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

[ang3lc]

hey yall mind if i practice my angst? no? well don't mind if i do....

simon riley x gn!reader, angst, i wrote this while listening to fireside by arctic monkeys, so listen to that

The rain hammered against the windows of your flat, drowning out the sound of your footsteps pacing the small living room. Simon stood by the door, soaked through, his black hoodie clinging to his broad frame, water pooling at his boots. His hair, dirty blonde and darkened by the rain, fell messily over his forehead, dripping onto the floor. He looked at you with that same unreadable expression he always wore—a mask, even now.

“You shouldn’t have come,” you said, voice tight, arms crossed over your chest as if it might shield you from what was coming.

“Had to,” he said simply, his voice low, rough. It wasn’t an excuse; it was just a fact, like the rain outside or the way he always had to have the last word.

You shook your head, biting back the lump rising in your throat. “Why, Simon? What could you possibly need from me that you don’t already have?”

He took a step forward, his boots squelching against the floor. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words got caught somewhere between his throat and his pride.

“You don’t get to do this,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “You don’t get to show up here, looking like that, saying nothing, and expect me to just… what? Fall apart for you? Again?”

Simon’s jaw clenched, his shoulders rising slightly like he was bracing for impact. He always did that—closed himself off just enough to make you feel the distance. And yet, here he was.

“I don’ know how t'do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what, Simon?” you asked, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. “Be honest? Let someone in? Or is it just me you can’t handle?”

He flinched at that, but his eyes never left yours. Those eyes—dark, stormy, always hiding more than they showed—locked onto yours with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“'M here, aren’t I?” he said, his voice rough, almost defensive.

“Barely,” you shot back. “You’re here, but you’re not. You’re in my life, but never really. You’ve lived in my heart so long, I don’t even know what it feels like to be without you, and it’s killing me.”

His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, you thought you saw something break in him—some piece of the armor he always wore. “'Never wanted t'hurt you,” he said, quieter now.

“But you do,” you whispered. “Every time you leave, every time you shut me out, you hurt me. And I let you. Because I keep thinking maybe this time, it’ll be different.”

The silence between you was deafening, broken only by the rain and the soft sound of your unsteady breaths. He looked down at the floor, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Maybe I should go,” he said finally, the words like a knife to your chest.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling. “Maybe you should.”

He turned to leave, but then he stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He didn’t look back when he said, “I wish I could be better f'you.”

You laughed bitterly, wiping at your eyes. “No, Simon. You just wish I didn’t want more than this. But I do. I deserve more.”

He nodded once, his shoulders stiff, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, the weight of his absence settling over you like a heavy blanket. You hated him in that moment—for his silence, for his distance, for the way he always left before you could even begin to put yourself back together.

The rain lingered long after Simon left, clinging to the air, clinging to you. You stayed by the door, staring at the spot where he had stood, the faint smell of cedarwood and cigarette smoke still lingering like a ghost in the room. It felt cruel how the world didn’t stop, how life kept moving while you stood frozen in the aftermath of him.

Simon Riley. He had been a hurricane in your life—silent, destructive, and devastatingly brief. Every time he walked away, he left pieces of himself behind, and you hated that you were the one who had to pick them up, to carry the weight he refused to bear.

The flat felt colder now, emptier, as if he had taken the warmth with him. You crossed the room, your fingers ghosting over the armrest of the couch where he used to sit, his legs spread wide, his head tilted back as if he could find peace in your living room when he couldn’t find it anywhere else.

There were nights when Simon spoke in his sleep. He never realized it, but you’d stay awake just to listen to the pieces he let slip—names, places, apologies that never made sense. It was the only time he ever truly let you in, and even then, it felt like stealing.

You sat on the couch now, wrapping your arms around yourself, staring at the coffee table where he used to rest his boots, always muttering something about how your flat was “too clean to feel like a real home.” His words had been teasing, but there was an ache in them too—a longing for something he couldn’t name.

The thing was, you knew he cared. In his own quiet, fractured way, Simon cared. It was in the way he lingered by your door like he didn’t want to leave but couldn’t stay. It was in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, just for a second, before he caught himself. It was in the way he always came back, even though he knew it would hurt both of you.

But caring wasn’t enough. Not when his silence felt like a wall you couldn’t climb. Not when he held you at arm’s length even while standing close enough to touch.

You leaned back, your head hitting the cushion, and closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. But the tears came anyway, hot and bitter, slipping down your cheeks and pooling in the hollow of your throat.

Somewhere, Simon was probably walking in the rain, his hood pulled up, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He’d tell himself it was better this way, that leaving was the kindest thing he could do. He’d convince himself that you’d move on, that you’d be happier without him.

But he’d be wrong. Because he wasn’t just a part of your life. He was the center of it, the axis everything else revolved around. And now that he was gone, you didn’t know how to spin without him.

In the quiet of your flat, you thought about calling him, about saying all the things you never could when he was standing in front of you. But what would you even say? Come back? Stay? Love me the way I love you?

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. And you were tired of breaking yourself trying to fix him.

Instead, you picked up your phone and deleted his number. It wasn’t enough to erase him from your life, but it was a start. Because if Simon Riley couldn’t choose you, then you had to choose yourself.

And yet, as you sat there, staring at the empty screen, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was out there thinking of you too, if he felt the same ache, the same hollow emptiness you felt.

But you’d never know. Because Simon Riley was a ghost. And ghosts always disappeared.

mlist

[itseungraps]

STRUGGLES OF LOVE ▸ p.sh

• pairing: boxer!sunghoon x ballerina!reader

• overview: she got tired of waiting, he fought back.

