#✦ him. who is love itself ~ (💌) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 27 days ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - NINE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of leukemia; death; pregnancy; abortion.

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe had been through a ton of traumatic bullshit by the age of fourteen.

His mom had been battling leukemia since he was ten, it started off as an infection—but it turned into one of those long, drawn-out wars that tricks you into thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.

It would go away for a bit, just enough to make everyone think the fight was over, and then it’d come slamming back worse every time.

When he was fourteen, it finally took her for good, when he’d been silly enough to believe she might pull through.

To be fair, he was only a little kid waiting on a miracle, praying she’d wake up one day magically cured.

Now, when he looked back on it, he hated himself for being so naive. The signs had been there all along, the nurses whispering in the hallways, Ward turning into this void of a human, who looked at him like he didn’t know how to fix it anymore. The talks his mom would have with him about how “no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

That phrase haunted him for years.

Her death didn’t wreck him; it tore him apart and left him in tiny pieces that didn’t fit together the same way. He wasn’t the same kid afterward, not even close.

He got angrier, distant.

He didn’t recognize who he’d been before it all—some kid who really believed in happy endings.

He didn’t believe in much after she died, people let you down, life ripped everything good out of your hands. Why bother holding on to anything at all?

It wasn’t just the grief; it was the guilt.

He’d get mad at her, sometimes, for being sick. He’d slam his door and cry into his pillow because he just wanted a normal life, a mom who wasn’t always tired or in pain or hooked up to some machine.

He hated himself for that.

The day of her funeral, he remembered everything, even though he wished he didn’t. The church smelled like old wood and lilies, that smell that never left you once it sank in.

People kept coming up to him, patting his shoulder, saying things like, “She’s in a better place now,” or “Stay strong, buddy.”

He wanted to yell at them, shake them, make them shut up. She wasn’t in a better place. A better place would’ve been here, alive, laughing at his dumb jokes, or rolling her eyes at him for leaving his shoes in the hallway. It wouldn’t be six feet under, locked in a box, shoved into a hole in the ground like she never existed.

He didn’t cry, not when they opened the casket for everyone to say their final goodbyes, not when his dad stood up and choked through some half-assed speech that was mostly apologies and memories, not when they lowered her into the ground, the ropes creaking as her casket disappeared into the earth.

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn’t even present. Inside, though?

His his chest was on fire.

He refused to let even a single tear fall, it felt pointless, it wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. And deep down, he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, if he’d been stronger if he’d prayed harder, or been a better son, she’d still be alive.

The sound he remembered the most was the thud of dirt hitting the coffin after the service. It was final, loud, the earth itself mocking him. People around him sniffled, hugged each other, wiped at their eyes, but Rafe just stood there, staring down into the hole, fists buried in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms.

He kept thinking about how wrong this all was, this wasn’t where she was supposed to end up, and none of this was fair.

She should’ve been there.

She should’ve been standing next to him, arm around his shoulder, telling him to stop slouching, whispering something to make him laugh in the middle of all this sadness. Instead, she was in there, soon the dirt would cover it up, and that’d be it.

Gone. Just like that.

After the service, Rafe didn’t try to stick around for the house gathering, he wasn’t going to survive that. All those people crowding the living room, balancing paper plates of casserole, acting like they gave a fuck about his mom. It was fake, all of it.

They’d forget about her in a week.

He slipped out when no one was paying attention, cutting through the side yard and heading to the only place that felt halfway normal—the old skate park behind the rec center. It was run-down as fuck, but he and his friends used to hang out there all the time, sitting on the busted ramps, talking trash, or just doing nothing.

When he got there, it was empty, which was exactly what he wanted. He climbed up on the old half-pipe, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement below.

He couldn’t stop replaying the day in his head, the casket, the dirt, the stupid better place comments. His chest felt like it was breaking in a million tiny pieces, but he still couldn’t cry, his body just wouldn’t let him.

Instead, he just sat there, wishing the world would leave him alone for five minutes.

That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.

He thought about running—didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially not now. But then you spoke.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? Well, congrats. You win the prize.”

He wasn’t in the mood to be nice, even to you.

But you didn’t flinch, you never did. That’s one of the things he liked about you—you didn’t get scared off when he got like this. You just climbed up next to him and sat down.

You didn’t try to say all that comforting bullshit people had been feeding him all day, and he was grateful for that.

“You okay?” you asked eventually.

He snorted. “Do I look okay?”

"Sorry, stupid question."

He sighed, hating that he was being asshole to his best friend, "It's fine."

When he finally glanced at you, you were watching him, trying to figure out what to say. It made him nervous, the way you looked at him. You always did that—you cared about what was going on in his head, you saw more than what he let people see.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I know what you’re feeling,” you said finally. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Rafe. You know that, right?”

If only you knew what you would be going through just three short years later.

He wanted to snap at you, tell you to leave, he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared down at the pavement again, “Feels like I do.”

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer, close enough that your arm brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel…something, less alone.

Rafe didn’t know how long you both sat there, could’ve been ten minutes, could’ve been an hour. Time didn’t feel real anymore, you didn’t push him to talk, which he appreciated more than he’d ever admit, you didn’t throw out any of those awkward “it’ll get better” lines. You just sat with him.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

He shook his head without looking at you. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice was rough, flat. “She’s gone. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck."

He clenched his jaw, staring at the pavement like if he looked at you, everything would break.

“What’s the point?” he muttered. “Crying’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back.

“Rafe.” You sighed, and this time “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone, okay? It’s me.”

That broke him, actually broke him. His chest felt tight, suddenly he couldn’t keep it in.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shook, and before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. He tried to stop it, to hide it, scrubbing his hands over his face, but it was no use.

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice cracking once more.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, and before he could pull away or do something stupid like tell you to leave, you scooted over.

He froze for a second, unsure what to do, but then he remembered the funeral, the whispers, the dirt hitting the casket, all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about—he just let it all out.

The first sob ripped out of him so suddenly it startled him, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair, as if he could physically stop himself from breaking. But it didn’t work.

Another sob followed, and then another, and soon they were pouring out of him—loud, messy, completely out of his control. He couldn’t stop it, and he hated it.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and just cried. When he felt your arms instantly wrap around him, pulling him into a hug as if you’d been waiting for his permission, he shattered completely.

“She’s—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to stop, gasping for air as the tears kept coming. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” He broke off.

It was ugly and loud and nothing like how he’d pictured himself breaking down, but he didn’t care. You didn’t tell him it’d be okay or try to make him stop, just held him, your arms tight around him.

“I miss her,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely sounded like him. “I miss her so much, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, and part of him hated how exposed it made him feel. He hated crying in front of people—anyone. But right now, with you, he didn’t feel embarrassed.

“I know,” you nodded, your hand moving in small circles on his back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t—this isn’t—it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you didn’t want to scare away the fragile pieces of him that were finally surfacing. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

He couldn’t stop shaking or gasping for breaths that hitched in his chest. The more he tried to push it all backdown, the harder it fought to claw its way out. For years, he’d kept it buried—buried so deep he thought he’d never have to deal with it.

“I hate it,” he managed, the words tumbling out in a jagged mess. “I hate that she’s gone. I hate that I didn’t—” He stopped, gripping his hair harder. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve been better, done something—anything.”

“Stop. You can’t do that to yourself.”

He shook his head violently, “But I did. I gave up on her. I stopped believing she’d get better, I—I got mad at her for being sick. What kind of son does that? I didn’t even say goodbye the way I should’ve. I just—I left the hospital because I couldn’t take it anymore, and then she—” His voice cracked again, and his hands dropped from his hair to his lap, clenched into fists “She’s gone, and I left. I wasn’t there when she—” His breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re a kid. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is.”

“But it feels like it is,” he shot back, “I should’ve done something, anything. I just feel so—” He stopped, letting out a shaky exhale. “Empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way you said it, so certain—He didn’t know why, but it cut through the noise in his head just enough to let him breathe again.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted, “I don’t know how t-to live without her.”

Growing up, Rafe had always been a momma’s boy.

She was his safe place—the one person who didn’t make him feel like he had to be someone else. With her, he didn’t have to try so damn hard to be tough, or perfect, or whatever the hell his dad wanted him to be.

Ward wasn’t the kind of dad who let his kids cry on his shoulder or told them he loved them every day. No, Ward was the kind of dad who believed in rules.

Men didn’t cry. Men didn’t show weakness. Men didn’t mess up—or, if they did, they sure as hell didn’t admit it.

He expected Rafe to follow those rules like they were gospel.

The worst part? His rules about what it meant to be a man stuck with Rafe, even when he didn’t want them to. When his mom got sick, he found himself choking back tears in the hospital bathroom, staring at his reflection and hearing Ward’s voice in his head: “Crying doesn’t solve anything. You’ve gotta be strong, for her, for your sisters.”

He had this idea in his head of what Rafe was supposed to be—strong, dependable, successful. He didn’t yell or lose his temper like some dads back then, he just made him feel like shit in this fucked up way.

Rafe tried, shit, he’d tried, but it felt impossible.

Every time he looked at his mom, pale and tired but still managing to smile at him like he was her whole world, he felt like he was dying too, then he’d feel guilty—for being so weak, for wanting to break down when she was the one fighting for her life.

It didn’t help that Ward had always had a soft spot for Sarah. Everyone could see it, even Rafe. She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one Ward went out of his way to protect.

If Rafe screwed up, it was a lecture or a punishment, but if Sarah did? Ward would just shake his head and say, “She’s still young. She’ll learn.”

It used to piss him off more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he hated her—she was his sister, and he loved her. But how could he not resent her? He felt invisible when she got all the attention and the understanding, while he was expected to man up and deal with it.

After her funeral, things changed.

Rafe became quicker to snap, to walk away from anything that felt too hard. He was only himself around you, behind closed doors, never for preying eyes. Sarah grew colder, retreating into her own world where everything was controlled and distant.

Every time they spoke, it ended in shouting matches, slamming doors, or long stretches of silence that neither of them attempted to solve.

Except when you were there.

Ward got even colder, the grief had frozen whatever part of him used to care. He threw himself into work, making sure Sarah was okay, and barely even looked at his son. When he did, it was usually to tell him to pull it together, or to stop being so “moody.”

Rafe started to wonder if he even cared that he was falling apart, if he ever noticed the nights Rafe stayed out too late or came home smelling like booze. If he saw the way he avoided talking to him, how he flinched whenever Ward brought up his mom. But if his dad noticed, he never said anything.

He thought it was just Rafe being Rafe—angry, unpredictable, a disappointment.

Fast forward to the present, and he hadn’t felt this helpless since that day at the funeral, not even when Ward’s died four months ago.

You weren’t in his life anymore—hadn’t been for a while and you were possibly pregnant.

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it made sense, everything lined up with that possibility. He thought back to everything you’d been through together, the times you’d been there for him when no one else was, how you’d seen the pieces of him no one else cared to.

Now, you were having his kid—and he was hearing about it from Topper?

Rafe spent the first hour after Topper dropped the news pacing his bedroom like a caged animal, his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he felt like a ticking time bomb.

The Rafe—the one who flew off the handle, yelled, broke things, and pushed people away—was begging to get out. But Topper’s voice kept replaying in his head, he had to act right, be calm, for your sake. To prove himself.

The problem was, that staying calm wasn’t his strong suit.

He’d spent years burying every emotion he couldn’t control under layers of anger, and now he was supposed to sit with the hurricane in his chest and figure out how to make things right.

For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

That night, he locked himself in his room, ignoring his phone, his friends, everyone. None of it mattered anymore, the only thing he could think about was you—and the baby.

He spent hours pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of what the fuck he was going to say.

What was he gonna say after everything he’d put you through? After the fight, the distance, the way he’d shut you out when you’d been nothing but good to him until that point?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head still in his hands, and let himself feel everything he’d been avoiding. The fear, the regret, the anger at himself. He thought about you—how you used to look at him like he wasn’t just a mess of a person, you’d stuck by him even when he’d given you every reason to leave.

You weren’t here anymore.

He’d pushed you so far away you hadn’t even told him about the situation yourself. Why would you anyway? He ghosted you and the next time you saw him he was with someone else. He could still see the look on your face when you saw him that night—arms slung casually around Sofia, while you sat in your car, eyes wild, you hadn’t tried to step outside, hadn’t yelled or made a scene, you simply drove off.

It wasn’t until an hour later and terrible text message to you, that drunk and pissed at himself, he realized just how badly he’d screwed up. But by then, the damage was done, and he’d been too much of a coward to fix it. What followed was a sea of bad decisions and nights he couldn’t remember, trying to drown out the ache of losing you.

He’d been drinking for Ward’s death until that point, now he did it for you.

Everything was catching up to him—the way he let his dad’s voice in his head drown out his own, making him let you slip through his fingers.

He didn’t deserve you—he knew that.

By sunrise, Rafe was still wide awake, sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by half-crumpled pieces of paper. He’d been trying to write down what he wanted to say to you, but everything sounded wrong. He’d never been good with words, not the kind that mattered.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t even close to being the kind of guy who could be a dad.

What the fuck did he know about raising a kid? Changing diapers? Teaching someone right from wrong? Being patient? But the thought of you—of you carrying his kid—hit him differently.

At first, it had been pure panic. You hated him, what if you didn’t want him involved? What if he was just like Ward—cold, distant, always expecting too much? What if he screwed the kid up the same way he felt like he’d been screwed up?

He pictured it without meaning to: you holding a tiny bundle in your arms, your face soft in a way he hadn’t seen in so long. A kid with your smile, your laugh—but his eyes. Or his messy hair. It scared the shit out of him.

What if she doesn’t even want to keep it?

