behind fingertip shaped bruises, is enough to send you spiraling to your climax. 

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs around his cheeks, riding out your orgasm as he continues to wrap his lips around your throbbing clitoris. 

You go still for a moment, aside from your heaving chest, as you come back down to earth. 

You climb off of him, your jellified legs nearly causing you to collapse onto the floor next to him. 

He props himself up with one arm, looking down at you. His face is thoroughly glistening with your juices. 

You can't help but think he's never looked hotter. 

A proud grin begins to form across his features as you pull him down to you by the back of his neck. 

You kiss him with as much feverency as you can muster in your post orgasm haze, tasting the semi-sweet tang of your come on his lips and tongue. 

“It's your turn to get these off,” you demand, drawing back from the kiss to pull at the waistband of his pants. 

“Can I at least take you to the comfy bed before this goes any further?” he bargains. “You are still recovering from multiple injuries, you know.” 

“I can assure you that I've never felt better.” But you let him have his way. He stands before picking you up, lifting you so that you can wrap your legs securely around his midsection. His large hands planted firmly on your ass, he walks the short distance to the bedroom. Your nipples pebble as they press against his bare chest. 

He gently places you on top of the comforter before standing back, at last removing his jeans and boxers. His cock springs forward, slapping against his lower belly. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. If it had been a long time since you had been kissed, it had been even longer since you had been fucked. 

He crawls onto the bed, hovering above where you lay. You automatically open your legs to allow him between them. 

His eyes rake up and down your body, pausing on your breasts. 

"You're goddamn stunning.” 

Before you can respond, he's leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth, the sensation has you arching your back into his touch. You can feel the tip of his cock jutting against your core - teasing but not yet entering. 

He starts to line himself up at your hole, his eyes locking onto yours as he pumps himself in his hand. He brings his lips down to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth at the same moment he nudges his tip past your entrance. 

There's a blissful burn as he cautiously buries himself inside you - you're simultaneously thankful that he's going slow and needing him balls deep. He pushes in, inch by inch, until you're filled to the hilt. When he can't get any deeper, he pulls back - and slams back into you all at once. 

You swear you can feel him in your stomach. You look down at where your bodies connect, the sight of him sliding in and out of you enough to have you on the edge of climaxing again already. 

He brings his metal hand to knead your breast. 

"Do you have any idea how many times I've pictured having you under me like this?” He coos. You gyrate your hips to meet his thrusts, causing his eyes to roll back into his head. 

“How many times I've thought about what your little moans would sound like?” 

Your only answer is a gutteral moan of his name as you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into the flesh of his back. 

“Your pussy feels even more like heaven than I imagined it would.” 

His praises send you over the edge - you're coming for a second time, clenching around him as his thrusts grow messy. He fucks you through your orgasm before he loses control himself, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he spills into you. 

With you still panting and limp beneath him,  his movements gradually come to a stop but he doesn't pull out - instead he flips you to your side and maneuvers himself into a spooning position behind you. 

He peppers soft kisses along the skin of your shoulder, being careful to avoid your stitches, and relaxes beside you. 

“Remind me to dislocate my knee more often,” you joke, processing everything that just happened. 

He snorts, then tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Remind me to play truth or dare with you more often.” He captures your lips in his, this kiss slower than any of the ones before. 

“I guess it would be weird to make you do my laundry for two weeks now, huh?” He teases, earning a laugh from you.

“You do still owe me a pizza, but I'll be happy to share it with you.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

[sparklysung]

✨SHARING IS CARING - l.d.h.✨

© sparklysung – 2024. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader

genre – smut, fluffish | non-idol!au, roommates!au, friends (?) to lovers!au

warnings – oral (m. and f. receiving), face sitting, cum eating, squirting, exhibitionism (reader touches hyuck while he's on a call with his friends), unprotected sex (pls don't), lots of cursing, mentions of hyuck masturbating to the thought of reader), a little possessiveness at the end, panty thief!hyuck.

word count – 5.733 words

summary – where your roommate from hell is also hot as hell, and both of you enjoy annoying the hell out of each other.

note – so... i've been working –on and off but still– on this for about maybe 2 years? i just recently got inspiration to finish it lol any feedback would be greatly appreciated, just pls be kind <3 anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this!

“hey, y/n. have you seen my-.”

“how fucking rude of you to just walk in unannounced. what if i was naked or something? learn how to knock, you airhead.”

your face turned into an ugly scowl when your roommate and the cause of all your nightmares –and wet dreams–, lee donghyuck, completely ignored your complaint, looking equally annoyed as you.

“shut up,” the boy sneered, “is that my fucking shirt you have on right now? i’ve been looking for it for the past three days!”

you let your eyes trail down your body, the graphic tee barely long enough to cover your ass as your fingers toyed with the hem of the garment.