• published: 30.11.24

﹅ and i'm not sure i like it, i'm so tired of fighting…

• • •

y/n stood backstage, staring at her reflection in the mirror. her pointe shoes pinched her feet, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

tonight was supposed to be special—her biggest recital of the year, a performance she had spent months preparing for. and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that, once again, park sunghoon wouldn’t be there to watch her perform.

the sound of the audience murmuring outside was drowned by her own swirling thoughts. sunghoon had promised—promised—that he would be there this time. but deep down, she knew better than to trust him anymore. the championships, the endless hours of training, the fame that seemed to draw him further and further away from her.

the stage manager knocked on the door. “you're up next.”

y/n took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage, her heart heavy with both anticipation and the fear of being alone, even in front of hundreds of eyes. the spotlight hit her, and she went through the motions, each movement sharp and precise, but the music sounded distant, as if it were coming from another world.

her mind was elsewhere, running through the conversation they had had earlier that week.

• • •

“i don't understand, sunghoon.”

her voice was tight, her fingers clenched into fists. they were sitting on the couch, the distance between them growing, despite the small space of their apartment.

“i've told you, y/n. i have to be ready for the match. it's the title fight.” sunghoon tone was soft but firm, his expression more focused on his phone than her.

“y/n? no nicknames like ‘baby’ anymore?” she exhaled disappointingly. “it's always about the next fight, the next championship. you promised i wouldn't have to perform alone.” ber voice broke on the last words, her heart pounding in her chest. “but here we are again, sunghoon.”

he finally looked up from his screen, his eyes filled with the exhaustion of a thousand matches. “it's not like i want to miss it. you know how important this is for me, too.”

“you don’t get it,” she whispered, the anger and frustration spilling out of her, “i want you to be there for me, like how i'm always at your matches. not just when it's convenient. i want you to be here, sunghoon. not just in body, but my life.”

his jaw clenched. “i am here. i just…have priorities."

“priorities? You keep choosing boxing over me! over us." Her voice cracked. “i’m tired of being second place."

the words hung in the air, suffocating them both.

sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but y/n didn't give him the chance. she stood up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "maybe you should go then. go fight your championships. i'll be fine here on my own."

he stood up too, the muscles in his arms tightening, but his eyes softened. “baby, don't do this. i’m sorry. i want to be there.”

“you’re never there, sunghoon!” she turned away, trying to wipe away the tears that had already started to fall. “i need you to show up. i need you to choose me."

he reached for her, but she pulled away. “you can’t just keep saying sorry and expect things to change. i’m tired of being second in your life.”

• • •

the final note of the music rang out in the theater, and y/n finished the performance, her body moving on autopilot, but her mind still anchored in the memory of the argument. the applause was deafening, however it felt hollow. she was proud of herself for finishing, but the emptiness in her heart was overwhelming.

as she walked off the stage, her stomach twisted. she pulled off her ballet shoes, her fingers trembling. where was he? she had waited, just like every other time, but he hadn’t shown up. not even a text.

her phone buzzed in her bag. she pulled it out, and the screen flashed with a message from sunghoon:

“i’m sorry, baby. i couldn’t make it. please understand. i’ll make it up to you. i love you.”

her breath hitched as her fingers hovered over the screen. she wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room. but instead, she set it down on the vanity, the weight of his words feeling like another betrayal.

she had wanted him to be there. she had needed him to be there. and once again, he had let her down.

the door to the dressing room opened, and she turned. it was sunghoon.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, his voice quiet, the regret in his eyes palpable. “i didn’t want to disappoint you. i—“

“disappoint me?” she echoed, her voice cold and raw. "you always disappoint me. you keep choosing boxing over me. you keep choosing everything else over us. how many more times are you going to say ‘sorry’ before i realize you don’t actually care?"

his face fell, and for a moment, y/n saw the hurt in his eyes. but it wasn’t enough. it wasn’t enough to undo the months of broken promises, of missed recitals, of being pushed to the side for every fight that came up.

“i do care," he whispered, stepping closer. “i love you, y/n. you mean the world to me, but i just... i don’t know how to balance it all.”

her breath caught in her throat. “maybe it's too late to balance anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

for a long time, neither of them spoke. sunghoon’s presence filled the room, but it only made the silence heavier. y/n wiped her tears away, her heart aching in ways she didn’t know how to explain.

• • •

she stared at the heartbroken girl in front of her. two weeks had gone by since she cut off ties with him but the pain she felt made it seem like it was just yesterday everything went down.

watching the mirror as she lifted her arms, the familiar ache of her muscles grounding her. she was in the studio alone, the soft sound of her pointe shoes tapping against the floor, her reflection staring back at her, lit by the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. 

the room was silent except for her breath, steady and controlled. ballet was the one thing that always made sense. the lines, the discipline, the hours of practice—everything was exact. unlike the mess of her feelings.

“you're formation is still perfect,” there it was, the familiar voice. she hated to admit that she missed it.

not bothering to look back, she stared into his eyes from the mirror. in the span of two weeks, he managed to stay looking neat despite the bruises on his face from boxing.

“why are you here, sunghoon?” she asked, desperately searching for at least a hint of guilt which she succeeded in finding.

he sighed as he placed his bag on the wooden bench before making his way to her. “i missed you, and i want to do everything i can to take you back.” he truthfully spat out.

“i'll be honest, i missed you too. but i'm tired of listening to your empty promises,” she expressed emotionally.

he took a moment to look at her before responding, “you moved back in with your mother?”