Rafe hadn’t let himself go there at first, it was a lot to wrap his head around, the idea that there might not even be a child to fight for.

The thought of you going through this, struggling to make a choice that he couldn’t help with, made him feel useless.

Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and headed out, needing to clear his head. The island was silent this early, the kind of calm that used to make him feel trapped, but now, though, it was a relief. He drove aimlessly for a while, the salty air whipping through the open windows, until he found himself parked at the beach.

He didn’t know why he’d come here—well, you’d always bring him here when he spiraled. He sat there, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling a weird sort of clarity that he hadn’t felt in months.

Perhaps it was the silence, or the way the ocean didn’t care about all the fucking mess in his head, but something about it made him stop spiraling for a second.

He started to think about what Topper had said—not just about staying calm, but about proving to you that he still cared. That wasn’t something he could do with words alone, not after everything. He’d have to show you, he’d have to be the version of himself you used to believe in, the one who wasn’t ruled by his worst impulses.

Rafe knew the first step before he could even think about talking to you: he had to end things with Sofia. They weren’t official, but they might as well have been.

People talked, made assumptions, and sure, he’d let them. It was easier that way—less explaining, less having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that he’d only been with her to fill the empty space you left behind. It was cruel, but at the time, he hadn’t cared.

Sofia wasn’t you, but she was there, and more importantly, she didn’t expect anything from him. Keeping things going with her wasn’t just a bad idea; it was disrespectful. To you, to her, to himself. He couldn’t pretend he cared about her like that—not when his heart had never really left your orbit.

When he showed up at her place that morning before work, she didn’t seem surprised—not even a little. She’d seen the writing on the wall for weeks now, but tonight, seeing him standing there, just confirmed what she already knew.

She watched him like she was waiting for him to get to the point, but not impatiently—just resigned, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Can I come in?”

She let him in without a word, she wasn’t mad, not really. If anything, she felt sad—mostly for him, a little for herself. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive?

“You okay?” she asked quietly, she wasn’t being polite—she was trying to read him, figure out where this was going.

Rafe didn’t sit, didn’t take off his jacket. He stayed standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something.

She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Be honest.”

“This...this isn’t fair to you,” he started, his words tumbling out fast, “I should’ve been real with you from the start, but I wasn't," He swallowed hard, “You deserve better than me using you to forget someone else.”

Sofia didn’t say anything at first, just crossed her arms loosely, not making it easy for him, but she wasn’t making it harder, either.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” he continued, forcing himself to look at her. “It feels wrong and it’s not because of you. You’re great. You’ve been...you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that wasn’t quite happy but wasn’t cruel either. “But you’re still in love with her.”

He didn’t know why it shocked him—Sofia had always been perceptive—but hearing her say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I—” He hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“I knew,” She nodded like she’d been waiting for that confirmation. “I figured. I told myself it didn’t matter because—because I thought maybe you’d move on. Maybe I could help you move on. But you didn’t, and I—” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her arms tightened around herself.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, the movement almost casual.

“Because I really like you,” she admitted, “I knew. The party? When you got blackout drunk after seeing her leave? Or the country club, when you nearly started a fight defending her? I know you drove her to the hospital too. I kept hoping—God, I kept hoping you’d see me, that you’d let me be enough.”

He’d known she cared—he wasn’t blind—but hearing her saying like that made him realize just how he fucked up. She wasn’t wrong. He had been trying to numb himself, to drown out the reality of losing you, and she had been the collateral damage.

He looked away, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No,” she agreed, her tone firm but not unkind. “It wasn’t, but I don’t think you meant to hurt me either, you were trying to hurt yourself. It's still stupid of me to try, knowing you need to figure your shit out, but you don’t have to end things. I know what I signed up for, Rafe. I’m not asking you to choose me over her—I’m just asking you to try."

There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness—just exhaustion. It made him feel like a piece of shit because she deserved to feel angry, to lash out at him. But instead, she was still trying to give him a way out, a way to make this easier on himself.

“I’ll take whatever part of you I can get.”

It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was resigned. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help saying it out loud.

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. That’s not me.”

“Why not?” she pressed, her tone insistent.

“Because all of me already belongs to her,” Rafe admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “It always has, it always will.”

Sofia blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt—just...sad. She nodded slowly, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I hope she knows what she has, and I pray you show her," She stood up and motioning toward the door. “We both deserve better than a guy who drinks himself to death after seeing her at a party. So do you.”

Rafe didn’t move right away, unsure if he should say something more, apologize again, explain himself better.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Just do better.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he confessed, “I just—I didn’t know how to stop.”

Her expression softened just enough to show the tiniest sliver of empathy. “For what is worth, I think she still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now.” She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn around, “Next time, please don’t do this to someone else, and don’t do it to her again, either.”

She still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. The faint possibility, that you might still love him, it meant he had a chance but it also meant he could screw them up even worse.

He stood slowly, “Thank you,” he repeated,“For...everything.”

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded, opening the door and holding it for him. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and it wasn’t cold or angry—just sad.

By the time he got back to his car, he knew she wasn’t wrong, about any of it.

She hadn’t screamed or cried or made him feel like the asshole he knew he was, that made it worse. If his mom was here, she would’ve smacked him across he head for hurting two amazing women at the same time.

He hadn’t been ready to deal with his feelings for you—not when he started whatever the fuck it was with Sofia, not when he ran into you at that party, not when he defended you at the country club.

He’d been running, hiding, trying to bury everything under distractions that only made him feel emptier.

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and for a moment, it was like he was fourteen again, sitting on the edge of his mom’s hospital bed while his mom teased him.

“Come on, sweetheart” she’d said, her voice playful, even through the weariness. “You’ve been talking about her birthday for weeks. I think you like her more than you’re letting on.”

Rafe’s head shot up, and his ears burned red. “Mooomm,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “it’s not like that, she’s my best friend.”

“She’s your pretty best friend,” she’d corrected, smiling at him in that knowing way only she could. “You’re gonna pick out something nice for her, right?”

“I already did,” he mumbled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and holding it out like it was some great secret. Inside was a delicate bracelet he’d saved up for, something special, something he thought you’d like.

His mom’s smile had softened, the teasing fading into something more tender.

“She’s lucky to have you,” she’d said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Even if you are a little knucklehead sometimes.”

He’d ducked away, embarrassed but secretly pleased, tucking the box back into his pocket.

“M’m not a knucklehead,” he complained, but she just laughed, and it was one of the last times he remembered hearing her laugh like that—free, unburdened, just his mom.

“She’s a good one. You’ve got good taste.” Her smile softened, and the teasing faded into something gentler. “I hope I’m still around when you get married. I’d love to see you happy like that.”

The words were a punch he hadn’t expected. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say to that? He wanted to argue, to tell her she would be, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

She knew. She always knew.

He just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Me too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said without thinking because he meant it.

“When you find that person—really find them—don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

He nodded again.

Years later, standing in a stupid fucking car alone, those words haunted him. He’d found that person, he’d had her and he’d let her go.

“God,” he muttered, the self-loathing reaching a new high, “I’m so sorry, mom.”

As terrifying as it was to think about being a dad, to think about raising a kid when he was still trying to figure out his own life… the idea of losing this chance—of losing you, or the baby, or both, for good —scared him even more.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt something close to hope, but it was tainted in so much fear and uncertainty, that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The rest of the day, he forced himself to slow down.

He went back home, cleaned up the disaster of a room he’d been holed up in, and tried to think like a normal guy instead of a walking disaster. He even let Topper come over, though his patience for his relentless commentary wore thin fast.

“You’ve got one shot at this, dude,” Topper said, perched on Rafe’s desk like he owned the place. “If you go in there guns blazing, she’s just gonna think you’re the same old Rafe. And honestly? You can’t blame her.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue, Topper was right, as annoying as it was to admit.

He spent the evening coming up with a plan—just enough to make sure he didn’t go in blind. He practiced what he’d say in his head, pacing the kitchen while the sun sank below the horizon. Every time he started to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was doing this.

By the time 24 hours had passed, he didn’t feel ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of you sitting somewhere, thinking he really didn’t care or that he wouldn’t step up?

That was worse than any fear he had about facing you. So he grabbed his keys, and headed out, this time, he wasn’t running away.

Rafe stood by your door, he’d gotten in the property using the gate’s code, one he’d hoped you had changed to keep him out, but you hadn’t.

He’d never been good at patience, never needed to be—not when he could push his way into anything. But this was different, you were different, always had been.

The wood under his hand was cool, in a way that pissed him off because it reminded him that there was a barrier between you and him, again, always.

He wanted to scream, kick the fucking thing down like the old Rafe would’ve, or instead use the keys you’d given him years ago. Instead, he stood there, swallowing his pride because you were worth it, even if it was tearing himself in half.

His knuckles dragged down the frame, fist clenching as if the pressure would ground him, keep him from losing his shit. He wasn’t here to fight, wasn’t here to make your life harder, no matter how much you thought he was.

The door rattled slightly when he pressed his forehead against it, eyes squeezing shut. “Five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

His jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, not if he wanted you to open the door. He couldn’t do this anymore—the back-and-forth, the lies. He wasn’t sure what broke first—your resolve or the knot in his throat.

When you didn’t answer again, he sank to sit on the porch, back against the door like he could still feel you on the other side. You were there—close enough to touch if there wasn’t this fucking door between you.

That was his fault.

He used to be the guy you’d let in without thinking twice, shit, there was a time when he didn’t need to knock.

He was in, part of your life, part of you.

Now, you were holed up, scared of him. Yeah, that ate him alive. He’d earned that fear—every cold shoulder, the slammed door, he deserved it.

He should’ve been different, been better, been someone you didn’t have to lock out. You were scared, and it killed him because it wasn’t just fear, it was him. He was the reason you didn’t feel safe enough to let the secret out, the reason your voice cracked when you told him to leave.

He had put that look in your eyes, the one he couldn’t unsee, no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He could almost hear you breathing, shakily, like you were preparing yourself to outlast him.

He wanted to push. Fuck, he wanted to shove the door open, make you look at him, make you tell him everything—but that was the old Rafe, he took what he wanted, and bulldozed through whatever stood in his way.

Where had that ever gotten him? Nowhere but here: on the wrong side of a door, the wrong side of you.

He exhaled, long and slow, hand falling limp to his side.

What the hell was he doing? Forcing his way in, forcing answers—that wasn’t going to fix this. It never did. You’d push harder, build the walls higher, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of you hating him more than you already did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I get it.”

He didn’t know if you could still hear him, perhaps you were blocking him out completely. Maybe you were curled up with your hands over your ears. He hoped you weren’t crying, though the thought twisted and turned something deep in him.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, hating how defeated he sounded. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He ran a hand down his face, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together.

“I just... I just want you to be okay.” He hesitated, then pressed his palm flat against the door, wishing he could reach you somehow, without scaring you, “Baby or not.”

He waited, hoping for something—a sound, a movement, anything, but the silence was absolute.

His heart clenched as he pushed off the door and took a step back, his shoes scraping against the porch. He didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, almost to himself, "I'm so sorry. I’m sorry it took me this long, okay?”

He stopped halfway, looking back, hoping—praying—for some sign. A light flicking on, the sound of the door creaking open, your voice calling his name, anything.

But the house stayed still, it had already moved on from him.

He didn’t remember deciding to drive to Poguelandia; he felt it in his gut, in the pit of his chest, this pounding certainty that Sarah knew something he didn’t. You wouldn’t tell him—but Sarah? You’d chosen her to drive you home from the hospital just a few days ago.

She was the only person that could lie to his face properly, he couldn’t fucking figure her out, she was always deflecting shit wherever they talked.

By the time he pulled up to the pogues’ little hideaway, the sky had darkened, the place lit only by the glow of string lights and the hum of voices inside. He sat in the truck for a second, staring at the house, willing himself to calm down.

Barging in—loud, pissed, impulsive—wasn’t going to get him what he needed. But fuck, it was hard not to.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him with just enough force to feel better for half a second. The screen door creaked as he stepped up to the porch, and he could already hear them inside—Sarah’s laugh, JJ cracking some dumbass joke, the rest of them chiming in like they didn’t have a care in the world.

He hated this, hated how they all looked at him, as if he was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. They weren’t wrong.

Rafe knocked, hard and sharp, the laughter inside cut off instantly. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant. A second later, it swung open, and there she was, his sister, looking at him like he was the last person she wanted to see.

“Rafe,” she said, one hand still gripping the door. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Her brows pulled together, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low enough to keep from drawing the others’ attention. “Don’t make me say it in front of them.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the voices in the living room. “Rafe, I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his tone sharper than he meant. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften, to keep it together. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She glanced back again, then sighed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. He was already pacing, hands twitching at his sides, hardly able to contain the energy inside him.

The way she looked at him—wary, guarded—only made it worse.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, crossing her arms, like she was already bracing for a fight.

“My problem?” he barked out a laugh, sharp. “You really wanna play dumb right now? You’ve been keeping something from me, Sarah. I know you have.”

Her brows knit together, feigning confusion, “Dude. What’s this about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, stepping closer, “Don’t lie to me. I already know, okay? I know about the baby.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t confirm a thing, just stared at him like he was some wild animal.

“Where did you get the idea that she’s pregnant?”

His mouth opened, then closed. It felt wrong to snitch on Topper when he’d been one making him pry a little more.

“Well?” she pressed, “Answer me. How did you come up with that?”

Saying it out loud felt like admitting he’d been just as reckless and intrusive as everyone expected him to be. His hand ran over his face, trying to stall.

“I didn’t just make it up.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her patience waning. “No shit. So where, Rafe?”