“oh, yeah. i found it while doing laundry and thought it looked good on me so i decided to keep it,” you shrugged carelessly, “don’t you agree, hyuck?”

the piece of clothing that was oversized on him fitted even bigger on you, drowning your smaller frame. you looked so soft and warm in it, so incredibly comfy the tip of his fingers itched to touch you. to feel your perky breasts through the soft fabric of his shirt. 

he couldn’t deny it, you did look awfully good in his clothes. 

but he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it out loud. especially to your face.

“i mean yeah you look good,” donghyuck mumbled under his breath, shamelessly licking his chapped lips. 

when he noticed the sly grin etched on your face he had to pinch himself to force his eyes away from your alluring figure, careful not to get distracted by your smooth legs gracefully spread across the bed. 

shaking his head, he tried to remember why he had almost left a dent on your wall from the way he had slammed your bedroom door open in the first place.

“but that’s not the point here. you stole my clothes!”

his words made you scoff loudly, clearly pretending to be offended by his accusation. “i still don’t see the problem. didn’t your mom teach you to share?”

your blank expression and unbothered attitude was so incredibly infuriating donghyuck felt like plucking his eyelashes one by one. and he had no doubt in mind you were well aware of it. 

although most of your conversations consisted of you both bickering back and forth like two middle school kids fighting for the same toy, donghyuck had learned how that evil little mind of yours worked throughout the time you lived together.

your roommate may have not been the brightest lightbulb of all, but anyone with two working brain cells could agree that there was no activity in this world, nothing, that gave you as much joy as annoying the living hell out of him. 

truth is, nothing could have prepared you –or donghyuck– for the turn of events your life would take in the span of 24 hours. the moment you opened the front door to your dorm apartment –fully expecting to see a fellow uterus-bearer–, to him, luggage in hand and ready to move into the room next to yours, you made it your ultimate goal to terrorize the poor boy. 

and how could you not? your roommate-from-hell made it so easy for you to read him like an open book. one look at his face, at those big, expressive eyes and you could almost hear his thoughts.

“that’s my lucky shirt, i need it back. right now.”

“don’t you see i need it too? what am i supposed to wear if you take it away from me?”

“i don’t really care, y/n, that’s not my problem.”

“then come here and take it off yourself.”

the small gasp that tumbled out of his plush lips made a warm feeling pool at the pit of your stomach. if it weren’t because you were trying to fuck donghyuck and not fuck with donghyuck, you would have giggled. 

“w-what?”

“you heard me. if you want it back you’ll have to come take it off with your own hands.”

“you’re fucking crazy. i-i, what the fuck, y’know i can’t do that!” donghyuck cried out, his skin beginning to prickle with frustration, heart rate spiked up to reach dangerous speeds. “c’mon, y/n, just give it back already. the guys are waiting for me.”

“too bad.”

your pouty lips had him clenching his fists. not only to stop himself from choking you to death, but also to ground himself. he could feel a droplet of sweat drip down the back of his neck, body temperature rising concerningly fast at your very clear attempt at taunting him.

if only he could have them stretched around him, struggling to fit the thickness of his dick…

but that was not the matter at hand.

donghyuck was known for always being late to everything. and usually it was for a good reason. like forgetting about an important assignment until the very last minute and having to stay home to submit it on time. or getting stuck in traffic. or maybe even finding himself in trouble for running his mouth too much for his own good. 

all of them were pretty believable. things no one would ever have an ounce of a doubt could potentially happen. 

but this, this right here was something donghyuck could never explain to anybody without them immediately calling him out for trying to bullshit his way out of trouble. even if it was indeed real, no one would believe him. ever.

and to be fair, it did sound like the plot of a bad porn movie, one probably titled something along the lines of ‘lucky guy fucks hot roommate’.

considering how big of an attention whore you were, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had your own only fans account and were seeking a helping hand. his hand. 

“don’t you wanna fuck me, hyuck?”

if donghyuck wasn’t taken aback by your attitude before, he had to physically take a step back this time, jaw almost hitting the floor.

“why are you so horny all of a sudden?”

“wouldn’t you also feel horny if you had to constantly sit through your roommate getting off in the other room?”

donghyuck felt like a bucket of cold water was tossed over his head, and he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to his feet. you could see him scrambling to think of something to say. 

poor boy looked like he was caught committing a crime. 

how adorable. 

“okay, well, i’m sorry. i have needs, y’know? unfortunately i can’t control when my dick decides to get hard-.”