“stop changing the topic and actually show that you care!”

without hesitation, he wrapped his muscular arms around her frame. “i'm so sorry, please forgive me, y/n. i really do love you more than anything, even boxing. i promise i'll be more present instead of shutting you out.”

• • •

cheers emerged from the surrounding crowd as they intently watched the fight. park sunghoon was in the lead, having a bigger chance of winning the championship.

everyone was pushing, trying to get to the front. y/n watched from the lounge area for special guests, equally thrilled to see the outcome although she already predicted it.

the buzzer went off as the two competitors stood up and walked over to each side of the referee. anticipation filled the atmosphere.

the referee raised sunghoon's hand, declaring him as the winner and handing him the belt. however, all he could think about was getting to his girlfriend.

he ran as fast as he could and embraced her tightly. “i won, i won for you baby. i'm going to be out of training for a while now!”

they celebrated together with a sweet but passionate kiss.

in the end, the two of them made the perfect pair.

[kingkat12]

so... this is the deleted original ending to the first chapter of seven minutes in heaven. made centuries ago. enjoy!!

(it sorta starts in the middle of the closet scene, so here goes nothing)

WARNINGS: SMUT! SMUT! ROMAN BEING AN ASSHOLE! mind control powers being used for BAD bad bad BAD things!! implied mind control during sex so is it dub-con?, dark!Roman, not-so-happy-ending

word count: 1,811

a/n: there was a reason this version was scrapped... it felt too dark and not fun and urgh i'm simply posting this as an ancient artifact lol. it might suck as i wrote this back in august, but oh well!!!

(Roman is NOT a feminist in this one, so... irony<333 generalizing cunt)

 "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze. I couldn't look at him, not right not, not when we were this close and alone. 

"So..." Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, and he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've wanted to try out, now's the time."

My breath hitched, hoping the thumping of my heart wasn't audible to him. 

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman, and I knew she'd be against it.

However... I was being served my biggest dream on a platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again? 

I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he wasn't holding a needle or no. That was when I knew my anxiety was through the roof. "So... you want a kiss? That's all?"

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would say no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he wouldn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what it was that I was actually asking of him. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system. 

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry overcome me— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

I shouldn't have been so shocked— I should've expected this. I should've known that Roman would spin this around on me. I definitely knew he wouldn't reciprocate, but this? What was it, revenge? 

"I could make your every waking moment a living hell," he continued, his cold hands suddenly travelling up my body, gripping my waist with a grip I was afraid would bruise. "Letha would take my side, of course... Who else do you have but her, hm?"

I wanted to break out into tears, now grabbing at his hands. Almost panicked, I tried to get him off of me, but to no avail. "I'll leave you alone," I pleaded, finding his eyes.

"Nah, that's not what I want," I could see the sadistic satisfaction overcome him— I saw how he broke out into a wide grin at the sight of my glossy eyes. "How about we make a deal?"

Making a deal with the devil reincarnated? Very smart move, on my part. Fucking genius. "Okay?"

Roman hummed, his harsh grip around my waist releasing, allowing me to finally suck in a heave of air. Catching me off guard, he suddenly pressed his lips against my forehead with the softest touch I had ever felt— was he trying to throw me off course? 

"Start being nice..." Roman murmured, his now hands drawing soothing circles onto my back. "And I will reward you."

I let out a shaky breath; I was thankful that the agreement didn't involve any needles. "... That's all?"

"That's all," Roman echoed, pulling away to watch my expression. "You and your mouth have been making my life hell, do you know that? So if you can calm the fuck down, we could both get what we want. How does that sounds?"

I wasn't completely sold. "And what is it that you think I want?"

Roman's eyes darkened; he knew he had won. "Me," 

Oh, how I hated him. I hated him, and I knew I always would. But as his lips ghosted over mine, seconds away from touching, I didn't stand a chance anymore when the following words sounded past his plush lips; "I have a feeling I might have to put you in your place a little, hm? Maybe you'd even want that? Because honestly, I know girls like you... You fight until your last breath, then you're completely in denial, and then you'll fall apart the minute you get what you've always wanted,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this... me? 

"And you've always wanted to be one of my girls, haven't you?" Roman leaned down, pressing a deadly soft kiss against my cheek which nearly took my breath away; I could feel him smirk against my skin. "Or maybe... the only one?"

At this point, I felt so broken down that I gave in to a nod. 

Roman's hand slowly ghosted up my body until his fingers gently wrapped around my neck, holding me in place, almost as though he feared I would run; "I can arrange that, y'know?"

This conversation had unlocked a deep, dark part of me that I didn't know I had— like this, completely at his mercy, I had a feeling I was made to be his. Brainwashed. That I was put on this earth to find him and be with him, and that we were destined to be together. It made me feel so weak and pathetic that my lower lip eventually gave in to a quiver, feeling a sob build.

Roman let go of my neck, stroking his fingers through my hair. "Shh, no need for that... You're fine, you're okay. It's just me."

Just me. Just Roman. He who that had haunted my dreams for months, the only one I could think of when I got myself off, and the one I had been longing for from afar for so long that it turned into burning hate. 

Roman must've felt like he was done torturing me, finally meeting my lips with the most gentle kiss I had ever shared. This was all I had ever wanted— he was right. My heart beat hard in my chest as I let myself melt against his dangerously soft lips. 

I wanted to be his, no matter the cost. No matter what happened or what I had to sacrifice. 

I loved Roman Godfrey.

... and I was sure of it now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Yes— This was right.

Of course. 

I loved him. 