He glanced away, then back, his voice defensive. “Topper said something, okay? He heard—he thought—” Rafe stopped, knowing how weak it sounded.

“Topper? You’re taking life advice from Topper now?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it!” Rafe was quick to defend him, “He just... he mentioned some things, and it got me thinking. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sarah repeated, “You barged over there because Topper mentioned ‘some things’ ? Jesus Christ.”

His hands flew up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t hear it? Ignore it and hope it went away? I needed to know!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sarah shot back. “You wanted to know. There’s a difference, and it’s the difference that keeps getting you into this shit.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe pointed a finger in his direction, “Like I’m crazy or something. I’m not stupid.”

"You’re just not worth the energy right now."

Instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Right. Sure. I can see it all over you, just say it."

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Neither does Topper.”

“Stop lying!” His voice rose, loud enough to echo into the dark yard. “Just stop. You know something.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Rafe thought he’d finally cracked her. Except instead of giving him what he wanted, she just let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made him feel like a child fighting for his favorite toy.

“You want to know the truth?”

“Yes,” he bit out, his chest heaving.

She stepped forward so they were only inches apart. “The truth is, you don’t deserve to know. Not yet.”

Everyone kept telling him the same thing, couldn’t they see he was already trying?

He staggered back a step. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that whatever you’re looking for, whatever answers you think you deserve, they’re not yours to take. Not until you can handle them without breaking everything you touch."

He flinched, her words striking something inside him, “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, almost desperate.

“I’m not deciding anything,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spent these last few months making everything about you. Your pain, your anger, your needs.”

He glanced away, “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

“You don’t,” he murmured, the realization bitter in his mouth.

"I don’t," she agreed, “You’re still not the person she needs you to be, and until you can prove you can do that—without me, without anyone holding your hand—you’re better off not knowing.”

“I’m trying. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“She’s scared you’re going to hurt her again—whether you mean to or not. You’re dating someone else, for god’s sake.”

“I ended it. This morning.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Doesn’t change the past, Rafe. And it sure as hell doesn’t make everything better overnight.”

Rafe flinched, the words sinking into him like stones. "Why the fuck do you think I’m here? I don’t want to hurt her—I can’t do anything if she won’t even talk to me."

Topper still had that number.

You hadn’t hidden it well enough, he hadn’t done anything with it, but it was tempting. All he had to do was call, just to confirm, he told himself. Not to pry, simply to know for sure.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. This isn’t something you can force your way into. She would never forgive you, please be smart.”

His first instinct was to lash out, fire back some venom-laced retort that would sting as much as her tone. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” He dragged a hand through his head, “I know that, I know. But I can’t just sit here, doing nothing. I need to... I need to show her I can do better. That I am better.”

“You need to crawl through hell to understand a fraction of what she’s going through; you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about her.”

His hands fell to his sides, limp, the fight suck out of him. She was right—he hated that she was. This wasn’t about him anymore; it never had been.

“What can I do?”

Her expression softened, not with forgiveness but something sadder—she wanted to believe he could. “You start by fixing yourself, then you wait. Until she’s ready, if she’s ready. You’ve got to mean that, Rafe, you screw this up again..."

"I won’t," he said firmly, cutting her off. "I can’t."

“Okay.”

“What if she’s not ready?”

He had no right to demand more.

“You keep going, keep trying. Not for her, not for anyone else—just for you.”

By the time he got back in his truck, the hurt in his body hadn’t lifted. His mom’s words echoed in his mind one more, “When you find that person, don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

Maybe that started with learning to be the person who deserved to hold on.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

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lovverletters · 11 months ago

Note

Been waiting for this lol

*Ahem* I introduced Yan husband! Finally, after years of waiting and stalking and murdering (if that's cool), he finally has you! He worships you every day and reminds you how lucky he is, and he tells everyone how he's so lucky and how you're perfect!

Yandere! Husband

A/N : Thanks for requesting! Hope you like it, 🌻 anon!

T/W : soft yandere, stalking, implied murder, non consentual photographing, stealing items, this is late asf

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ �� ──────»

"Honey, do you remember how we met?"

[Name] asked their husband of 6 years as they flip through their old journal, reliving their countless embarrassing, bitter and sweet memories of their youth.

They had been sifting through the storage closet earlier when they stumbled upon a box containing their old belongings dating back from when they were still studying in high school until they got married to their husband, Derek.

"Of course I do, it's the day I met the love of my life" He says with a smile on his face.

"Psh.. you're so cheesy Derry" [Name] swatted their husband's shoulder playfully, flustered at his words.

"What? I'm being honest. Every moment spent with you is unforgettable" A dark glint was present in his eyes as he uttered his reply.

How could he ever forget the day he met his beloved [Name]?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Derek had been in his senior year of high school by the time he met [Name].

They had only recently moved to his hometown and enroll to the high school. He could still recall their timid expression as they asked him for directions, at that moment Derek brushed off the encounter as a one time thing.

He was graduating and they were a junior, he'll probably won't see them again.

Until Derek started to bump into [Name] more frequently albeit it being only a coincidence. [Name] would notice his presence and greeted him with a small wave everytime they pass by each other in the hallway or waiting in line during lunch.

Eventually, he finally spoke to them one day. It felt odd for him to be around them yet never uttering a single word.

It was the best decision he ever made.

"Uhㅡhey" Derek cursed himself inwardly for choking on his words.

[Name]'s eyes widened, spooked to hear him talk to them. They mustered up a crooked smile after recollecting themself to reply to him.

"Derek, hi. Sorry, I was on my phone that I didn't notice you behind me"

From then, something shifted in him. Their conversation faded into a white noise in his ears as his thoughts became fixated in [Name]'s voice.

He had heard them speak before but it felt different when they're talking to him. Their voice engraving itself into his brain like an earworm.

It doesn't stop there, their interaction expanded as their friendship blooms. [Name] would seek him out on subjects they were struggling on despite having other student who would eagerly help themㅡ his heart swells with pride knowing that it's him whom they're relying on.

Derek would also began inviting them to his football practice as an excuse to invite them for an ice cream laterㅡ and to also flex his athleticism in hopes of receiving praises from them.

He's not stupid, he knows that he likes themㅡ loves them. Maybe he had been a fool for underestimating his feelings for them.

It had been an unfortunate timing that he had never been able to confess to [Name] as his graduation passes and he was wrapped up with preparing for his higher education.

Those times away and distance from [Name] were hellish. Derek felt his sanity wanning with each day passes and his thoughts were constantly thinking of [Name].

What are they doing, Where they're at, Who they're withㅡ They don't have a partner don't they? They didn't replace me did they?? I'll kill that bastard who took my placㅡ

He finally cracked after stalking through their social media page and seeing the other student having grown close to them within months of his absence.

Derek decided that he's had enough sitting around in the sidelines with an aching heart. He'll make his move and insured that [Name] will be his.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"I then drove back to back from my university to yours for years until I finally had enough and decided to ask you to move in with me" He traced the picture they took on their first day moving into his house.

[Name] snorted and pinched their husband's cheek, laughing as they teased him.

"Silly, you, I can't believe you rent out an apartment just because you can't be away from me anymore"

Derek huffed and flipped to the next page, tracing [Name]'s photo as he always does everytime he sees it.

"I love you too much, it hurt's to not be around your presence. I feel like I was going to die with each hour passes without you"

"Mmh sure, how come you never died after leaving me everytime you have to go back?" [Name] attempt at poking at their husband again.

Only to receive an unexpected answer.

"I never left" Derek uttered. No elaboration whatsoever.

Silence follows after as the cogs in [Name]'s brain turn to process what their sweet stupid dork husband just said.

Derek closed the journal shut and stood up, planting a kiss on their temple.

"I'm going to prepare dinner now. You better come and eat when I call you before continuing your clean up! No buts and ifs, okay love?" He gave them another kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

Come to think of it, Derek had re-entered their life at a time where their newfound friend tragically passed in a mysterious incident. [Name] had been devastated and clung to Derek for comfort before it eventually delved into them being in a relationship with the man.

Everything was perfect. Too perfect if they had to be honest. It's almost as if he had planned it.

They shook off the thoughts and continued sorting through the old boxes when one of the contents surprised them.

It was the items they thought they had lost or threw away. But how could Derek have it when they had lost it before they begun dating. The polaroids were also odd as Derek weren't around during their senior year when it was takenㅡ if the dates marked was correct.

"Honey! Dinner's ready"

They'll ask him about it later.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere #tw: yandere #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons

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fruvittea · 8 days ago

Text

"he's just a gryffindor"

💌﹒→﹒gryffindor!jungwon x hufflepuff!reader (harry potter au) ﹒ ﹒ ♪

— genre: fantasy, slow burn, romance

— word count: 3.1k+

— warnings? none; reader is afab + mention of yunjin from le serrafim

— synopsis: At Hogwarts, reader, a Hufflepuff student, finds herself drawn to Jungwon, a Gryffindor, during a Care of Magical Creatures class where they’re paired to care for Nifflers. And for some reason Jungwon just stays in her life, finding her in the library or even in the dining hall. As the Yule Ball nears, Jungwon invites reader to the dance. During the night of the Yule Ball the two enjoy each other’s company as their relationship blossoms into something more.

— author's note: gosh i just love making fics with jungwon in any school setting LOL, they always turn out so cute >_< anyways enjoy !! and if you have any requests feel free to put it in my inbox :)

want to read more? check out fruvittea's enhypen masterlist: click here !!

The crisp autumn air swept through the open ground of Hogwarts, rustling the golden and scarlet leaves scattered around the stone pathways. You adjusted your scarf, tucking it tighter against the wind as you made your way to the Care of Magical Creatures paddock. Having your common room close to the kitchens made it much more difficult to get to your classes all the way across campus. And now you were running late. Today’s lesson was a joint class with Gryffindors, a combination that usually promised chaos. You weren’t sure what was worse—the rambunctious Gryffindors or the Nifflers Professor Hagrid had promised would make an appearance.

In the nick of time you reached the paddock, Hargid hadn’t rounded up the class yet. AS you fixed your uniforms you spotted the telltale messy black hair of Yang Jungwon, Gryffindor’s golden boy. He was standing near a group of his housemates, grinning widely as they laughed at something he’d said. You tried not to look too long, but it was difficult not to notice him. He had a natural charisma that seemed to draw everyone in, his laughter infections even from a distance.

“All right, settle down, everyone,” Hagrid called, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. “We’ve got a special test today. You’ll be working in pairs to care for a Niffler. They’re cheeky little devils, so you’ll need to keep an eye on ‘em.”

You swallowed nervously. Working in pairs meant you’d be stuck with a Gryffindor for the next hour, and knowing your luck, it wouldn’t be one of the quieter ones.

“Let’s pair up then!” Hagrid announced, waving his massive hand to gesture for the students to group together.

You stood there watching as classmates mingled and sat down together. you were unsure of who to approach, when a familiar voice piped up behind you. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Turning around you found yourself face-to-face with Jungwon. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, and his scarf was loosely draped around his neck, the crimson and gold clashing beautifully against his warm complexion.

“Oh. Okay,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended. “Let’s do this, then.”

He grinned adjusting his scarf. “Try to keep up, Hufflepuff. Nifflers aren’t exactly known for being cooperative.”

You bristled at his teasing tone but bit back a retort. Instead, you focused on the small, mischievous created that Hargid placed in your hands. the Niffler’s tiny class dug into your glove as it sniffled around, its beady eyes darting towards Jungwon’s pocket.

“Careful,” you warned, shifting the Niffler slightly. “It’s eyeing your pocket. Did you bring anything shiny?”

Jungwon smirked. “What kind of student would I be if I did?” He pulled a golden Galleon from his pocket and held it up, hte coin catching the sunlight. The Niffler’s attention snapped to it instantly, and before you could react, it launched itself out of your hands and straight towards him.

“Whoa!” Jungwon stumbled backwards as the Niffler clung to his robe, scrabbling at his pocket. You stifled a laugh as your reached out to help, carefully prying the creature away.

“You’re not making this any easier,” you said, your tone laced with amusement.

“And you’re supposed to be the patient one,” he shot back, though there was no malice in his words. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the banter.

The next hour passed in a blur of chaos and laughter. The Niffler’s antics kept you both on your toes, darting from one shiny object to the next. At one point, it disappeared into Jungwon’s bag, emerging triumphantly with a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“I don’t even know how those got in there,” he muttered, earning a chuckle from you.

By the time Hagrid called the class to a close, you were exhausted but oddly energized. Jungwon was leaning against the paddock fence, his hair slightly disheveled and a faint flush on his cheeks. He looked at you with a crooked grin.

“Not bad, Hufflepuff. You might actually have some Gryffindor in you.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “And you might have a little Hufflepuff. You were surprisingly gentle with the Niffler.”

“Surprising? I’m hurt,” he teased, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Professor Hagrid dismissed the class and the adventures with the Nifflers came to an end. You thought your interactions with Jungwon would come to an end but before you left the room Jungwon caught up with you. The walk back to the castle was filled with easy conversation, much to your own surprise. Jungwon had a way of making you feel comfortable, even as he teased you relentlessly. By the time you parted ways in the Great Hall, you found yourself looking forward to your next Care of Magical Creatures lesson more than you cared to admit.

The following weeks brought more unexpected encounters. Whether it was passing him in the corridors or running into him during shared classes, Jungwon seemed to pop up everywhere. And each time, he greeted you with the same teasing grin and lighthearted banter.

One particularly chilly afternoon, you found yourself in the library, poring over a book on magical creatures for an essay. The familiar scent of parchment and ink surrounded you, and you were just beginning to lose yourself in the text when a shadow fell over your table.