“i know you jerk off to the thought of me,” you interrupted abruptly, staring at him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “i’ve heard you before.”

the blood instantly drained from donghyuck’s face. he suddenly felt lightheaded, having to lean against your door in case he fainted.

how did you even find out? 

sure, he knew the walls were thin and not exactly soundproof. and yeah, your rooms were right next to each other, separated only by one of those thin walls he often joked about being made out of cardboard. but he always waited until you were out of the apartment to enjoy his much needed self care time. and he swore he was always quiet. as quiet as one can be when beating your meat to the thought of your sexy roommate.

“what are you-.”

“why don’t you just come fuck me instead of using your own hand?” you sounded as if you were offering him to wash the dishes, way too casual for the situation at hand. “i bet it doesn’t feel the same.”

donghyuck didn’t know what was going on. everything was moving too fast for his poor brain –rotten due to all the hours he had spent masturbating to hentai porn– to keep up, visibly struggling to process the situation. 

“fuck, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to react.”

the thing is, that was exactly what you wanted. for him to lose his shit and fuck you into next week. shove his dick in your pussy without even bother to let you adjust to the stretch and take you to pound town for the next five hours.

“i’m not joking, hyuck. i meant what i said.”

someone pinch me, he thought. 

was this a new way you discovered to toy with him? because if it was, then it was so fucked up. 

“fine. i’ll call jeno over then,” you shrugged, reaching out for your phone at his lack of response. “i’m sure he wouldn’t mind sticking his big dick in my tight little pussy.”

your words hit donghyuck like a fucking truck. his jaw almost dislocated from how wide his mouth flew open, the tips of his ears turning a rosy color at the prospect of his friend. in bed. with you. fucking his huge dick –because everyone knew he was packing– into your needy hole. having you cream all over his cock, holding onto his strong arms as you cry out his name.

just the thought of your fucked out expression and loud whines had him salivating in his mouth. 

donghyuck and jeno had been friends since forever, which meant he knew for a fact that his best friend would ditch him in a heartbeat if you did as much as look at him the way you were currently looking at your roommate. 

“c’mon hyuck, i know you’re dying to touch me.”

the boy in front of you visibly struggled to keep himself together when one of your hands traveled down your body to rub yourself through the thin material of your pajama shorts. his knees felt weak, ears burning at the sound of your sweet moans.

“i need you.”

your words replayed in his head like a broken record. you said you needed him. not jeno. not anyone else. him. as in donghyuck. your roommate for the past year.

as much as he did want to touch you, feel every curve of your body, he was also scared you were just messing with him. he was scared that finally giving in to his desires would just embarrass him and ruin his almost nonexistent chance with you.

god, donghyuck liked you so much. his little crush on you had already become annoying the moment he realized it even existed. 

you were the biggest tease he had ever met. and that says a lot coming from the lee donghyuck himself. you were always playfully flirting with him whenever you felt like it. or felt like giving him a hard time. and he could see it in your face you enjoyed every second of seeing him struggle to respond.

“i-i,” he gulped with difficulty, mouth dry as a desert. “i can’t.”

you watched the slim boy waddle his way out of your room. and you would’ve missed the tent growing in his shorts if he hadn’t almost tripped over his own feet and fallen next to you on your bed. 

for around ten minutes, you remained frozen in place, figuring out how to get your roommate to break and give into his –and your– desires.

this was the closest you had gotten to crossing the line separating an innocent friendship –if you could call it that– between roommates from something more. something you both wanted but knew he was far too scared to try and make happen. 

and how were you so sure about his feelings for you? 

easy. 

the boy wore his heart on his sleeve. 

anyone could tell how enamored he was with you. how he visibly perked up whenever you were around. the way his cheeks would turn an adorable shade of red and his eyes alternate between staring at the floor, daydreaming about you, and sending heart eyes your way. 

it had even become an ongoing joke within your own friend group. no one could –or wanted to– stop teasing you about his seemingly undying love for you. 

“c’mon, just look at him,” chaewon once pointed out in the middle of the library, elbowing you while whisper-shouting, “he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. even to the library!”

as much as you wanted to shush her, she was right. 

before he moved into your now shared apartment, he would remain at least a 100 miles radius from the library. it was as if he was allergic to knowledge, his handful of brain cells immediately going out of service at the smell of old books. 

now, once you joined the picture, it was as if a switch was flicked. he became a regular at the campus library all of a sudden, so much so that even the old librarian tending the front desk knew him by name. 

the end might be near, you thought when you first saw him sitting in a corner of the library, a variety of books sprawled across the table as he pretended to understand the book in his hands on quantum physics. you knew, of course, he didn’t. the boy was so busy looking around the building for something –or rather someone– to notice the book he was holding was upside down. 

his blatant attempts at getting closer to you weren’t a complete fail though, as they had your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about the messy boy on the other side of your bedroom wall. 

but before even thinking about how boyfriend material he was when he wasn’t trying to piss you off, you first wanted to test the waters. get a sneak peek at what dating donghyuck would look like without actually committing to it just yet. 