I loved him, I loved him, God, how I loved him. With every fibre of my being, I loved him. 

I loved the feeling of his body against mine, corrupting my mind until I was nothing but mindless. A small part of me also loved that it was our little secret, and ours only. 

Letha didn't have a clue, of course— I had kept my act up quite well when I was around her. I had kept it up around everyone else as well, but the anger that was ravaging through my system, the hate that was burning me up from inside was currently being mended by one thing and one thing only;

"A-Aah—"

My fingers tangled into Roman's hair, feeling his bruising grip around my hips tighten as he fucked me into my mattress. I let out a small cry, feeling my legs starting to go numb after how long they had been thrown over his broad shoulders. Deep down, I didn't care— nothing could put out the angry fire in my soul like Roman did. Nothing was a better remedy than feeling his cock inside me, no matter what, when, or where.

I let out a gasp as Roman shifted, pulling me into his lap with ease. I couldn't feel my legs now, and I had a sense that he knew— he barely had to put any strength into moving me around, especially with how he was towering over me in general. 

I let out a gasp as he sunk me down on his length, and I gripped his shoulders with a short squeak for support. Heavy breaths escaped my parted lips as I clung to him, whimpering at the feeling of his thick cock stroking my insides. 

Roman seemed beyond content, gazing up at me with half-lidded eyes. He revelled in the sight of how ruined I was before he attached his soft lips to my collarbone to bring forth a hickey, humming. That was the one place we both knew Letha wouldn't see it, after all. 

It was impossible not to submit to the devil reincarnated when sex could feel this good with him. It didn't matter that I had practically sold my soul for this, because every second, every stroke of his cock, was worth it. 

"You're heaven," he murmured, lifting my hips and pushing himself further into me, taking more control. "You feel so... shit, this is heaven—"

Ironic.

And just as I felt my climax approaching, flashes of thoughts I had suppressed came crashing forward. No matter how nice all of this felt, I couldn't help but wonder how I had even agreed to any of this in the first place. But it wasn't like he had mind control powers, right? It wasn't like this was some sadistic ploy to seek revenge against all the times I had been a complete and utter bitch to him.

No— it couldn't be. Don't be ridiculous.

... Right?

[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?

view all comments

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'

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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?

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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

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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

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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.

[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

[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

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Where Seungcheol is your bestfriend with benefit, and after you agree to go on a date with a guy, Seungcheol has a jealous crisis. And during the date, you realize that going out with this guy was a mistake. — WC: 5.8K — WARNINGS: Smut, slut/whore shamming, angst, argument, jealousy, "you are mine", unprotected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), flashbacks, penetrative sex, fingering, clit stimulation, chocking, hair pulling, cock/face slap, multiple orgasms, creampie, begging, overwhelming, confession and etc.

You apply the final touch of lipstick, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back looks confident, ready, but you can’t ignore Seungcheol’s presence behind you. He’s perched on your couch, arms crossed, a pout that reminds you of a child denied his favorite candy.

"What's going on, Seungcheol?" you ask.

"This guy is no good," he replies, his voice tinged with frustration.

You mumble, "Yes, yes, you've told me plenty of times."

He leans forward, eyes intense. "Then why are you going on this date?"

You stay quiet, fiddling with the makeup on the desk. He presses on, "How long have you been talking to him?"

You don't answer, the silence thick between you. Suddenly, he stands, crossing the room in a few strides. He turns you around, pushing you gently but firmly against the desk. His breath is warm on your neck.

"Why won't you answer me?" he demands softly.

"Seungcheol, it's... complicated," you murmur, avoiding his gaze.

"Complicated?" he echoes, his grip on your shoulders tightening just a bit. "We used to talk about everything. You've always been open about your flings, but now..." He trails off, searching your eyes for answers.

"But now we're fucking, Seungcheol!"

"And? What's your point?"

"Why do you care now?" you retort, your voice tinged with irritation. "When you were fucking with Mingyu's sister, I didn't say anything!"

Seungcheol's shock is evident, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he manages to sputter, "We weren't... we weren't fucking!"

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Come on, Seungcheol. You think I'm blind? That girl couldn't keep her hands off you."

"We were just... hanging out," he insists, his tone growing louder.

"Hanging out?" you repeat, incredulous. "That's the best excuse you've got?"

Seungcheol's frustration bubbles over, his voice rising to match yours. "What's wrong with you, huh? Why do you care so much about who I'm with?"

"Why do you care so much about who I'm with?" you shoot back, your own anger rising. "You're the one who started this whole thing, remember?"

"And you accept it!" Seungcheol shouts, his frustration boiling over.

You push past him, heading in the direction of the door, but he grabs your arm, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are filled with anger, his jaw clenched tight.

"I can't believe you," he says through gritted teeth. "After everything I said, after all the warnings... you're just going to go through with it anyway?"

"Let go," you snap, trying to wrench your arm free.

He holds on, his voice low and intense. "If this guy does anything, anything at all, you call me. Understand?"

You meet his gaze, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes. Despite the argument, despite the tension, you know he means it.

"I hear you."

With that, he releases your arm and turns away, striding out of the apartment without another word. You watch him go, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest.

You sat across from your date, but your mind was elsewhere. The words exchanged with Seungcheol echoed in your head, drowning out any attempt at conversation. It was like you were just there physically, your mind a million miles away. – a date that meant nothing to you.

He tried to make small talk, but you could barely muster a response. Every smile felt forced, every laugh hollow. You couldn't enjoy the date, not when the weight of the argument with Seungcheol still hung heavy in your mind. 