“Studying? On a Saturday?” Jungwon’s voice broke your concentration.

You looked up to see him standing there, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “Some of us care about our grades,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, sliding into the seat across from you. “Looking for you, apparently. You left your scarf at the paddock yesterday.”

Your eyes widened as he pulled the yellow-and-black scarf from his bag and placed it on the table. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So, what’s the essay on?”

Against your better judgment, you found yourself explaining the assignment. Jungwon listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with a joke or question that made you laugh despite yourself. Before long, what had started as a quiet afternoon of studying turned into a surprisingly enjoyable conversation.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the library windows, you realized you hadn’t written a single word of your essay. Jungwon seemed to notice, too, because he stood up with a sheepish grin.

“Guess I’ve distracted you enough for one day,” he said. “Good luck with the essay, Hufflepuff.”

“Thanks,” you said, watching as he walked away. For a moment, you thought he might look back, but he didn’t. As you turned back to your book, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Gryffindors weren’t so bad.

The weeks following your unexpected partnership with Jungwon passed in a haze of routine and subtle anticipation. You’d find yourself scanning the Great Hall during breakfast or lingering just a little longer in the corridors, hoping to run into him. To your surprise—and slight annoyance—he always seemed to catch you off guard, his sharp wit and easy charm leaving you flustered more often than you’d care to admit.

It was late November when the snow began to blanket the castle grounds, transforming Hogwarts into a winter wonderland. Students bundled up in their house scarves, laughter echoing through the corridors as everyone prepared for the upcoming Yule Ball. It was all anyone could talk about, and despite your best efforts, the excitement was contagious.

You were heading to the greenhouses for Herbology when you heard a familiar voice call out behind you.

“Hey, Hufflepuff! Wait up!”

You turned to see Jungwon jogging toward you, his Gryffindor scarf askew and his cheeks pink from the cold. His smile was as bright as ever, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“You know I have a name, right?” you teased, though your tone lacked any real bite.

“Of course it's Y/n,” he said, falling into step beside you. “But ‘Hufflepuff’ just suits you better. So, have you picked your Yule Ball date yet?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stumbled slightly on the icy path. “What? No! I mean… I haven’t really thought about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Come on, the whole school’s buzzing about it. Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious who’s going to ask you.”

You felt your face heat up and quickly looked away. “I’m more focused on my classes, thanks. Unlike some people, I don’t have time to obsess over a dance.”

Jungwon laughed, a sound that sent a warm flutter through your chest despite the chilly air. “You know for being so into your classes I would think you were a Ravenclaw but fair enough. Although if you need a last-minute partner, you know where to find me.”

“Is that your way of asking me?” you shot back, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Or maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a quick wave and disappeared down a side path, leaving you standing there with a mix of confusion and something you couldn’t quite place.

“What the hell.” You muttered under your breath as you continued your walk to Herbology.

The days leading up to the Yule Ball were a whirlwind of preparations. Your dormitory buzzed with activity as your housemates tried on dresses and robes, debating hairstyles and accessories. You’d finally picked out your own attire, a simple yet elegant dress that you hoped would keep you from standing out too much.

The night of the ball arrived faster than you expected. And there you were standing at the mirror looking at your dress as your roommate talked about her date and what they were going to do after the dance.

“Y/n, I heard Jungwon asked you.” Yunjin, your roommate, decided to bring up.

“In a way, but I’m not going with him.” you said still looking in hte mirror trying to find any imperfections.

“Why? He’s really cute, plus I’ve seen you two talking like all the time.” You made eye contact with her through the mirror and she was smiling, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Calm down, we just met in class and he has just kept on talking to me. Anyways—do I look okay?” You turn to Yunjin with a worried look on your face.

She comes up to you and gives you a hug. “Don’t worry Y/n. Jungwon will think you look beautiful.” She teased.

You rolled your eyes not wanting to give her the satisfaction. "He's just a Gryffindor boy, not worth my time."

“Whatever you say. But I've seen the way to you smile when you're with him. Cmon let’s go, before it gets too late,” Yunjin takes your arm and you make your way to the dance.

The Great Hall was transformed into a magical wonderland, with twinkling fairy lights and shimmering icicles hanging from the enchanted ceiling. Students milled about in their finest attire, the air buzzing with excitement and the soft strains of music.

Yunjin had met up with her date and you were left standing near the refreshment table, sipping on a cup of warm pumpkin juice, when Jungwon appeared at your side. He looked impossibly dashing in his formal robes, the Gryffindor colors subtly incorporated into the design. His hair was neatly styled, but the familiar twinkle in his eyes remained unchanged.

“You clean up well,” he said, his tone light but his gaze warm.

“So do you,” you replied, trying not to let your nerves show. “I thought you’d be off charming the crowd.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the table. “Maybe I’d rather be here. Besides, someone’s got to make sure you’re not hiding out all night.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not hiding. I’m observing.”

“Observing, huh?” He held out his hand, his grin softening into something almost nervous. “Care to observe the dance floor with me?”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then, something in his expression—the mix of confidence and vulnerability—made you reach out and take his hand.

The dance floor was crowded, but Jungwon guided you with surprising ease. The moment you stepped closer, you caught the faint scent of his cologne—something clean and subtly spicy that made your head spin. As the music swelled, you found yourself relaxing, letting him lead you through the steps. His hand was warm in yours, his touch steady but slightly trembling, as if he was as nervous as you felt.

“See? Not so bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone.

You met his gaze and noticed the way his confident demeanor faltered slightly. His eyes flickered from yours to the space between you, like he couldn’t quite believe how close you were. For once, you couldn’t think of a single witty reply. Instead, you let yourself smile, feeling the moment stretch between you like a thread of magic, fragile yet unbreakable.

The steps slowed, and Jungwon’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he wasn’t ready for the song to end. When it finally did, he didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice soft and uncertain as he said, “Thanks for the dance, Hufflepuff.”

“Anytime, Gryffindor,” you replied, your voice just as quiet, your heart fluttering wildly as he finally released your hand.

“You know,” Jungwon began, a hint of hesitation in his tone, “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes to that dance.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “It’s not like you gave me much of a choice.”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost self-conscious. “Fair point. But still… I’m glad you did.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something in his expression you couldn’t quite place—a mixture of nervousness and relief.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice softer now, “it was… nice. Dancing with you, I mean.”

“Nice?” he echoed, pretending to be offended, though the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed him. “I’ll take it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he said with a grin, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart skip another beat.

But Jungwon didn’t stray far. Throughout the night, he stayed by your side, his usual teasing demeanor giving way to something more genuine. He made you laugh with stories of his misadventures in the Gryffindor common room, his eyes lighting up every time you smiled. The two of you shared more dances, each one more comfortable and intimate than the last, until the space between you felt almost non-existent.

As the night wore on, you found yourself wondering how you’d never noticed the way his laugh sounded like music, or how his presence made you feel like you belonged exactly where you were. Jungwon seemed equally caught up in the moment, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary, his hand brushing yours even when there was no need.

By the end of the ball, it felt as though the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you under the enchanted ceiling, the stars above mirroring the spark between you.

Jungwon’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “You know, this has been the best Yule Ball I’ve ever been to.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “How many have you been to, exactly?”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “Well, it’s my first, but… it’ll be hard to top this.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. “I’m glad you had a good time,” you said softly, looking down at your feet before meeting his gaze again. “I did too.”

His smile widened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he hesitated, glancing around the Great Hall. The music was softer now, the crowd thinning as couples began to drift out.

“Do you… want to go for a walk?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost nervous.

You blinked in surprise but nodded, the idea of some fresh air suddenly appealing. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Together, you slipped out of the hall, the crisp night air wrapping around you as you stepped onto the snow-dusted grounds. The moonlight reflected off the blanket of white, casting everything in a silvery glow. Jungwon walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets, his usual confidence replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” you murmured, your breath visible in the cold.

“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing at you with a small smile. “I think I needed this.”

“From all your Gryffindor antics?” you teased lightly.

He laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “Something like that. It’s nice, though. Being here with you.”

You looked at him, your heart skipping at the earnestness in his voice. Before you could overthink it, you nudged him playfully. “Careful, Jungwon. You’re starting to sound sincere.”

“Maybe I am,” he said, his tone quiet but steady. The vulnerability in his eyes made your teasing smile falter, replaced by something softer.

The two of you stopped near a frozen fountain, the snow glimmering around you. Jungwon turned to face you fully, his expression hesitant but hopeful. “Thanks for tonight. I mean it.”

“You already said that,” you replied, though your voice lacked any real teasing.

“I know,” he said, taking a small step closer. “But I wanted to say it again.”

The space between you felt charged, the air holding a kind of anticipation you’d never felt before. Jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours, then to your lips, and back again, as though waiting for a sign.

Not thinking but acting you leaned in close to Jungwon’s face, brushing your lips against his. It was soft and tentative, but the warmth of it spread through you like fire. Jungwon froze for a moment before responding, his hand gently coming up to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss just slightly.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the cold air sharp against your heated skin. Jungwon’s smile was small but radiant, his eyes searching yours.

“So… does this mean I’ve secured you as my partner for the next ball too?” he asked, his playful tone returning but laced with unmistakable affection.

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see, Gryffindor. We’ll see.”

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop drabbles #enhypen #enhypen fanfics #enhypen x reader #jungwon enha #jungwon x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #harry potter imagines #harry potter #harry potter au #enhypen masterlist

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xxanaduwrites · 6 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

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hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

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@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

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@themorriganisamonster

@real-lana-del-rey

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@thatoneweirdgirl17

#miss honey x benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny cross #johnny davis #the bikeriders #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #residue da series #johnny the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #da bee hive 🐝#from the hive 🎙️🐝

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joonberriess · 1 year ago

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𓆩♡𓆪 “you don’t have to admit you wanna play, just let me rock you till the break of day,” – jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — simping at its finest, blowjobs, cum-swallowing, degradation, dumbification, jk is mean but also a praise fanatic, oc is a cute puppy who eats it all up, objectification(?) pretty sure bc jk just has unholy thoughts about oc, oc is THEE it girl, dirty talking, messy lil make-outs, thank you kiss on the tip LOL, PET NAME GALORE, oc is a nice lil bimbo everyone loves ❤️ even jk’s friends luv her

Jungkook listened to whatever the hell Jennie was explaining to him, in truth he stopped paying attention like five minutes ago. He sat there like a fried vegetable just zoning out and nodding mindlessly whenever Jennie looked at him and asked if he agreed etc. He didn’t want to be rude to Jennie but any more of this and he’d go insane he fears.

“So for the powerpoint I was thinking we should..” Jennie’s voice slowly fades out as the sound of the front door opening catches Jungkook’s eye/attention. Holy shit he doesn’t believe what he’s witnessing. He doesn’t realize he’s staring hardcore at Jennie’s poor unsuspecting roommate.

He instantly recognizes you as the girl he sees his team/friends go crazy over. You were quite the talk of the campus—cute, slutty, bimbo-like, these were some of the most common things said. If Jungkook had to admit, you were pretty cute and he’s only ever really seen you casually here and there. He finds himself licking his lips slowly and sitting up while clearing his throat.

“Hi Jennie, hi Jennie’s friend.” You sweetly say while waving at Jungkook politely. He gets an eyeful of tits and soft tummy as you pass by.

You’re wearing this soft pink tracksuit and white baby tee crop top which hugs your pretty little tits just nicely. Don’t even get him started about your backside which is enough in itself to bring a tear to his eye. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s overdoing it with his staring until Jennie clears her throat pretty loudly.

“Ahem.” She glares at him, “As I was saying,” she shoves her laptop in Jungkook’s face.

He doesn’t see more of you because you end up heading down the hall to your room after saying “bye-bye” to both him and Jennie. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He grunts in annoyance.

“Not my roommate Jeon, you can go about fucking anything that fucking walks and has a hole between their legs but you leave y/n out of your lechery. Got it?” She hisses, “I can see the gears working in that stupid head of yours, so I’m warning you. Now help me with this powerpoint asshole, I’m not doing all the work.”

Jungkook internally groans—overprotective roommate, greaaat.

Whole time he works on the project his mind is filled with obscene thoughts and nasty little daydreams he comes up with just thinking about you. Jungkook’s had his fair share of hook-ups but none have ever truly made him go this crazy before. He’s fucking FIENDING for it, would be on his damn knees begging for you to crush his head with your soft thighs if he could.

Too bad Jennie said you were off-limits though. Unless..

Much to Jungkook’s dismay he doesn’t see you for the remainder of the time he’s there. He does see you more often around campus though, whether it’s you hopping out of your very pink car or you running about all over campus with a pink drink in your hands. He can’t get enough of you, and it’s fucking obvious to his friends who make fun of him for it.

“y/n, Kook? Really?” Yugyeom snorts, “Only in your fucking dreams will you ever hit that, your little guy down there probably wouldn’t even know what to do with all that ass.” Laughter all around them erupts as Yugyeom smugly smirks, happy with himself.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You’re so fucking stupid,” more laughing, “honestly, if anyone has more chances it’s me, you’re all either losers AND she’s never bat an eye at you. I don’t see any action from any of you either, all talk and shit.” He mutters while taking a drag from the blunt they were all passing around.

“Not true! y/n is a nice girl Jungkook.” Jimin snorts, “Watch,” he turns around and looks over the area for you, “hey y/n!” He yells while waving his arms. They all wait patiently for your reaction, low and behold you just end up proving Jimin correct.

You look confused at first until you smile brightly, “Hi,” you wave back while walking over, “what are you guys up to?” You tilt your head, lips pursed in a adorable little pout.