and the only way you could think of to do so without forcing yourself into a vulnerable position and directly confessing was by fucking your roommate. 

after taking a run for it out of your room, donghyuck decided he would have to do without his lucky shirt during this gaming session. hopefully only tonight. he knew the guys would not leave him alone if he was the reason for another loss, especially after boasting so much about his abilities the last time they played together. 

sitting on his gamer chair, still shaken by the interaction, he ran his fingers through his hair to clear his reeling mind. he needed to forget about what had just happened in the other room and focus on the task at hand: winning rounds in pubg. 

soon, donghyuck was able to immerse himself in the game, all thoughts about you drowning at the loud sound of firearms and the screams of his friends coming from his headset. so far he had been able to take down roughly a dozen other players, carrying the highest streak among his friends much to his delight.

however, the calm before the storm didn’t last long. 

the boy tensed up, fingers stuttering over his gamer keyboard when you rested your warm cheek right next to the still noticeable bulge in his basketball shorts. instinctively, his legs parted to give you space to position yourself between them. 

he hadn’t even noticed the moment when you had slipped into his room and quietly crawled under his desk, too deep into the game to sense the movement. 

donghyuck would be lying if he said he had never thought about you on your knees for him before. so many, almost too many times. he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide.

willing his heart to slow down a bit, he peered down at you. you looked so unbelievably beautiful with your long eyelashes fluttering delicately as you stared up at him, big eyes locked on his.

“keep playing,” your hot breath against his inner thigh had the hairs in his neck standing up.

he hadn’t even realized when exactly he had stopped playing, too busy engraving the visual in front of him in his head.

gulping with some difficulty, donghyuck did as he was told. usually it came easy for him to submerge himself in the game, tuning out everything but the loud voices of his friends.

“you’re so hard, hyuckie,” you snickered, licking your lips as your finger trailed the outline of his painfully hard cock with a feather-like touch that caused him to shiver. “is it all for me?”

he pursed his lips tightly and simply bobbed his head yes, afraid of his friends catching onto what was going on on his end of the call.

satisfied, you let yourself cop a feel of his length. your hand palmed him over his pants, squeezing around the sensitive head every so often. even through the material of his shorts you could feel the precum leaking out of his tip.

the view in front of you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together, thickened clit throbbing in excitement. 

his silky hair, usually styled, was now messily framing his pretty face in the most beautiful way possible. his dark eyes were rolled back, slender fingers curling into fists as his hips raised from the chair, sloppily humping your hand. he looked fucked out already with sweat already dripping down his temple.

what a man.

“dude, what’s up with you? you sound like you just ran a marathon,” mark’s voice had donghyuck squirming in his seat, heart almost beating out of his chest. “are you alright?”

the boy’s head snapped to look at the screen in front of him, neck almost breaking from the aggressiveness of the movement.

“speak up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, tightening your fingers around the base of his cock.

his hips stuttered, hands holding on the edge of his desk as he swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape his lips. he heaved a shaky breath, summoning all his self control to not bust his load right then and there.

“i-i’m fine,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was struggling to make a sound. or more like to not make a sound. “shouldn’t have had taco bell for lunch.”

you could see the boy holding his breath, terrified his friends would see right through his weak excuse of a lie. and a sigh of relief almost slipped past his lips when they only hummed, quickly going back to their previous conversation, not very interested in digging into the cause of his unusual behaviour any deeper.

meanwhile, the pretty little devil between his legs got to work, releasing his dick by harshly pulling down his shorts. you blew air at the sensitive tip, making him shudder at the sensation. but it wasn’t until you placed a peck to his slit, fingers going to hold him at the base, pumping your fist up and down, when the boy gave into his primal desires.  

“guys, gotta go,” donghyuck interrupted the conversation less than five minutes later, hurriedly clicking off the game and moving to end the call.

“what-,” renjun protested immediately, sounding nothing less than annoyed, and donghyuck was sure he would be getting nagged next time he saw his friend. “we’re in the middle of a round and getting our asses kicked because of you, you can’t just dip now!”