When your phone buzzes with a message from Seungcheol, you jump, almost knocking over your drink. You quickly glance at the screen, your heart skipping a beat when you see his name.

"Are you home already?" the message reads.

You glanced at the time, realizing that it had been hours since you left the date early, claiming that you needed to go home. With a heavy sigh, you typed out a response: "Yes, I'm home."

After those messages, Seungcheol practically disappeared. Usually, your weekends were marked by his presence—his calls, his texts, him showing up at your front door with that familiar, easy smile. But this weekend, there was nothing. Not a single word from him.

By the time Tuesday rolled around, the silence was deafening. You took a long bath, trying to relax, but the empty space where Seungcheol's presence used to be was impossible to ignore. As you lay on your bed, you felt the temptation to pick up your phone and text him, just to break the silence.

The truth was, now that he wasn't around, everything seemed to remind you of him. The way he laughed, the way he teased you, the comfort of his touch and the warmth of his words. You realized how much you needed him—not just in your routine, but in your life. The thought of reaching out to him tugged at you, but your ego stood in the way.

Was it worth it? Was holding onto your pride worth the growing emptiness you felt without him?

You stared at the ceiling, the questions swirling in your mind. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling heavier than the last. You picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen.

You dialed his number, putting the phone to your ear. The line beeped twice before he picked up, his voice coming through fast, "Y/N?"

Hearing his voice, you closed your eyes and sighed. "Cheol..." you murmured, the nickname slipping out naturally.

On the other end, you heard Seungcheol's breath hitch. He knew you only used that nickname when you were feeling particularly vulnerable, and he wondered if you needed him now. But he reminded himself to stay cold, at least for a moment—maybe you did need him. 

"What do you want, Y/N?" he asked, his tone carefully controlled.

You bit your lip, your heart pounding. "Where are you?" you asked, straining to hear the sounds of street movement in the background. He was definitely driving.

"I'm out," he replied curtly. "Why?"

"Out where?" you pressed, needing to know more.

He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and something else you couldn't quite place. "Just driving around. Needed to clear my head."

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to say what you needed to say. "Can you come over? I... I need to see you."

Another pause, longer this time. "Why, Y/N? Why now?"

"Because I miss you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "And because I can't stop thinking about you."

There was silence on the line, and for a moment, you feared he might hang up. But then you heard him exhale sharply. "I'll be there in ten."

The line went dead, and you lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling as your heart raced.

When Seungcheol knocked on your door, you practically flew to open it. The scent of his cologne, the one you loved so much, filled the air as soon as you pulled the door open. He stood there in a leather jacket, black jeans, and that shirt you always told him looked amazing on him.

You wasted no time pulling him inside, closing the door behind him, and wrapping your arms tightly around him. You jumped up a bit so he could hold your legs, and he caught you effortlessly, pulling you close.

As he hugged you, his warmth enveloped you, and you melted into his embrace. His hands caressed your moisturized skin, sending shivers down your spine as he admired the contrast of your delicate babydoll against his rugged street clothing.

For a moment, everything else faded away—the arguments, the doubts, the uncertainty.

"Cheol..." you murmur against his neck, your voice barely above a whisper. He hums in response, his breath warm against your skin. You can't bring yourself to look into his eyes, feeling a vulnerability swirling inside you.

Suddenly, he gently grabs your hair, tilting your head up so that you're forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense, searching, emotions you can't quite decipher. But in that moment, you feel like he's seeing right through you, seeing all the things you're too afraid to say out loud.

Without another word, you lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a desperate, longing embrace. His fingers press into the small of your back, pulling you closer, as he furrows his eyebrows, savoring the taste of your kiss like it's the first time all over again.

His tongue slips into your mouth, a silent plea for more, and you gladly oblige, deepening the kiss with every passing moment. Lost in each other, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he guides you towards the bedroom.

Seungcheol makes you sit on the edge of the bed, his hands deftly working to remove his leather jacket. You watch him, the strings of your babydoll falling from your shoulders as the fabric slides down, teasingly revealing hints of your curves.

Your lips are still stained red from the kiss, and your hair is slightly tousled from his grasp, but you can't tear your eyes away from him. There's a hunger in your gaze, a longing that mirrors his own, and he can't help but feel overwhelmed by it all.

As he stands before you, shirtless, he can't help but ask the question that's been burning in his mind since the moment he laid eyes on you. "Why do you do this to me?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "But I can't stay away from you."

You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Then don't," you whisper, your voice filled with a desperate plea. "Stay with me."

His eyes darken with desire as he pushes you back onto the bed, a hunger burning in his gaze. His hands move with purpose, swiftly removing your babydoll, and he scoffs softly when he realizes you're wearing nothing underneath.

As his hand slides down between your thighs, finding you already wet and ready for him, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His fingers move roughly against your sensitive folds, teasing and taunting you.

But instead of giving you what you crave, he teases you, his touch tantalizingly slow as he savors every moment.

"Seungcheol," you whimper, your voice pleading for more.

But he only smirks, his lips trailing kisses down your body as he continues to tease you, building the anticipation until you're practically begging.

"What? That guy couldn't handle you?" Seungcheol asks with a devilish grin, his voice laced with amusement.

"Fuck, don't ask about this right now," you plead, trying to focus on the sensations he's stirring within you.

But he tilts his head, his curiosity piqued. "Why not?" he asks innocently, his fingers entering your pussy with a deliberate slowness that makes you arch your back in pleasure.

"Because we didn't... we didn't fuck," you manage to stammer out, your breath catching as his fingers find just the right spot inside you.