“Smoking.” Yugyeom replies curtly, “Want some?” He holds the blunt out to you.

Jungkook doesn’t know why but that shit irks the fuck out of him, he shoots his friend a glare and fans the smoke out of your direction before it can hit you. You smell like chai mixed with pumpkin, and he definitely does NOT want to ruin your pretty smell.

“No thank you,” you politely reply and then turn to look at Jimin again, “ ‘m a little sad though, because this morning I tried to make waffles but I didn’t know you had to actually pull the lever down and I didn’t get to eat my waffles.” You sigh wistfully, “See?” You hold out the raw and cold waffles wrapped up in a napkin, “And I don’t like it,” you shake your head, “you’re my friend right Jiminie? Can you buy me some waffles from the cafe pretty please?” You whine.

Jimin turns a little red at the nickname and nods, “Here,” he holds out a couple of bills, more than enough.

The other guys scramble for their wallets, “I’m your friend too right y/n?” They say while holding out their own money to you. Jungkook just stands there slack-jawed, he has never seen his own friends this fucking down-bad before. Oh, but they wanted to laugh at him for simping after you? Funny how the tables have turned.

“Reallyyyy?” You breathily giggle while accepting the money, “Thank you!” You kiss Jimin on the cheek before skipping away with literally breakfast, lunch, and dinner money.

“But I’M the fuckin’ simp? Yeah, totally.” Jungkook scoffs while shaking his head.

Jungkook starts making up an excuse to talk to you from then on. He doesn’t have to do much because you do all the talking for him, he just stands there listening to you ramble on and on about something he doesn’t recall asking. He thinks it’s cute when you stop mid-sentence and say in utter confusion, “What was I talking about again?”

If he could, he’d sit there and just listen to you talk all day. He’s surprised how much he likes your ditziness and dumb little brain fart moments, he finds that he doesn’t mind it so much. Like now, he was sitting there propped up against his car in the parking lot listening to you rant about astrology, time-loops, and anime..?

“Yeah?” Jungkook occasionally says while he watches you passionately explain to him what a fucking shinigami was.

“Think about it—politics and death notebooks, they go hand in hand for disaster and doom.” You softly say, completely side-tracking from the original topic, “I wish I had a shinigami though,” you pout while tapping your finger against your chin, “I think Ryuk is pretty cool. Have you seen the anime?”

Jungkook hums, “No, heard of it but haven’t seen it. So like, shinigami’s come with a death note or what?” He asks, ready for another little rant of yours (he doesn’t mind though). His eyes fall down to your pretty camisole you wore today. You were wearing these cute tight jeans that hung low on your hips, he loved the little pink bows you attached to the belt loops.

“Mm-hm,” you nod, “oh! I gotta go before I forget, all my undies shrunk in the dryer and now they’re pretty tight ‘n they fit a little smaller so now I have to buy some more.” You pout, “Bye Jungkookie,” you throw one arm around his neck as you side-hug him, standing on your tippy toes to reach his height as you press a kiss to his cheek, “bye-bye!” You wave and run off.

“Bye..” Jungkook whispers in awe, he smells a hint of your perfume on his shirt and he vows then and there he isn’t going to wash this shirt anytime soon.

The next time that Jungkook sees you it’s when he’s leaving your shared apartment after another project session. He sees you bent over while poking and trying to pull at the gas tank lid, which is obviously sealed shut. He whistles under his breath and walks over, eyes dropping down to your perky ass which is covered in these pretty little shorts which hug both cheeks nice and tight.

“What you doing down there, hm?” Jungkook leans against the car with his arms folded over his chest and an amused smile on his face, “Having fun?”

“Jungkook, hi,” you greet softly while standing up straight, “I was just trying to get this stupid thingy open because Jennie is letting me borrow her car cause mine is in the shop getting the windows tinted,” you pout, “but I don’t know how to open this stupid thing, and I wanna fill her car with gas as a thank you for letting me borrow it. Help meeeee,” you whine tugging at his arm.

“C’mere,” he loosely wraps an arm around your waist and guides you to sit in the driver's seat, “you see this baby?” He squats down so he’s eye-level with you, his free hand rests over your soft thighs while he points with his other, “You just pull this, and wa-la, the gas tank lid pops right open.” He chuckles and squeezes your thigh.

Your eyes brighten, “Reallyyy? How cool, thank you.” You happily throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, “no wonder that stupid thing wasn’t opening.” You giggle.

Jungkook takes a deep whiff of your soft coconut smell, he closes his eyes and sighs in pure bliss. This was the dream dammit, he never wanted to leave this spot EVER. “It was no problem really.” He mumbles more to himself while he stares at your pretty tits.

Fuck the friend code (if you can even call Jennie’s threat that), friend code didn’t have a pair of child-bearing hips and a ass shaped like a fucking peach like you did. Who was Jennie to keep all of you to herself so selfishly?

“Jungkook,” you softly say, “ ‘m gonna give you a thank you kiss.”

Jungkook laughs in amusement over how proud of yourself you look right now, he finds himself shaking his head and speaking in a lower pitched tone, “Yeah, where? Right here?” He turns his face to stick his cheek out.

A tiny little giggle escapes your lips as you nod at him, “Mm-hmm, right there.” You lean upwards to kiss his cheek gently, emitting a soft smacking noise as you happily smooch him. “There.” You say more to yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your jiggly boobs which are pretty much in his face at this point. Your camisole somehow dips lower as your tits sit perfectly pushed together to accentuate their size. He tells himself not to but his dick seems to say otherwise as it stirs up in the confinements of his boxers. He already knows he’s about to be sporting a hard-on by the end of this interaction so he gives in.

“Want another kiss..” He mumbles while licking his lips, “But not on my cheek..got somethin’ else you can kiss.”

Your eyes follow his line of sight and you come across the very prominent bulge sitting behind his sweats. Your cheeks feel hot from embarrassment as the familiar throbbing sensation forms between your legs. Jungkook sees this when you suddenly begin rubbing your soft thighs together while staring back at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Whaddya say baby,” he lazily grins, “can I get that kiss?”

You stare back at him with those sweet puppy eyes of yours and nod eagerly.

Lips smacking against lips and quiet little moans/noises fill the otherwise dimly lit car (God bless his Mercedes for the interior lighting). You were tucked away on his lap in the backseat of the car, windows foggy and all as your hand slipped from the glass. Jungkook could die a happy man right now with the way he had a handful of ass sitting in the palms of his hands. He gave your soft cheeks appreciative squeezes as he kneaded the flesh roughly—greedily.

His own lips were a bit swollen from the hot make-out session but he didn’t mind, you were one hell of a kisser. One thing he didn’t see coming was how much of a little sex fiend you were, he swears he can’t keep up with how needy and slutty you are. He almost finds it cute how you pout and beg for him to let you have it while simultaneously humping him and refusing to let him part from the kiss.

Jungkook raised his hand and brought it down hard on your ass cheek, relishing in the resounding slap noise and how it recoiled/bounced in place. A slutty little moan escapes your lips as you pull back and pant softly against his lips, “Take ‘em off,” you slur softly, “hate these stupid shorts, gettin’ in my way.” You mumble with a tiny pout.

“Gonna let me see what’s underneath baby?” He looks up through his hooded eyes, grinning when he sees you eagerly nodding back at him, “Yeah? Go on then, slide ‘em off baby, show me what you got on.” He smacks your ass and gropes it harshly, only letting go when you whine at him while unbuttoning your shorts.

He swears under his breath as soon as the button pops open and you slip the zipper down. The hem of your undies comes into view, he sees a tiny bow sitting at the top so innocently and he can’t help but wonder what the rest of your panties are like.. Jungkook reclines back on the seat and parts his legs to make room for you.

You manage to slip your shorts down your thighs slowly with your hips swaying from side to side. Jungkook lets out an audible groan when he sees the cheeky undergarment that was hiding underneath. “Well don’t you look pretty,” he comments while running his hand over your ass, “bet you look prettier under.” He mumbles while licking his lips.

“But what about your kiss?” You pout.

Jungkook smacks your ass wickedly, “Don’t give me that fuckin’ pout. Didn’t know you were that eager to suck my cock, ‘s all you’re good for isn’t it baby? Just a dumb little thing who needs her mouth filled huh?” He grins when he hears you moan, “You gonna be a good little cock sleeve for me?”

“The best,” you happily slur, “ ‘m gonna swallow every last drop, promise.”

He finds it endearing when you hold your pinky out to him, and not wanting to be mean he hooks his pinky with yours, “Good girl.” He brings you in for a gentle little smooch, “Gonna ruin that pretty face of yours baby,” he whispers in-between kisses, “get on your knees for me.”

Jungkook finds that he likes how submissive and responsive you are to him, makes it a hundred times sexier in his opinion. You sink to your knees in front of him without missing a beat, you have your hands set over his knees as you sit there waiting with puppy eyes. “Go ahead baby, ‘s all yours.” He chuckles.

You eagerly paw at his sweats and with his help pull them down alongside his boxers until his fat cock is springing out and slapping against his lower abdomen. Your mouth waters when your eyes land on his perfectly sculpted cock, now you wanna feel it inside of you more than ever. His cock lays against his stomach, flush at the tip with prominent veins on the underside of his shaft.

“ ‘s mine…?” You whisper breathily while pursing yours lips, “ ‘s so pretty..” You’re talking more to yourself as you grab ahold of his throbbing cock and bring the mushroomy tip to your lips. Your tongue pokes out as you swirl it over the head, moaning softly at the tangy taste.

Jungkook bites down on his lip as he watches with hooded eyes, he can’t believe his wet dreams are coming true. Did he save an entire country in his past life? Made sense with how lucky he was right now. He brings his tattooed hand over the back of your head as he simply rests it there, letting you explore his dick like if it was a lollipop or some shit.

Your lips wrap around the head as you make these sloppy little sucking noises. Trickles of saliva begin to trickle down his cock, you use it as lube to stroke his girthy shaft—twisting and turning your hand around it while you noisily swallow around the tip. Jungkook’s lips part with breathy sighs escaping him, he relaxes into the seat and leans his head back with his eyes slipped shut.

You’re working wonders on his cock right now with the way you’re slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth. “Like that,” he whispers more to himself as he moans out again when you dip your tongue into the sensitive slit of his tip. Your strokes become slower but much more intense with the pressure you start applying. It’s getting a lot harder now to control himself from bucking his hips or something.

“Shit, don’t tease me baby,” he groans, “been thinking about your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock for weeks now. Knew you’d look pretty with a mouth full of cock.” Jungkook opens his eyes again to admire the view. “Open up for me baby,” he reaches down to thumb at your lower lip, “there you go—like that.” He grins.

He feeds you more of his cock watching as you eagerly take more and more until the tip hits the back of your throat. It sends you into a small gagging fit but the vibrations and pressure of your throat closing around him definitely sends zaps of hot pleasure down in his groin and lower belly. “Shit.” He groans loudly.

You whine around his cock and pull away to catch your breath, his cock slips from your mouth with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. Jungkook hisses quietly under his breath and reaches down to stroke his slicked up cock, “Messy little thing you are.”

“Off, off, ‘s my turn.” You huff cutely before swallowing his cock in one go now that you’re a bit more prepared.

It takes Jungkook by surprise as he groans loudly and throws his head back. You begin working wonders with that sinful tongue of yours, pairing it with some mean ass sucks. He lets his hand slip from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, just holding you there as he lets you do your thing. You begin bobbing your head slowly while noisily swallowing around his cock.

“Fucking hell y/n,” he whispers slack-jawed, you’re a damn menace. How the hell is he supposed to last? “You just needed something to fill that needy hole of yours didn’t you?” He pants softly, “Knew the moment I saw you that you were made for my cock baby. If only you could see yourself now.” He licks his lips and gives your neck a small gentle squeeze between his fingers.

You slurp up all the slick you leave behind on his cock, your hand sits at the base just idly gripping him while your mouth does all the work. You pull all the way up until the tip sits in your mouth before you swoop back down to take all of him in. He repeatedly hits the back of your throat but you do a much better job at controlling your gag reflex this time around. Your sloppy pace definitely has Jungkook moaning and grunting under his breath.

“Gonna cum,” he sighs, “keep going—like that.” He whispers as a full body shudder falls over him.

You eagerly pull off his cock and begin stroking him at a frantic pace. You watch with glee as his cock begins to throb in your hold, but you don’t let it deter you one bit. You’re eager to see him cum, you want it all in your mouth. “Like this?” You say this while squeezing around the tip and flicking your thumb over it.

Jungkook gasps softly, “Fuck..!” He hisses.

You smile deviously and bring the tip over your lips, “Or like this?” You whisper, blowing softly over his sensitive head before you take him back into your mouth.

Jungkook lets out a mantra of “fucks” and “yes’s” as he reaches down to grip his cock, his hand covers your own as he begins moving your hand up and down on his cock. You suckle at the head and watch as he comes undone. “Oh fuckkk..” He whispers as his cock throbs, cum shooting down your throat as you swallow around him greedily.

He slumps in the seat and pants quietly while watching you clean his dick with your sinful little tongue. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard in his entire life before. He saw the pearly white gates of heaven just now.. “A-Ah shit, no more baby, ‘s sensitive.” He chuckles breathily when you try to suck on his (slowly softening) cock.

You pull back with a cheerful smile on your face, the corner of your mouth has drool and a bit of cum but you don’t seem to mind, “ ‘s so pretty.” You coo like his dick is the most amazing thing ever, he watches you lean over to press a tiny little kiss to the sensitive head.

Are you even real??

“C’mere,” he pats his lap, “I saw the way you were humping your own hand like a bitch in heat the entire time you had my cock in your mouth.” He says as he hauls you up, “You also deserve a nice little thank you, don’t you baby?” He grins while stroking his hands over your soft cheeks.