“i’m sorry,” was all he mumbled before turning off his computer.

donghyuck didn’t even bother taking off his headphones, opting for simply letting it hang around his neck. he was too close, too desperate for release to worry about getting sweat all over the –new and very expensive– device –that he had just acquired not even a week ago after months of hard work–.

he could feel how hot his face was, sticky skin burning under the intense heat of your gaze. the smug smirk that adorned your pretty face had his body on fire, a combination of embarrassment and need making his cock twitch uncontrollably. 

being able to see the power you had over the lee donghyuck had you almost shaking with excitement, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you out of breath. you would be lying if you said you had never thought about this, having him all to yourself, at your disposal, ready to take anything you gave him. 

your hand never stopped moving up and down his length, giving kitten licks to the swollen tip of his cock. 

he wanted to scream and smash his head against the desk, desperation clawing at his throat. he knew you were trying to break him, to make him beg for it, to fully give in to you. 

the idea of pleading for your touch, for you to engulf his hard cock with that sweet little mouth of yours had his jaw clenching. 

but fuck… he really wanted, no, needed more. to watch you gag as he fucked your throat, tears escaping the corner of your eyes at the discomfort. he wanted your soft hands gripping his strong thighs to hold yourself together, a mix of saliva and his precum making the lower half of your face glisten under the light of his screen. 

“i,” he struggled to speak up, voice trembling from the intense pleasure. “i’m close.”

“i can see that,” you smirked, twirling your tongue around the head before gently poking his slit with the tip of your tongue. 

“please, i need more.”

donghyuck finally broke, babbling incoherent words, urging you to fully take him in. 

fortunately for him, you immediately obliged, pushing your head down until the tip of your nose hit his neatly trimmed pelvis. he really thought some more begging was going to be necessary for you to give him what he wanted. 

“fuck, yeah. just like that,” the sigh of relief he let out quickly turned into a loud moan when you swallowed around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs. 

his orgasm hit him like a wrecking ball. his entire body began trembling, hands shooting to hold your head down –as if you were planning on pulling away–, fingers threading through your hair for a better grip. spurts of hot, salty cum painting the walls of your throat, and you eagerly swallowed everything he gave you. 

the sound of his heavy breaths filled the dimly lit room, his body still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just rocked his world. 

you pushed his gamer chair back by his thighs, climbing onto his lap with a satisfied hum. you allowed him some rest, aware of his shaky legs, and instead focused your attention on the tan skin of his neck. you placed a tentative lick right under his jaw, slowly moving down the expanse of his throat. the feeling had the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing aggressively, your fingers going to play with the hem of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room. 

once he stopped feeling like his legs were going to give up on him, donghyuck stood up from his place on the chair making you yelp in surprise, strong arms holding you against him. he then sat at the edge of his bed, head resting on your shoulder. 

“i wanna taste you,” donghyuck pleaded, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. “please, sit on my face.”

you instantly nodded, quickly removing your pajama shorts, body tingling with anticipation as you pressed your palm flat on his chest to push him onto his back. he complied, not a single complaint coming out of his mouth at your display of dominance.

donghyuck swiped his tongue over his pretty lips, wetting them and leaving them glistening with spit as he patiently waited for your next move.

“so eager,” you teased, a smug grin on your face.

“stop playing and hurry up,” the boy whined, lifting himself from his place, holding himself up with the help of his forearms. 

his eyes were barely open, pupils blown out. he looked so hot, laying shirtless on his messy bed. all hard and wet, ready for you to drop your panties and sit on his dick.

and oh how bad you wanted to sit on it.

swinging your leg over his body, you positioned yourself so your dripping pussy was hovering right over his mouth. you immediately felt his large hands grip at your ass, forcing you down to finally sit on his face.

“thank you,” you could clearly feel his lips moving against your panty-clad core, the breathy sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “god, thank you so much.”

you didn’t even get to laugh at him, or tease him about how desperate he looked sucking your juices off of your panties. all that died on your tongue when he used two fingers to push the crotch of your underwear out of the way and immediately latched his mouth to your pussy. 

“look at you, what a messy munch, eating me out like your life depends on it,” you teased, biting your lip when you felt his tongue poke at your gaping hole, caressing your insides. 

the dirty words coming out of your mouth had donghyuck physically shaking under your weight, urging him to keep going. he wanted nothing more than to see you cum, have your hips sloppily rocking into his pretty lips and leaving the evidence of your arousal all over his face. 

“fuck, hyuck. just like that,” you sighed contently, harshly grinding against his mouth. “you’re such a good boy.”

donghyuck hummed appreciatively, relishing at the praise, eyes falling shut and hands reaching for your thighs, massaging the soft flesh. 

he loved the attention you were giving him, and he let you know just how proud of himself he was when one of his palms slammed against your ass cheek before nipping at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

it all happened so fast that your orgasm caught you completely off guard. you didn’t even have time to flinch at the stinging on your backside, the knot in your stomach suddenly snapping, and you melted into a puddle. your trembling thighs clamped around donghyuck’s head, your entire upper body folding forward, struggling not to collapse on top of the boy under you.

you must have blacked out for a second there, and once you regained consciousness you were left in a breathless, sweaty mess. 

“shit, that was so fucking hot,” donghyuck mumbled, sounding breathless as he stared down at his body with hooded eyes, snapping you out of your daze. “when were you going to tell me you could squirt?”