Seungcheol hums in satisfaction, his lips trailing kisses along your neck as he continues to work you with his skilled fingers. "Did you kiss him then?" he murmurs against your skin.

You moan softly, the sensation overwhelming as his fingers brush against your g'spot. "N-no," you gasp out, your mind consumed with the pleasure he's giving you. "Oh my god, Seungcheol, please..."

The filthy sounds emanating from your pussy made you blush furiously, but Seungcheol only smirked, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "Why didn't you kiss him?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement, relishing in your struggle to answer as his fingers worked faster, driving you closer to the edge.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to form a coherent response amidst the overwhelming pleasure. "I-I don't know," you managed to gasp out, your breath hitching as his touch pushed you closer to the brink.

Seungcheol's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he continued to tease you relentlessly. "You don't know?" he repeated, his fingers working you with an expert precision that had you writhing beneath him.

You could barely think, let alone form a coherent response.

As Seungcheol's fingers entered and left you with lightning speed, you couldn't help but stare in disbelief at the blur of his forearm, moving so quickly it was almost a blur. Your back arched involuntarily as you let out a string of breathless "ah ah ah's," each one punctuated by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

Seungcheol knew exactly what he was doing, his movements calculated to drive you wild with ecstasy. 

Seungcheol knew you were close, could feel the tension building in your body with every movement of his hand. But just as you were on the brink of release, he stopped abruptly, leaving you panting and trembling with need.

"S-Seungcheol! No…"

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with frustration and desire, as he casually opened his jeans, a devilish grin playing on his lips. "You're trembling," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he watched your reaction.

Seungcheol takes his hard cock, slick with his own arousal, and grabs you by your hair roughly, pulling you close to him.

"You want this cock, don't you?" he growls, his breath hot against your skin. "You want my cock, you filthy little slut?"

You nod eagerly, your mouth hanging open in anticipation as you close your eyes, ready to take him in.

"That's it," he murmurs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he slaps his cock against your face, the sound echoing in the room. "You're such a fucking whore, begging for it like this."

You whimper at his words, the intensity of his desire fueling your own. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each slap of his cock against your face, and the way he bites his lip, the need for him consuming you completely.

"Tell me you want it," he demands, his grip on your hair tightening. "Tell me you want my cock inside you."

"I want it," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want your cock, Seungcheol. Please, give it to me."

With a satisfied smirk, he positions himself at your mouth, ready to give you exactly what you've been begging for. And as he thrusts forward, filling your mouth with his hard length, you can't help but moan in ecstasy, knowing that this is exactly where you belong.

Seungcheol's mouth falls agape, his face contorted in pleasure as you take him in so eagerly. He watches in awe as you moan around him, your hands sliding over his abs, making his skin shiver in your hands.

His frown quickly turns into a smirk of satisfaction, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels the warmth of your mouth enveloping him completely. He can't help but marvel at how good you feel, how perfectly you fit him, as he rocks his hips gently.

You continue to moan around him, your hands exploring every inch of his body, fueling his desire even more. 

"This mouth..." Seungcheol's voice is low and possessive as he tugs at your hair, his grip firm but not unkind. "This mouth is mine. Mine to kiss, mine to fuck."

With that declaration, he guides himself into your throat, the sudden invasion making your nose hit his pelvis. He holds you there for a moment, relishing the sensation of being engulfed by your warmth, before you instinctively gulp around him.

For a moment, he holds you there, the sensation of your throat tightening around him making him hiss in pleasure. You gulp around him, his grip tightens as he savors the moment.

"You're so fucking good at that,"

Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he pulls you off, a trail of saliva connecting you to him as he looks down at you with dark, hungry eyes. The sight of you—lips swollen, eyes glazed with lust—only fuels his desire further. He knows he's claimed you, body and soul, and there's nothing in the world that could feel more right.

Seungcheol's hand wraps around your throat, his grip firm but not too tight, creating a delicious pressure that makes you gasp for air. He pushes you further up the bed, his eyes locked onto yours with rage. His fingers around your neck feel like a beautiful, sinful necklace, a reminder of the control he holds over you in this moment.

"You have no idea how fucking mad you made me," he growls, his voice low and rough with emotion. "You drive me insane, Y/N. Always pushing my buttons, always making me want you more than anything."

As he confesses his frustration, you feel the head of his huge cock pressing against your entrance, stretching you slowly, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and tears slip down the sides of your face, mingling with the intense pleasure and the sweet pain of his grip on your throat.

"I can't stand it when you're with someone else," he continues, his thrusts slow and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him. "You belong to me. This body, this mouth, this pussy—all mine."

You gasp, the pressure of his cock stretching you almost too much to bear, but the feeling is intoxicating. "Seungcheol," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure.

He tightens his grip on your throat just a bit more, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his dominance. "Do you feel that, Y/N? Do you feel how perfectly you fit around me? You're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

He opens your legs wider, thrusting roughly inside you, the force of his movements making you scream. Your hands reach out, one gripping his arm while the other clutches the sheets with white-knuckled intensity. The pleasure and pain blend together, making it almost impossible to form coherent thoughts.

"Tell me you're mine," he demands, his voice a low growl. You stay quiet, the words caught in your throat, as if you couldn't hear him over the pounding of your heart and the relentless rhythm of his thrusts.

"Say it," he insists, his tone more forceful now. When you still don't respond, he suddenly stops, his cock buried deep inside you, his balls pressed tight against your cunt. The sudden stillness makes you sob with the force of the pressure, feeling him pressing against your g'spot, the sensation almost painful in its intensity. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, a testament to the power he holds over you.