You nod eagerly, “Mm-hm,” you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer, “do you wanna come upstairs after this? I wanna introduce you to my bunny Luna! Oh, and we can watch some anime together because I think it’s lame you haven’t seen Sailor Moon OR Death Note.” You huff in disbelief.

Little did Jungkook know that by saying yes to all that he’d end up staying for wayyyyy longer than he initially planned. You becoming (a important) part of his life was a bonus. <3

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

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vixeneptune · 1 year ago

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A message from your future self 💌

""you did it. You literally have it all and I mean EVERYTHING you've ever wanted and more. You manifested that dream life, that dream house, that dream partner, there's so much more in store for you and you don't even know it yet! I mean the things you're gonna experience are beyond what you can even imagine rn like it's so much better. YOU are soooo much better!

I'm telling you from where I am at, I look around me and see everything I've ever envisioned for myself. I'm chilling in my dream house, abundance all around, looking at myself in the mirror with my desired face and body😍. I see my life partner who worships the ground I walk on, he's EXACTLY my type (yup you manifested him and everything went better than you think rn) he literally adores you, he gives you flowers everyday and makes you the happiest. This man will do anything for u fr.

Girl the love you're about to experience is unreal. Also the glowup you're about to have?? Ohmygod you age like fine wine.. Or more like.. You never age you just keep looking younger and prettier like howww. People wonder what your secret is. I swear it's like I never peak I'm always getting and looking better.

Ohhh and your confidence, if you think you're confident enough now just wait 🤣 I'm so confident now that I literally don't give a fuck about what anyone thinks or says like I'm so expressive and assertive and free! I'm so confident that I could literally dance in the street infront of a bunch of people, I can befriend anyone, I love doing public speeches, I feel good having all eyes on me. My confidence SHOWS it radiates for miles. How I walk, talk and act all show how confident I am. I completely trust myself now like I never have any doubts ! Yup zero doubts we are THAT secure.

I know you're waiting for it and yes, we did THAT TOO. We traveled to alot of cool places, met alot of new amazing people all over the world. You're so rich that it doesn't matter how much anything costs like you don't even have to look at the price, your man buys it for you. You're rich af too from doing your passion and girl lemme tell you.. Success is GUARANTEED for you. You'll see it.

If you ever think your physical body is not malleable, well you're so wrong. You literally shapeshifted like you have your exact desired appearance now and everyone is shocked by your glowup.. They wonder what you did or HOW you did it. I've always been beautiful but this is next level.. I'm talking MAXIMUM level of beauty, goddess level of beauty like it's unreal.

I love realizing how powerful I've always been, like I manifested all of it, you did. You're doing it rn and it's all working out behind the scenes. The moment you want something, the whole universe rearranges itself so it can give it to you, all you ever had to do is be open to receive bc it's already YOURS. Trust me. You already got it and you don't even have to try it all happened so naturally!

I'm proud of you, and I'm proud of myself. even though I already have all my desires now and I'm fulfilled, I still think there's so much more ahead, bc life just keeps on getting better for us! We ARE SO lucky you have no idea

Never give up, never settle for less. "

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agendabymooner · 8 months ago

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SOMETHING CAUTIOUS !!! LIAM L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: the word lost its meaning when she became an aphrodisiac that didn’t need to be consumed.

content warning: smut below the cut (minors dni!), short blurb i’m sorry, fingering if you blink, suggestive, exhibitionism content, outdoor sex (hot tub), this didn’t eat i’m sorry

💌re:moony's planner request: i saw a picture of him in a hot tub and i so want like outdoor sex with the thrill that anybody can see them and get caught 🙏

note: where have i been? idk- but i hope you guys enjoyed that australia 2024 podium finishers smut tho— now all of my requests are threesomes. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

for her, the hot tub that was laid outside the deck of their secluded airbnb was meant to be a place for relaxation - the view of the mountains was right in front of her.

the sight of the mountain was so beautiful that she couldn’t help but lean over the edge of the tub as the jetted stream let the hot water flow with movements.

it was a delightful sight. alongside that was a serenity that the airbnb offered. the only thing that she could hear was the bubbling of the hot tub and her casual paddling beneath the water.

but to the new zealander, the mountains in front of the tub wasn’t the delightful sight he was staring at.

it was the backside of his girlfriend; the curves that glistened because of the water while she wore nothing but a bikini that had her butt peeking out.

liam lawson didn’t need an aphrodisiac to feel hot and bothered. not when his girlfriend was a delightful sight to see- in the most raunchy yet romantic way possible, if liam would say so himself.

liam didn’t even second guess as soon as he hopped into his swim trunks, slipping onto the hot tub right behind her without making her aware of his presence.

she seemed to be mesmerized by the view. liam could give her a reason to be mesmerized; it didn't have anything to do with the view though.

she sighed softly when liam’s lips began to attach themselves onto the nape of her neck, her hips automatically pushing itself back against his as liam’s hands pulled her closer.

under the water, his hips grinded against hers and she moaned at the friction shared between them.

“mmm- li,” she uttered, her protests falling apart because of her reactions, “we’re outdoors.”

“hmmm…” liam didn’t even hear what she said, too busy feeling her up from behind and his hand snaking through her bikini bottom.

she whimpered at his brief touch of her clit as she continued to protest, “people might see—“

liam smirked at her comment as he said, “yeah? in such a private area?”

“li…”

liam tutted his girlfriend softly while he continued to press against her clit and make a slow circular motion on it. “baby, we paid for the whole place. whoever sees that’s their fault.

“you love it don’t you?” liam let out a hum while he continued to nip on her ear, “you love the thought of being caught while you’re too fucked out, hm? you want to be fucked out here, no?”

“i can tell you want to be fucked out here, baby,” liam teased his blushing girlfriend, who couldn’t help but moan and whimper. “you want people to catch you getting all horny and hot f’me.”

“yeah…” she whispered quietly.

“yeah?” liam chuckled huskily, as if he was taunting her to speak more.

he knew he had her at the palm of his hand. she was already a putty when he began touching her, so he did the next best thing that followed her reaction and liam inserted a finger into her seeping cunt.

“you’re already wet at the thought of it and that’s not even the jacuzzi, baby,” liam crooned with a sinister grin, his other hand tugging off her bikini and leaving it to rest somewhere outside of the tub.

he kicked off his swim trunks, his toned arm reaching out to tug on her hair as she let out a pitiful whine of his name, “liam, please! fuck…”

“please what?” liam taunted, “please make you scream? make everyone know how much of a slut you are for me?”

“please what, baby?”

no word escaped her mouth, leaving liam to chuckle darkly.

it was as if she was already long gone before she could even warn him about keeping it down and fucking her inside the rental instead.

this gave liam more control and more opportunities to wear her out. the word ‘cautious’ lost its meaning the moment liam fingered her in this outdoor jacuzzi and her eyes began to roll back.

“let’s see how much you can scream f’me, baby,” liam said, sliding his cock into her desperate hole.

he didn’t care about losing his dignity- fucking outdoors where people could possibly see them.

he was getting lost in her beauty and her sobbing while she told him that she was cumming over and over again.

his hips couldn’t even find themselves to stop, overstimulating himself and her while liam continued to thrust his cock until he repeatedly glided into her sensitive spot.

he couldn’t care much about anything. he couldn’t even find himself to be cautious when all he knew was that his girlfriend was weeping for his cock and for more.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

#formula one imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #liam lawson x reader #liam lawson #liam lawson smut #f1 smut #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1

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angelfic · 1 year ago

Note

Heyyy

I don't know if your still doing this but if you are, I would LOVE a Mattheo Riddle, mutual pining, prompt 1. Love you so much.

ask and you shall receive😚💌

mattheo riddle x reader + mutual pining + “who did this to you?”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

The castle is silent when you make your way to the Astronomy tower. Over the last week, you’ve figured out the best possible route to get there after curfew without bumping into Peeves or the Baron while avoiding any particularly loud portraits.

Ever since Hermione started pacing around the dorm while knitting, the Muffliato charm has been rendered useless and the clicking of the needles has driven you crazy. Combined with Fred and George’s experiments in the common room until early hours of the morning, the Astronomy tower is the only place you can get a moment’s peace.

Your footsteps into the tower become hesitant though, when you spot a wisp of smoke coming from behind one of the pillars. After taking a few tentative steps further, you realise with a jolt that it’s none other than Mattheo Riddle sat there, cigarette loosely held between his fingers. You recognise him from the barely visible angle pretty quickly, owing to the fact you’ve found yourself staring at him from afar more times than you’d care to admit.

He doesn’t turn around, flicking at his cigarette and when you shuffle, making a noise, he lets his head fall back to rest against the pillar. “Enzo, if you’re here to pester me again, you can fuck off.”

“Er, not Lorenzo,” you reply, voice quiet in the echoing tower. Mattheo sits up straight immediately, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, giving you a hint of a smile. He nods over to a spot near him. “You can come sit if you want.”

You contemplate politely refusing since you probably won’t get any work done with Mattheo right in front of you, but another glance at him has your feet moving of their own accord.

Once he comes into full view, you notice in the moonlight that Mattheo’s nose shows the remnants of dried blood, there’s a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his knuckles are split open. It isn’t an unusual sight and you’ve often seen him around the castle either in the middle of a fight or with cuts and bruises as a result of one, yet you still find yourself staring.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow and smirks, despite the cut on his lip. “What, have I got something on my face?”

You blink, silent for a couple beats before clearing your throat. “Who, uhm, who did… this… to you?”

He shrugs, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to inhale. “Some Ravenclaw prick this morning.”

“How come you haven’t healed yourself?” you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. “You normally do by this point.”

Mattheo’s lips quirk up in sort of a pleased smile, his eyes crinkling. “You pay attention to me, do you?”

“No, I- It’s just,” you stammer, fiddling with the corner of your planner and avoiding his gaze. You most definitely do pay attention to him, but you’d much rather jump off the Astronomy tower than admit to it. “You’re always getting into fights. It’s kind of hard not to.”

It isn’t clear if he believes you or not, since his face still displays an unwavering smile, but he nods slowly before answering your previous question. “Enzo usually does it. The healing spells.”

You consider this and hesitate for a few seconds, biting your bottom lip in nervous habit before abruptly standing up and walking over to the Slytherin. Plopping down next to him, you take your wand out of your pocket, which he eyes warily.

“I know some healing spells,” you explain. Raising your eyebrows in question, you point your wand at his face and wait for his consent, which he gives in the form of a nod. Starting with his lip, you mutter “Episkey.” The cut seals itself up, so you do the same with his knuckles before using ‘Tergeo’ to siphon off the dried blood around his hands and nose.

“Back to looking flawless?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you choke out a laugh, surprised at how relaxed he’s being with you. Mattheo isn’t as brooding as the rest of his friends, but he certainly isn’t all sunshine and giggles with people he isn’t close with. And it’s not like the two of you have ever conversed before, so you’re a little more than puzzled. Not that you’re complaining. “What’s had you so exhausted this week?”

“Hermione’s been staying up knitting and I can’t sleep through it like the others,” you sigh, moving back to sit against the pillar like Mattheo is. This is your first night coming to the Astronomy Tower though, so you furrow your brows and turn to Mattheo to tell him exactly that. “How do you-”

“You’ve been nodding off at breakfast,” he says, matter-of-fact. You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth but not having anything to say. Mattheo notices your loss for words and swallows, suddenly sheepish. The tips of his ears have turned a light pink and he shuffles, making your shoulders touch slightly. “I pay attention to you too.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, heart about to burst out of your chest. You look down to where his hand is on the floor next to yours and in a brave move, you move your own so your pinkies are touching.

Mattheo is silent when he interlocks your fingers, meeting your eyes. His smile reappears, one that feels reserved for you. You’ve never seen him look more gentle before, and when he finally reaches over to kiss you in the quiet, moonlit tower surrounded by the stars, you begin wishing you’d started losing sleep weeks ago.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x fem reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle x y/n

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taetr4ck · 10 months ago

Note

Can i request a drabble about how skz will treat you like a princess as their s/o?

Also, can i be "💌" anon?

and all these little things —

he who loves, dances upon the tapestry of stars.

skz!hyung line x reader, 1.1k words overall, brief mention of struggling with food (nothing descriptive) — fluff, comfort, a sprinkle of angst. maknae line here

a/n : hi of course my love !!! the moment i received this ask i never opened my laptop this fast LMFAOOOOOOOOO and yes of course, you can be 💌 anon! welcome to my blog, and i hope you enjoy this request !! ily <3 and pardon me for breaking this into two parts ,, i’ve been itching to post this 😭 my attention span is actually comparable to a goldfish 😞 but the maknae line is almost finished! just need to sprinkle some spice here and there

bang chan who acknowledges your inner child —

A promise — a promise Chan swore to himself that he would love every inch and aspect of you, including your inner child that was once abandoned and neglected. He never failed to make you feel loved, a love one can’t find anywhere else – a love that was made for you. He’s lovely, he’s lovely. His affection makes your whole being buttery, smoothly melting in his touch. His love is different from anyone else’s – it’s as if your heart bloomed with flowers that smell like him, and the surroundings suddenly light up when he enters the room.

He never neglected you. Not even once. His gaze is always fixated on you every time you talk – your voice is a sweet melody to him as if every word you say is coated with honey.

Tap, tap, tap. The gentle taps of his finger on your skin when you feel like the world is deceiving you give you a sense of comfort – accompanied by an arm wrapping around your defeated, exhausted body, keeping you safe and understood. The familiar gesture and warmth seeping into your skin keep you grounded amidst your sobs, those sobs that never fail to make his heart shatter every time you surrender your tired soul to him. He whispers sweet mumbles in your ear, as if his only goal is to protect you. He is love, he is solace itself.