“i can’t-,” you choked on a loud gasp when you saw his now glistening chest. 

your cum had sprinkled all over the place, some of it even reaching his naked thighs. embarrassment washed over your face, making your cheeks heat up. 

“this is so much better than what i had hoped for, fuck.”

his pretty cock stood tall, in all its glory once again, hard and leaking, twitching every time his eyes travelled back to the mess you made. 

swallowing your embarrassment, you moved to straddle your roommate’s hips, teasing your wet pussy over his hard cock. but before you could fuck yourself with it, donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you before flipping you both on your side.

“what are you doing,” you scowled, a pout on your swollen lips. “i was about to ride you!”

“as sexy as that sounds, we can do that later.”

“but-.”

“just, let me, okay?” his voice sounded so soft, so soothing you couldn't find it in you to fight with him as you usually would. “do you trust me?”

“what? what are you gonna do?”

“answer me, please.”

donghyuck’s soft voice and tender gaze made a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, a fuzzy feeling settling into your chest.

“i do.”

one of his hands grabbed your leg, bringing it to rest over his hip before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. donghyuck smashed his mouth against yours, swallowing the small whimper that fell from your lips when he teased your clit.

“hyuck, put it in already,” you whined, clenching around nothing at the friction. 

and how could he say no when you sounded so desperate to feel him? when he had been waiting for this moment for so long?

nodding, he did as you wished, pushing his hips into yours. his thick cock stretched your pussy wide open with each delicious inch, filling you up in a way you didn’t know you needed. his mouth fell open as your velvety walls enveloped him. your head rolled back, holding onto his arms for support, letting him push himself in further, deeper.

it felt like heaven. your bodies fitting perfectly against each other, as if you were both made for the other; just like puzzle pieces. 

low groans left his chest at the sound of your tiny mewls, enjoying the burning sensation of your nails digging into the flesh of his arms. 

donghyuck liked the way you said his name, how you called out to him with pretty eyelashes decorating those big eyes of yours as you looked at him. he liked the frustration and raw desire swimming in your eyes, and the way it made your lips form into a pout and your eyebrows scrunch together.

“move, hyuck,” you pleaded, attempting to grind your hips into his. “please.”

a scream was forced out of your throat as donghyuck immediately began slamming his throbbing cock inside of you. your whole body trembled in his arms as the bulbous head hit your g-spot, and almost as if he had just pressed a button, your mind went blank.

“t-there, fuck, oh my g-god.”

the distant look in your eyes, lips parted into a silent moan, drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth, let him know just how good he was making you feel. his chest swelled with pride, a newfound passion taking over him and turning his thrusts into deep, precise strokes that had you reaching heaven. 

“feels good? this is what you wanted, right? to have my dick fucking you full?” donhyuck grunted, repositioning you on your back and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he could feel himself throbbing wildly inside of you, warning him about his up and coming high. 

“yes,” you gasped, legs tightening around his waist in an effort to bring him closer. 

you would be telling the truth if you said you had never gotten railed like this before. who would’ve guessed the hentai-crazed dork next door would be so good at fucking you dumb? if it weren’t for his now obvious experience in the matter at hand you would’ve confidently assumed he had never been touched by a woman. 

oh how wrong you were. 

“i’ve dreamed about this for the longest time,” the boy confessed, “every time you walked around the place, wearing only a large shirt and panties, ass in full display, i had to lock myself in this room to fuck my first, wishing it was you instead.”

donghyuck could feel your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice at the weight of his confession. with your orgasms quickly approaching, he propped your calves on his strong shoulders to reach even deeper, lips going to kiss your breasts and nibble on your nipples. 

“i can tell how much you like to be treated like the dirty slut you are,” he groaned against your chest, feeling his vision blur. “you’re fucking dripping all over me, creaming my cock.”

“h-hyuck,” your body began convulsing under him, about to tip over the edge. 

“cum for me, y/n, let me see how pretty you look falling apart on my dick.”

and that was all you needed to hear before a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body, calves squeezing donghyuck’s head from the intensity of your orgasm. 

before you were able to fully ride your high, donghyuck pulled out, drawing whines out of you at the emptiness he left behind. ignoring your complaints, he shoved your legs together, shoving his cock between your plush thighs as he picked up his pace once again. 

“fuck, i’m almost there,” he moaned, breathless. 

and you couldn’t help but do the same as you stared at his face, eyes struggling to stay open as he chased his high like a rabid dog, using your body for his pleasure. 

it didn’t take more than three harsh thrusts before he was spilling his essence all over your lower stomach and thighs with a pornographic moan. 

releasing his hold on your legs to let them fall back in place, he collapsed on top of you, almost crushing you with his body, completely spent. 

fortunately –or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it–, donghyuck was unable to successfully commit homicide. and after showering together and going for another round, each of you went back to your respective rooms, moving on like nothing happened. 

just like that, your lives quickly fell back in place and normality took over once again. 

or so you thought. 