Seungcheol glances down at you, his gaze hard and unwavering. He grabs your jaw, holding it firmly as he shakes your head slightly. "Say it," he repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

Between the overwhelming pleasure and the sharp edge of suffering, you manage to give him a sly smile, defiance flickering in your eyes. He narrows his gaze, recognizing the challenge in your expression.

Without warning, he delivers a sharp slap to your face, the sting of it sending a shock through your system. "Say it," he demands again, anger and desperation, his control slipping.

The slap jolts you back to reality, the raw intensity of the moment piercing through the haze. "I'm yours," you finally manage to gasp, your voice cracking.. "All yours, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol contains a smile, the satisfaction in his eyes unmistakable. He gives you another two light slaps on your face, the stinging sensation making your skin tingle. Then, with a show of his strength, he effortlessly flips you over, treating you like a doll, positioning you exactly how he wants.

Your chest presses against the mattress, your face buried in the sheets as you feel his hands gripping the meat of your ass, spreading you open for him. The vulnerability make your heart race, every nerve in your body on high alert.

Seungcheol's fingers dig into your flesh, holding you firmly as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes into you slowly at first, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him. Once he's fully inside, he pauses, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice a rough whisper of desire. "You feel so fucking good."

You can barely respond, your mind lost in the sensation of him filling you completely. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

"You're mine," he growls, his pace quickening, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. "Say it again."

"I'm yours," you moan, your voice muffled by the mattress. "Seungcheol."

He lets out a satisfied grunt, his fingers gripping your hips tightly as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. The intensity of his movements drives you closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the force of his thrusts.

Seungcheol's hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair and pulling your head back slightly. "Don't forget it," he hisses, his breath hot against your ear. "You're mine, and I'll never let you go."

You moan undone, your breathless praise slipping from your lips—"That is so good, so good"—but before you can finish your sentence, you're cut off by a sharp thrust that makes you scream. 

Seungcheol coos,"I doubt anyone can find it like I do." 

He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling your head back so you're forced to arch your back, your screams echoing in the room as he hits just the right spot again and again. 

You can feel the tension building inside you, the need for release becoming almost overwhelming. "S-Seungcheol," you gasp out, your voice a desperate plea for more.

But he just smirks, his movements becoming even more precise, more calculated. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, and he's reveling in every moment of it.

Seungcheol is fucking you so hard that tears stream down your face, your body trembling with the intensity of his thrusts. You're almost afraid to lose yourself completely, to let go of all control.  Just when you think it can't get any more intense, his hands find your clit, and you can't help but squirm under his touch.

You whimper as he pulls you up against his chest, his fingers flicking your clit rapidly as he watches your reaction with dark, hungry eyes.

To make matters worse—or better, depending on how you look at it—his hand on your clit, sends jolts of pleasure through your already overloaded senses. You squirm and writhe beneath him, the stimulation almost too much to bear.

Your eyes roll back in your head, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggle to hold on to your sanity. "Breath," he demands, his voice a rough growl in your ear.

You try to comply, but the overwhelming pleasure makes it difficult to focus on anything else. "I-I can't," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's too much."

Seungcheol notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the absence of your usual moans and the way you've gone completely still, holding your breath as if frozen in time. Concern flashes across his face, his movements slowing as he registers the subtle signs of your impending climax.

"Y/N?" he murmurs, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern, his fingers stilling against your clit. 

But you're lost, cumming, –almost chopping his dick off with your tight cunt– your body trembling with the force of your release, unable to respond to his touch or his words. You feel like you're floating, weightless and breathless, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins.

With a gentle touch, he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have gathered in the corners of your eyes. 

You try to respond, to reassure him that you're fine, that you're just overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure he's giving you. But all that comes out is a strangled whimper, your body still convulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Seungcheol's worry deepens, and he pulls you closer against his chest, holding you tightly as he strokes your hair soothingly. "Shh, it's okay," he murmurs, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Just breathe, baby. I've got you."

A strangled moan escapes your lips as your body softens against Seungcheol's, the intensity of your release leaving you jelly-like in his arms. Concern still lingering in his eyes, he asks softly, "Did you cum?"

You manage a breathless "Yes," a dizzy smile spreading across your lips as you gaze up at him.n "Are you going to fill me up this time?" 

Seungcheol's cock twitches at your words, the desire in his eyes almost palpable as he stutters out a response. "I-I... Are you sure?" he asks, his voice husky with need.

You swirl your hips against him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you feel him grow even harder beneath you. His sharp intake of breath is all the answer you need, a silent confirmation of his desire.

"Please," you whisper, your voice barely a breath as you press your body against his, your hands trailing down his neck to grip his hips.

You always asked Seungcheol to fill you up, but he always denied. But now, as he presses you against the bed once again, you lie sideways, feeling his cock slide deep inside you. Your pussy is even tighter around him this time, the sensation almost overwhelming.

You glance up at him, doing that little face you know he loves—biting your lip, furrowing your eyebrows just so. His face contorts in pleasure and frustration when he sees you like this, and he lets out a string of curses.

"Fuck you, Y/N," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Fuck you, why are you like this? Shit."

You can't help but smile, biting your lip as you watch the emotions play across his face. It's a game you both love to play.

Deep down, you knew that you messed with him, and deep down, he knew it too. It was a dynamic between you two that you couldn't deny. You loved to tease him, to push his buttons and see how far you could go, because it ignited something primal in both of you.