He is the aurora that loves in what in you is unfinished, the aurora that embraces the little child in the shackles of your healing heart. The world may be against you, but you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine; he’s always here.

lee know who cooks a hearty meal for you —

There was never a day when Minho didn’t cook for you. The living space is always surrounded by the aroma of his cooking – making your stomach growl with anticipation. He smiles as he hands you a bowl full of your favorite food, looking at you with stars in his eyes. The simple gesture is enough to make your heart flutter, tugging at every string. Eating the meal together that he wholeheartedly made is enough for him to die a happy man – for him, it’s more than enough. Sharing a meal together is a love language, his love language.

When he’s away, he sends you recipes for you to make on your own. It reminds you of the times he always cooked for you – your arms wrapped around his waist, leaning on the circle of his back. His warmth may be absent at the moment, but his love and familiarity still permeate through the quiet shared space. You will see him soon, just wait a little longer.

In times when eating isn’t an option, silently working at the desk in your shared bedroom, Minho is always here to remind you to eat. He knows the feeling of working on an empty stomach, and he doesn’t want you to experience the same agony. From hourly fruit snacks to full meals delivered right to your table, he never fails to make you feel as if you deserve to be cared for. You deserve to be cared for. It’s as if he’s an angel in disguise, destined only for you to pamper and nurture. In times when you can’t take care of yourself, he does it for you. He plays the role he chose, to cherish and love you as a whole.

changbin who never lets you lift a hand —

The living embodiment of chivalry, as they always say about him. Changbin never lets you lift a hand – not even a finger. The door of his car, the door of your favorite restaurant, the bags of groceries with a cute backstory – Changbin giggles and smiles at you every time you pick something from the grocery shelf, red hearts evident in both of his eyes, showing how lovestruck he is – completely captivated by you.

Changbin goes to the extent of even carrying your things – your pretty handbag, your school or work backpack – he doesn’t want you to strain even a fiber of your muscle. Heck, he’d even carry you if he wanted to. Whatever it is, he got you.

He loves to serve you, and he's sworn to be devoted to you. Love always has a center, and it’s you who centers his heart and his whole being. You’re his princess, and he is the knight. The knight who’s willing to do anything, ready to carry it all – he’s willing to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if that's what it takes to be with you. He doesn’t want anything in return; he just wants you to stay by his side and let him take care of the rest. He adores you more than you'll ever know, and he surely knows he was made for you.

hyunjin who notices every detail —

He who notices everything — your hair, your perfume, the shade of your new lipstick – everything. Nothing can escape Hyunjin’s loving gaze, as if his eyes were made to look at you – to worship every inch of your skin, to tell you you’re beautiful, beautiful that he can ever endure. He looks at you as if you were the only thing that matters to him. You’re beautiful. He looks at you like you are more than the pain you’ve ever endured. You don’t understand why, but he never fails to make you feel things – tugging heartstrings every time he utters his worship, your skin heating to the feel of his feathery touch – his touch that feels like home, his kisses that feel like a sanctuary.

“You’re so beautiful,” those are exactly the words he always says. Every time you wake up, gaze still unsteady; every time you two go out for a date, every time you’re stressed – hair disheveled, dark circles evident under your eyes. And even when you’re in slumber – whispering his never-ending devotion beside your sleeping figure, full of content and peace. His tone is full of sincerity, making your heart flutter with tenderness and adoration. His love makes you overwhelmed, but that’s only because his love is always honest.

Hyunjin spent most of his life running away from love until you gave him the courage to try. It’s like you’re the rose that suddenly bloomed in a garden full of camellias. After a long time of suffering from longing and madness, love was finally bestowed upon him. The first bite of your pure and genuine love seemed to have taken him aback; each bite overwhelming to the core. Your sudden entrance into his life silenced the monsters in his mind – ceasing every inch of darkness surrounding within. He didn’t prepare, he was never prepared. You’re his light, providing love and sunshine with no end. He’s a hopeless romantic, after all. Except that it’s not hopeless anymore.

taglist: @agi-ppangx @skzstarnet / taglist form

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

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lovecla · 3 months ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ chapter warnings: mention of depression/depressive episodes, calories, bad relationship with food and shitty family, hurt/comfort.

➴ word count: 2.3k

💌 from me to you: and now, TYPA has officially surpassed IYLMLMK word count!! how are we feeling about that? i’m feeling like the world’s biggest yapper ever but i just feel like quinn and maddie’s relationship reaches a whole other level of love and intimacy and i want u guys to feel that. by the end of this story, please let me know (hah) if i reached my goal :) enjoy this chapter and ily all so much! wrote this while listening to madison beer and while it was raining, cannot think of a better combo. also, this chapter hurts and heals me at the same time, and i hope it does the same to you.

౨ৎ

2024, MAY.

“THIS ISN’T much casual of us, is it?” you joke as you leave the car, opening the back door so you could get Bella while Quinn got your bags.

“Where’s the fun in being casual?” he jokes back, making you bite your lips, trying to hide your smile.

You and Quinn had decided to start over again, and take it easy. You were best friends and he knew you like no one else, but you grew up and, even if you didn’t want to admit it, you’d changed.

When he suggested that you go out for date nights and things people do whenever they want to be with someone, you thought that it would be a great idea. Spending time with him was one of your favorite things about living in Vancouver, so there was nothing to worry about.

Until he started to ask questions– nothing unexpected, just things like “is your favorite color still blue?” (no, I prefer purple now,) or “do you still like chocolate chip pancakes?” (more than I like myself, really,). And in the beginning it hadn’t bothered you, no, it had actually made you feel happy, wanted.

Until you remembered who you’d become.

After he and his family left, it was just you and your thoughts alone with each other, both wanting to run away but stuck inside your head. It was the things you heard from your mom, the fact that she liked to remind you that you were nothing but a shadow inside your own family and unless you were perfection itself, you wouldn’t have anything more than what she was willing to give you.

It was hearing your father, who barely spoke to you, yell at you for the tiniest things and look at you like you were the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

It was watching Peter, who once had been your best friend, your rock, your safe person, distancing himself from you, ignoring you whenever you spoke to him, leaving the sink full of dishes whenever that housekeeper wasn’t around because he knew you’d be the one cleaning them.

It was too much, and you were only fifteen. You were alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the intense, obsessive stalking of Quinn’s Instagram account, trying to understand why it was so easy for people to leave you behind.

But you didn’t blame him, or your family, how could you? It was all your doing. Maybe if you hadn’t spent too much time at the Hughes’ house, maybe if you hadn’t asked Peter to play with you so much, maybe if you were thinner and more like the models that worked at your mom’s magazine, maybe if you had been born a boy who also went to Med school, like your brother, then maybe, just maybe, things would’ve been different.

And then you moved to Los Angeles and just when you thought that things would get better, that you would get better, it all starts again. The dark days where you couldn’t do anything besides laying on your bed all day, sleeping for hours and eating perhaps a single meal per day– when and if you managed to get out of bed.

Showering became a dreadful thought because just the idea of seeing yourself in the mirror made you want to disappear. Realizing that the girl who once loved everything she touched, the girl that wore her heart outside of her body like an accessory turned into this lifeless body that rotted in bed for days made your stomach hurt and the tears run down your face.

Nicholas had been the one who helped you get out of that dark, evil place your mind had trapped you in, even when he didn’t know the reason behind it. He suggested that you should adopt a dog, the idea initially making you laugh because “I don’t want to can barely take care of myself, Nicholas, why should I adopt another living being?”. But he said that maybe you just needed a reason to keep going, and a pet could be one.

You ignored his advice, because it sounded ridiculous to you. But, one day, when you were on your way home from work, you walked past a shelter and decided to just take a look– leaving an hour later after a long cuddle session with the old dogs and Bella in your arms, eyes wet with tears when you noticed her sitting by herself, alone.

I know what it feels like, you answered when one of the workers asked you what made you choose her.

And she helped you get better, day by day, week after week. You finally spoke more than five words a week and you weren’t sleeping by yourself for the first time in years.

It felt nice to take care of someone.

But even though you got better, some days that sad, ugly feeling still made your skin crawl and your head hurt. It still came back, it still made you feel like shit.

And you didn’t want people to see that, you didn’t want Quinn to see that.

You knew that he would worry and try to find a way of helping you, just like he did whenever you had a sad day when you were younger, but you couldn’t do that to him, it wasn’t fair.

Besides that, you’re going to leave Canada in September. This thing you had going on with Quinn, no matter how happy it made you, was temporary, it wasn’t meant to last forever.

So you had to make sure that the time you spent with him was anything but perfect.

“This is so pretty” you compliment the cabin he had rented for the weekend, your first weekend off ever since you started working with your favorite brand, watching Bella roll on the green grass. “Feels like a movie.”

Quinn chuckles, opening the door for you and Bella before he gets inside with your and his bags.

If you thought the outside was pretty, the inside was ten thousand times better. The interior was a mix of stone with dark wood, the walls covered with floor to ceiling windows and the floor filled with fluffy, warm rugs. The living room couch could perfectly fit twenty people, and the kitchen had the most beautiful view you’d ever seen.

Bella started running around the second you unleashed her, jumping on the couch and sniffing the rugs, going upstairs and barking happily.

“I think Bella also likes the place,” you smile, getting closer to Quinn and kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer before initiating a sweet, gentle kiss, briefly caressing your tongue with his. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste, a weird mixture that you couldn’t get enough of.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweets,” he whispers against your lips before giving you a peck. “I asked the owners to fill up the pantry with baking stuff. I know you like to bake when you’re stressed.”

Your first instinct was to deny that you were stressed and say that you were just fine, but as always, he could see right through you. It had been a stressful week, with weird schedules and locations, besides getting used to living in another city, again.

But you thought you were doing a great job at hiding your true feelings from Quinn.

Well. Maybe not.

“I’m much better now,” you answer, not exactly lying. You are much better now. “But I guess it won’t hurt to bake a pie or two.”

“Great.” He hugs you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Let’s organize our things, and you’re free to go.”

You smile, excited to forget about your responsibilities for two days straight.

౨ৎ

BAKING FOR Quinn was now your favorite activity.

He didn’t try to get in your way like most people do whenever they see someone cooking, no. He sat on one of the stools and played with Bella while you explained to him the steps for baking the most perfect blueberry lattice pie in the entire world.

You noticed something while spending these past few weeks with Quinn: whenever you were around him, it was like calories and dieting didn’t matter. It was almost as if that voice that lived inside of your brain, who liked to remind you that you shouldn’t, couldn’t gain weight— because then you wouldn’t be perfect, the only thing your mom wanted for you— vanished, and only nice thoughts remained.

You have read about this before, in books and posts online— about people getting better because of other people. And even though you knew it was possible for someone to enjoy living again because of something (it happened with you and Bella), the thought of getting better because of another person hadn’t crossed your mind before having Quinn back in your life again.

It was nice.

The pie was ready after an hour and a half, looking deliciously tasty and perfect, which made you smile and snap a bunch of pictures of it.

You and Quinn sat down at the living room table, watching the sun setting through the windows and arguing with each other about which place had the nicest sunset: Vancouver or Los Angeles. You cut him a slice, which earned you a quick peck on your lips and a raspy thank you, watching as he munched on the pie, satisfied with his pleased reaction.

“This is my first time eating blueberry pie ever since you left.”

Quinn’s statement makes you pause, fork mid air, a slice of pie falling back onto your place.

You frown, confused. “What do you mean? You spent the last seven years without eating your favorite pie? Why?”

“What made this pie my favorite one was the fact that you were the one baking it,” he laughs humorlessly, staring at the half eaten slice on his plate. “When my mom tried making it for me a few years ago, I ended up snapping at her and earning a slap from my dad.”

“That wasn't very nice of you,” you chuckle, putting the fork down. “But I get what you mean. After you left I–” I stopped caring about everything else. “I stopped baking. Mom didn’t appreciate how caloric my food was and my dad—” he called my cooking disgusting once. “Well, he’s not a fan of sweets.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologies, and you’re not even sure why.

“What? No, it’s fine, you didn’t do anything wrong by leaving—”

“I meant I’m sorry about your family.”

You stare at him, fighting back the tears that immediately formed in your eyes. Blinking them away, you shrug.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t, Maddie, and you know it.” He grabs your hand underneath the table, running his thumb up and down on the back of your hand, the familiar touch making you smile.

“They’re the only family I have,” you tried to sound playful, only being half successful. “It’s alright, Quinny, I swear. Besides, we’re not here to talk about my family.” you change the topic quickly, not wanting to ruin the vibe with stories about your not so happy family.

He raises his right eyebrow at you. “Then why are we here?”

“Bella, look at him asking dumb questions,” you turn around, talking to Bella who was currently extremely busy destroying her carrot shaped toy on the carpet. “We’re here to watch my favorite movies and drink hot chocolate.”

“It’s May,” he points out.

“And?”

“It’s almost summer. No one drinks hot chocolate in May,”

“Oh my God, should we call the police? Should we invite Willy Wonka?” you laugh, getting off the chair. “Come on. I know you want it.”

“Do I at least get to choose the movie?” he theatrically sighs, also getting off the chair and following you around the gigantic cabin.

“I’ll see what I can do for you.”

You end up letting him choose the movie while you prepared the hot chocolate, which later you would regret, because he had chosen The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, a movie that you had never seen before and will probably never watch again.

You were sitting beside him, trying your hardest to hide your tears and sniffles, because, surprisingly, Quinn looked like he was enjoying the depressing, extremely sad movie.