“hyuck, have you seen my pink panti-.”

you audibly gasped when you saw the pink lace panties you were searching for discarded on your roommate’s bed, a huge cum stain you were sure was not there the last time you saw them messily smeared on the crotch. 

“what the fuck?” 

“oh, yeah, i saw them in the dryer the other day and thought they looked too pretty not to jerk off to them,” the boy shrugged from his place in front of his large monitor, not even bothering to look at you. “honestly, you should invest in satin thongs, i think they’d look hot as fuck.”

“you little thief! i’ve been looking for them for days!”

“need i remind you that sharing is caring?” you huffed, a scowl on your face. “what do you need them for anyway?”

“to go out with chaewon, obviously?” you scoffed, annoyed. 

he finally turned to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up and a dark look in his eyes. “so? were you planning on showing them to her or what?”

the growing annoyance in his tone left you scrambling for an answer, equally parts surprised and turned on by the hint of possessiveness in his voice. 

“so what if i was?” you challenged, arms crossed in defiance. 

you barely got time to react when his chair suddenly swirled around, donghyuck’s full attention now set on you.

“only i am allowed to see you in them, so you better behave.”

–lia:)

[satowooo]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH

Ah, did Satoru hear you right when you called him daddy?

warnings. 18+, nsfw, smut, breeding kink, pet names, daddy kink, pussy slapping, oral (f! receiving), swearing, dirty, talks, unprotected sex (p in v), not proofread.

The first time Satoru heard you call him “daddy” was when you were talking about him with your little son, and he didn't expect for his dick to throb so hard against his pants when he hears those words escape your pretty lips.

It turned him on, and God, he can't believe he just discovered a new kink of his just by hearing you utter a single harmless word in front of your child.

“Come on, sweetheart, Daddy will take you to grandmas, okay?” You tell your little kid, kissing him on the cheek before you wave your goodbye. Satoru's eyes sparked with lust, and he swears he almost feels his mouth watering with need, if not because of you suddenly handing him your son and his little backpack.

He coughed, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Daddy will be back,” he whispers to your ear teasingly, nibbling lightly on your earlobe. “See you later, love.”

Satoru, on his part, just couldn't help his growing erection every time it happened, so he made sure that you'll be saying that endearment everytime you two are in bed. And what's the perfect timing for it to happen than now?

“What's that again, love?” His voice was muffled against your core, lapping at your folds like a madman. He kept your legs spread open wide apart as his tongue licks a long stripe of your hole, making you squirm in his grasp.

“Toru-”

“Ah, ah, not that, baby.” He smiled, pulling his tongue away so he could look up at you from where he was positioned right between your thighs.

You closed your eyes tightly, a small whine escaping your lips at the loss of his touch. You don't even know how you ended up here, sprawled out on your bed, right after Satoru just got home from taking your son to his grandparents. It happened so fast that your mind was too cloudy to even process it, now that Satoru had you right under his grasp, urging you to call him with this new nickname he had grown to like.

“P-please, stop teasing,” you couldn't help but groan, your fingers tugging on his hair to pull him closer. “I need to cum, Satoru…”

“Patience, my love.” He chuckled, rubbing circles on your clit to keep you sated. He admires the way your face flushed, mouth parted as you grind yourself on his fingers. The way you desperately look so fucked out of your mind with the way he was eating your pussy easily made his cock twitched inside his pants. “Come on, let me hear it.”

“Please, Toru…” You whimpered, eyes heavy-lidded as you looked at him. He had the widest grin on his face, shaking his head tauntingly at the name you called him. Your chest was heaving so heavily, hands gripping the sheets just to have something to keep yourself in control, even though you're already out of it, “Please… daddy, p-please…”

Gods above, your voice, your moan, your pleas, a siren song that he wishes he could just drown himself into. He can feel his arousal growing and growing each second, the way your words just fuels his desire to just bend your over your knees and fuck you senseless until you can't walk for a few weeks. Maybe he'll do that, yeah?

“Fuck,” he curses underneath his breath, plunging two fingers right at your hole. “Such a good girl for me, aren't you?” His eyes darkened, before he dived right in between your thighs to devour you once again.

His tongue licked on your folds, your wetness coating his lips and fingers, his drool dripping on the corner of his mouth at how messy he's gotten. So dirty, and so intoxicated. He drinks your every essence, sucking your clit like it was a drug he had become addicted to, and he won't stop until you're quivering against him, begging and writhing for more.