You loved the way he reacted to your teasing, the way his control slipped just a little more with each provocative glance or suggestive comment. And he, in turn, reveled in the challenge you presented, the way you pushed him to his limits and beyond.

In your mind, a film passed by, a vivid flashback to a night when you both decided to let your touches get wilder.

Seungcheol's hand gripped your tit, his lips trailing hot kisses along your neck as you moaned uncontrollably. You couldn't help but grind your clothed pussy against his clothed cock, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

Suddenly, Seungcheol stopped, his grip tightening on your hips as he looked at you with a mix of desire and uncertainty. "No, no we—" he started to say, but you continued moving your hips, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Seungcheol," you gasped, your voice filled with need as you begged him to continue. He was reluctant, hesitant, but you could feel the tension building between you, the desire simmering just beneath the surface.

His hips mirrored your thrusts, a silent admission of the desire burning within him. 

He took all of your clothing, stripping you bare as he worshipped your body with his mouth. The sensation of his lips and tongue on your pussy was too much, bringing tears to your eyes as he gave his everything to please you.

You arched your back against his couch, your toes curling with pleasure as you moaned his name over and over again. Seungcheol's gaze never left yours, his eyes dark with desire as he savored every reaction, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips.

"Seungcheol, d-don't stop! Please, please!" your voice echoed in his mind, focusing on making you cum on his tongue, making you mark him with your essence. 

–

"Y/N, you slut," Seungcheol pants, his voice heavy with desire and frustration. He thrusts into you, his body trembling with the effort, his expression a mixture of pleasure and suffering. His mouth hangs open, his hair clinging to his face with sweat as he continues to drive into you relentlessly.

"You only make me suffer," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "But fuck, I can't help but want you. Every time I'm with you, I–"

You cut off his confession, your breath hitching as you feel another wave of pleasure building inside you. "I'm... I'm cumming again," you gasp out, the sudden declaration sending you hurtling towards the edge with newfound intensity.

Seungcheol's eyes widen with surprise at your abrupt interruption, but he doesn't miss a beat. He grips your hips tighter, his thrusts becoming even more relentless as he drives you towards the brink of ecstasy once again.

You glance up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, trying to keep them open despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. His moans mingle with yours, the sound filling the room as you both surrender to the ecstasy of the moment.

And then, with a shuddering cry, you feel yourself tumbling over the edge once again, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Seungcheol's movements become more erratic, more desperate, as he reaches his own peak, painting your insides with his hot cum.

His body almost collapses on top of yours, but he sustains himself with one arm, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rides out the last throes of his climax. You clench and unclench around him, milking him for every drop of cum as you let out a relieved moan, the hot cum filling you like a reward.

As Seungcheol quietly gets up and heads to the bathroom, leaving you alone, you can't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you. It's unlike him to leave so abruptly after sex, especially when he usually prefers to linger, basking in the intimacy of the moment.

You wait for a moment, hoping that he'll return soon, but when he doesn't, your concern grows. Something doesn't feel right, and you can't shake the feeling that there's more to his sudden departure than meets the eye.

With a sense of trepidation, you push yourself up from the bed and make your way to the bathroom, your footsteps echoing in the quiet of the room. You hesitate for a moment outside the door, unsure of what you'll find on the other side.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you push open the door and step inside. The bathroom is dimly lit, the only source of illumination coming from the soft glow of the overhead light.

You find Seungcheol standing in front of the sink, his back turned to you as he splashes water on his face. His shoulders are tense, his movements stiff and mechanical, as if he's trying to wash away the weight of the world.

"Seungcheol?" you call out softly, your voice breaking the silence of the room.

He startles at the sound of your voice, his movements faltering for a moment before he turns to face you. His eyes are shadowed, his expression unreadable as he meets your gaze.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concern lacing your words as you step closer to him.

He hesitates for a moment, as if debating whether or not to confide in you, before finally nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

But you can tell by the tension in his body, by the haunted look in his eyes, that he's anything but fine.

"I'm sorry for being a slut who makes you suffer," you say softly, your words heavy with remorse as you acknowledge the pain you've caused him. Deep down, you know that his hurt stems from your actions, from the tumultuous dynamic between you that often leaves both of you reeling.

But before you can dwell on your apology, Seungcheol rushes to reassure you, his words coming out in a hurried rush. "No, no, you're not," he insists, his voice firm as he looks at you with a mixture of concern and affection.

You exhale softly, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at his words. But before you can say anything else, the confession spills out of you, unstoppable now that you've opened the floodgates.

"I blocked him," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Hm?" Seungcheol's head tilt, confused.

"The guy from the date. Actually, I couldn't think about anything else but you, Seungcheol. That date... I wasn't even paying attention to that guy. I just wanted you. I'd rather have stayed with you that day, but I left, and I hurt you–"

But before you can finish your confession, Seungcheol cuts you off by pulling you into a tight embrace. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go, as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "It's okay, Y/N-nie," he murmurs, "I understand. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

Seungcheol hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing with uncertainty as he asks, "Am I being selfish if I say that I want you to be mine, and no one else?"

You chuckle softly at his question, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. "Not at all," you reply, your voice gentle and reassuring. "I want to be yours, Seungcheol. No one else."

A flicker of relief passes over his features at your words, but there's still a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "But... is it okay for me to want that?" he asks, his voice tinged with insecurity.

You smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Of course it is," you murmur against his mouth. "In fact, it's more than okay. It's what I want too."

Seungcheol's eyes widen in surprise at your words, his expression softening with a mixture of disbelief and joy. "Really?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, your smile widening as you take his hand in yours. "Really," you confirm.