“Ohh! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your moans echo through the room, hips bucking at the intense sensation of his tongue lapping at your needy cunt. “D-daddy, more, more–”

Satoru hummed, smiling to himself as he hears your whiny voice. “You're asking for it, aren't you?” He kissed your cunt softly, lovingly, and so sloppily that it got you whimpering. “Who's making you feel this good, huh, baby? Who's making this cunt so wet and so needy for more?” Another thrust, another pump of his fingers. Another lick, and another suck of his tongue. It's too much. All too good.

You let out a gasp, your legs almost closing on his head, the way his words, so dirty and unforgivingly teasing with you, made you want to crumble instantly. “You, Satoru–”

“Who?”

You gasp harshly when his fingers smack against your cunt, back arching off the bed, the sting it brought to your system spreading like wildfire that ignited your lust even more. “Sato-” and another smack, your hips shaking of pain and pleasure, “fuck– d-daddy~ daddy makes me feel so g-good…”

“Gotta have to get used to that, baby,” leaning in, he starts to make out with your folds once again, “because I'm not stopping until all I hear is you screaming and begging for more of my touch,” he lets go of your cunt with a loud pop, licking your bud one more time before he sits up, grinning at you spread out before him. “More of my dick, more of my cum.”

He starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down until his cock angrily sprung free to sight, leaking with his pre-cum. He positioned himself right at your entrance, leaning down to nip at your neck, “Gonna make this pussy cum for her daddy.” Satoru grunts as he pushes inside you, inch by inch, your pussy slowly sucking him in. He let out a hiss as you clenched tightly around him, “fuck yeah, ya like that, don't you?”

“S-so good, feels so good, daddy…” His jaw clenched as he starts to ram his dick on your gummy walls, stretching you open with his size. You were already going crazy about his cock, your tight cunt already gripping on him like you don't want to let go. And he enjoys it so much, hearing your whiny voice, all just for him.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of this pussy,” he growled, lifting your leg up to his shoulders. His thrusts begin to increase its pace, making sure he hits your g-spot time and time again. He relished into your pleasure, his cock slamming right at you with great force that it had you seeing stars. No matter how many times he fucked you so hard, he never fails to give you the pleasure you need, never fails to hit your sweet spot, never fails to make you cum intensely.

And Satoru just loves it. He loves the way his little wife is taking his cock so well inside her sobbing pussy, maybe he'll even fuck another baby in there, he just really loves the way your pussy slushes and quelches everytime he's so deep inside of you, and here you are, whimpering and moaning and begging just the way he wants you. But most especially, he just loves the way you call out for him, whether by his name or that silly endearment that unexpectedly turned him on, he's just really that addicted to you that he can't find it in himself to stop, making sure that he had claimed you at all the right places, all the right holes, as he pleases.

“So perfect, so fucking perfect for her daddy.”

Oh, and did he mention that he just loves you so much?

•••

BONUS

“He's such a sweet boy,” Satoru’s mom entered the house, your son cradled in her arms, resting him on the couch.

“Of course, he takes that from me,” he smirked to himself, taking a seat next to his son, who quickly found his way to his lap. He immediately feels his heart melt as he guides his son properly, a hand on his back so he won't lose balance. “Did my boy miss me?” He muttered, poking his son's cheek that made the little baby giggle.

“I doubt that,” he hears his mother reply. She takes a look around the living room, nodding silently, “Where's Y/N? I want to see my daughter-in-law.”

Satoru bit back a smile threatening to spread on his lip. “She's sleeping. She had been really exhausted… with houseworks,” his eyes glinted when his son reached for his hand, playing with his slender fingers, "and taking care of this bad boy,” he added, poking his son's cheek again. Satoru carried his son by the armpit, raising him up in the air, before he leaned down to softly bite the child on the cheek with his lips, making his son laugh and squirm in delight.

“Are you not helping her, Satoru?” His mother eyed him disapprovingly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I see you're as useless as ever.”

“I am helping her, Mom!” Satoru raised one hand defensively, frowning at his mother. He gently placed his son off his lap and back to the couch, before he stood up and headed over to his mom. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and forcibly took her to the door. “Now, now, mom, I'm afraid I must have my time with my son. You should go.” He said, pushing her out gently.

“Oh, you child!” His mother muttered against her breath, swatting his hand away from her shoulder. Satoru kissed her cheek, offering her a boyish smile that he knew would make his mother relent to him. She only frowned at his face. “Fine, I'll go. You should tell Y/N to let us have your son with us again, at least for a week.”

“Oh, certainly!” He lightened up suddenly, his tone excited and mind silently cheering, a little too excited that his mom gave him a look.

“I swear, you're not my son.”

Satoru just lets out a laugh as he waves her goodbye. His mind was already racing with thoughts of when he can have you alone again, for a week this time.

i was typing this furiously for over an hour