But you probably weren’t doing a great job because— “Baby?”

You only hum, hiding your face in your knees.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he whispers, changing his position on the couch, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to his chest, adjusting your body so you were lying on top of him, face buried in his neck. “There’s no need for you to cry, baby.”

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed and somewhat childish for breaking out like this in front of him, when he was clearly enjoying the movie.

“What are you sorry for? There’s nothing wrong with crying because you’re sad,” he kisses your temple, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling one of your thighs up, fitting you perfectly against him. “I should be the one saying sorry. I saw Jim Carrey and thought the movie was going to be funny.”

You let out a wet chuckle, inhaling his comforting scent and wishing you could stay like this forever.

He runs his thumb on your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You feel him moving around and suddenly the movie’s sounds stop, and you wonder what he’s doing, too lazy to look up and see it for yourself.

But after Mabel’s characteristic laugh, you find yourself smiling and lifting your head to stare at Gravity Falls playing on the huge TV.

“Do you still like this dumbass cartoon?” Quinn asks, making you smile wider.

“It’s not dumb. And, yeah, it’s still my favorite.”

“Good.”

After that you both stay quiet for a long time, the only sounds coming from Bella’s snores, the TV, and occasionally, your laugh.

Quinn knew exactly what to do with you, even when not even you knew what had— needed— to be done. He held you close that night and your heart felt lighter and steadier.

You wanted to be his.

So. Bad.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, justinbieber, lhughes_06 and 701,013 others

madisoncarter spring day

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user1 ?????????

user1 MADISON WHAT THE HELL

vic_alonso Oooooh myyy goddd

maddiecarter_updates Is this a soft launch? What?

user2 maddiecarter_updates you know shit is bad when even maddiecarterupdates is confused 😭

user3 let’s not assume things guys omg leave her alone

user7 madison you’re going to get fatter with all these carbs xx

jackhughes user7 fuck off.

user4 GUYS LOOK AT QUINN’S STORY

user5 user4 LMFAO THEYRE NOT EVEN HIDING IT

user6 user4 I’m losing the idgaf war…

user8 user4 DID YOU GUYS SEE JACK’S COMMENT WHICH ONE OF THE HUGHES IS SHE BANGING

_quinnhughes added a new story!

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

#quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl players #hockey #TYPA

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gengernoway · 1 month ago

Text

✦、CANNIBAL XENOID：XID-09

A xenoID related to Cannibals, cannibalism and its entanglement with you, in any way. This identity may also be related to the voracious love cannibals display, the eating of loved ones or strangers, longing for another human meal like your life depends on it. Always preying on a butchers vein.

✦、TAGGING：@radiomogai、@bluecube-coins、@rwuffles、@smilepilled、 to be removed from the taglist, reply to the post with that request.

[colors taken from rabidbatboys cannibal nonhuman flag]

#cannibal #✧ vermins gift ~ coining #✦ him. who is love itself ~ (💌)#mogai #mogai safe #liom #mogai coining #mogai gender #liom coining #liom community #liom safe #liom term #liomogai #mogai label #mogai term #mogai flag #pro mogai #XID：category #XID-09

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ghoulsbounty · 7 months ago

Note

If you’re still taking requests I would love Baby Billy with the reader giving him a blowjob in a car if you can. You can do the plot and all that, thank you! I might request more if you’re taking them at the moment.

Heaven Itself

Uncle Baby Billy Freeman x Wife!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), blowjob, oral (m receiving), cum eating (kinda), fingering, roadhead, spitkink-ish, rough oral sex, messy, face fucking, choking, gagging, dirty talk, reader is a good girl, porn with a little plot.

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: OH BOY I love writing dirty things with this weird man. I realise I took 'giving him a blowjob in a car' and completely ran with it but I hope you enjoy it regardless, Anon. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

It unfolded just as you had expected. You wished that Baby Billy would stop with the schemes, cease seeking approval from everyone else, especially his late sister's family. Yet, the allure of the coveted position of pastor at the new Locust Grove location, and the payday that would come with it, had drawn him back into their fold. You remained supportive, though with a quiet pessimism that always accompanied your husband's involvement with the Gemstones. It wasn't that you didn't like them, but they seemed to bring out the worst in him, and it was a side you rarely saw when it was just the two of you back home at Freeman's Gap.

Of course, it had happened again. Another argument with his brother-in-law, and Baby Billy had stormed out of the church, relinquishing the title of pastor and dragging you along with him to the car. It was a scene that played out at least once a month, and so when you caught Eli's exhausted eye roll as you were pulled through the doors, you gave him a silent nod. It was a signal that conveyed your resolve to sort everything out—not for Eli, of course, but for the sake of your husband's reputation and perhaps your own sanity.

Baby Billy gripped the wheel with white-knuckled intensity as you hurtled down the narrow, curving roads. The tires skidded on the tarmac with every tight turn, your stomach rising and falling with each dip as he accelerated so forcefully that you were pressed back into your seat. His eyes were wild, fixed in a furious glare at the road ahead, completely ignoring your pleas to slow down as your hand tightened around his thigh.

The rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins, mingling with a hint of fear as you clung to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your attempts to calm him, he seemed consumed by a reckless determination, his foot heavy on the pedal as he pushed the car to its limits.

With each passing moment, the world outside became a blur, the only constants the roar of the engine beneath you and his frustrated rant about the head of the Gemstones. His words came out in a torrent of anger, punctuated by the car's aggressive growl as it hurtled forward.

"Fuck Eli Gemstone," he declared vehemently. "He thinks he's so high and mighty, but he'd be nothing without Aimee-Leigh. And who made her? That's right, Baby Billy Freeman, that's who. He'd be nothing without the both of us."

His words hung heavy in the air, charged with anger. The car sped on, each mile marker blurring past as he continued to vent his frustrations. His grip on the wheel remained tight as he poured out years of pent-up resentment.

You had heard it all before. You'd listened to him lament the loss of his sister and his career, watched him pine over what he had once had, and seen him almost scream in frustration over the fact that he had to keep going back to his brother-in-law for handouts.

The weight of his struggles was heavy on your shoulders, a burden you bore alongside him with each passing day. You had witnessed the toll it took on him, the way it gnawed at his pride and eroded his sense of self-worth. Yet, despite it all, he persevered, driven by a determination to reclaim what he had lost and prove himself worthy of the respect he felt he deserved.

After each failed business venture, it always took so long to rebuild Baby Billy, to piece him back together again. You had been through this cycle before, weathering the storms of disappointment and setbacks together. Each time, you had stood by his side, offering unwavering support and encouragement as he picked up the pieces of his shattered dreams. And as the darkened landscape passed you in a blur, you mentally prepared yourself for the arduous task ahead, knowing that it would begin with getting him out of his own head.

Your hand on his thigh slid higher, your fingers teasingly dancing over his crotch as you swiftly worked on the belt and zipper of his jeans. His rant lost momentum, his gaze locking onto you with a wondrous glint before watching your hand disappear into his pants.

"Keep those eyes on the road, Baby," you instructed, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips as you boldly grabbed his cock through his boxers. He emitted a low groan, desire igniting in his eyes, yet he dutifully complied with your command, refocusing his attention on the road ahead.

"Ol' Baby Billy getting some roadhead, now? Alright," he chuckled, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he adjusted himself in his seat and spread his legs wider, eagerly anticipating your next move.

Baby Billy seethed through his teeth as you liberated his cock from the confines of his tight jeans, already half-hard and throbbing in your palm. You felt the weight of him as he sat thick and heavy in your hand, hummed affectionately when he pulsed against your touch.

With practiced skill, you began to stroke him gently, feeling him grow harder, larger, in your grip. Your thumb traced teasing circles over his weeping slit, eliciting a low, guttural moan from him as he instinctively bucked into your hand, craving more of your touch.

You chuckled, unclipped your seatbelt and manoeuvred in your seat so that your legs were folded beneath you, leaning over the arm rest that sat between you both. His hand closest to you left the wheel, hung over you almost hesitantly before resting on your back with a soothing stroke.

The air around you crackled with tension, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with the steady hum of the engine as he slowed the car to an normal-pace. You smiled to yourself, inwardly praised yourself for knowing how this man ticks. You always managed to bring him back from the ledge that he put himself on.

As you took one tentative lick at his slit, Baby Billy gasped, his grip tightening on the fabric of your dress. You squeezed the base of his cock, flicking your tongue over him again and lapping at the salty tang that you craved.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, his hips instinctively rutting upwards for more as you pulled away with a teasing smile. Undeterred, you continued to stroke him leisurely, lifting your head up to kiss him momentarily on the cheek before dipping back down. With deliberate slowness, you spat a thick slew of saliva onto his aching, red tip before spreading it over him with your tongue, eliciting a low groan of pleasure from him.

"Well, if that ain't the best gotdamn thing I've ever felt," he sighed with satisfaction, his hand releasing its grip on your dress to tangle into your hair. "Hallelujah!"

As you hummed appreciatively around his cock, he guided your head down further, his hand urging you to take him in completely. The sensation of your throat constricting around him was intoxicating to him, a release of pent-up frustrations manifested in the rhythmic thrusts of his hips. Each choked gasp and whimper that escaped your lips fuelled his desire, a primal need to dominate and possess.

This dynamic between you had evolved over time, growing increasingly raw and intense with each passing year. You had embraced your role as the devoted wife, willing to fulfil his desires and provide him with the release he sought, no matter how unconventional or demanding they may be. And for Baby Billy, this unwavering loyalty was a source of comfort, a reassurance that despite the challenges and setbacks he faced, you would always be there for him, ready to support and submit to his needs.

You concentrated on keeping your jaw how you knew he liked it—slack and drool dripping down his shaft as he began to bob your head up and down with his grip in your hair. He set a rhythm that had you gasping for breath. The slickness between your thighs grew with each thrust, the taste of him—a salty bitterness—overwhelming your senses as he bullied his way deep into the back of your throat.

"Fuck, you look so good like this," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Choking on my cock, drool everywhere... you love it, don't you?" His hips thrust harder, his grip in your hair tightening as he took his pleasure from your willing mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure building between them. His words of praise and filthy words always had you burning for his touch, your desire growing with each moment as he continued to use your mouth as a cocksleeve. Yet, despite the overwhelming urge to seek your own pleasure, your focus remained solely on his.

His grip on the back of your head tightened as he began to thrust up to meet the descent of your mouth, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. You felt a sharp intake of breath escape him as he pushed down roughly, hitting the back of your throat yet again but holding you there, your breath cut short as his cock filled your mouth entirely and you retched around him. His prideful chuckle cut through the air, and you clenched your eyes shut, thinking of how bruised you were going to be after this but revelling in it none the less as you willed your throat to relax it's spasms.

Finally, he released you, bringing you up for a gasp of air as your fat tears mixed with the thick saliva coating your chin. You took in deep, ragged breaths, your chest heaving with exertion as you blinked away the tears. Your body trembled from the intensity he loved to put you through, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

He looked down at you with a mixture of pride and satisfaction, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection. "Always so good for me."

You shivered at his words, the ache between your thighs was almost unbearable, your arousal heightened by his praise and the soft touch amidst the rough handling.

"Such a good girl," he repeated, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His fingers traced your lips before slipping inside your mouth. "Get them good and wet, now."

You eagerly obeyed, swirling your tongue around his fingers as he watched you intently, his gaze dark with desire and satisfaction. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he suddenly veered off the road, coming to a hard stop on the dirt path. You jolted back against your seat, Baby Billy pulling you back over the armrest with your face in his lap and your ass in the air, on display to anyone who would drive past you on the dark back road. The hand that was on the wheel now gripped the back of your head instead, guiding your mouth back to his cock with a sense of urgency.

As he directed you with one hand, the other deftly flipped up the fabric of your dress, slipping beneath your soaking underwear. The touch of his fingers against your heated flesh sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire of desire that burned hot within you.

You moaned around him as his digits glided through your wet folds, your body instinctively seeking more of his touch as you swivelled your hips back hungrily to find friction against his palm. He laughed, his head thrown back against the headrest as he looked down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I know you get yourself all worked up looking after me, now," he told you, the warmth of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "But you know Baby Billy will look after you too, sweetheart. A man's got to see to his wife."

You whimpered as two fingers entered you, thick and demanding, your body eagerly accepting the intrusion as you arched against his touch. The squelch of your cunt burned your cheeks with embarrassment as he fucked his fingers in and out of you with a relentless pace. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the tension in your body to unbearable heights.

Your screams vibrated around his cock as his thumb rubbed deliberate circles on your clit, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, as he expertly manipulated your sensitive nub, driving you closer and closer to the edge with each tantalizing stroke.

His other hand now rested at the back of your neck, holding you in place as his hips thrust up to fuck your mouth aggressively. You remained slack-jawed and slobbering over him, completely at his mercy as he took control. This was Baby Billy in his element, relishing in the power he held over you, using your mouth as a tool for his pleasure while simultaneously bringing you to your own bliss.

He liked to push you to your limits, to see how much you could take as he drove himself deeper and deeper into your throat. Each thrust was met with a gasp from you, your body straining to accommodate his relentless rhythm. Yet, despite the discomfort, you remained obedient, knowing that this was what he wanted, what he needed.

"I know you like it," he groaned, his eyes closed when your tongue began to lap greedily at his cock with every thrust. "Fuck, you love it when I fuck your mouth, don't ya? Having you here, stuffed with my fingers and my cock, you—fuck—you just eat that shit right up." His voice was rough with desire, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him

You could feel it building, the tell-tale signs of his impending release. His thighs tightened, his hips stuttered against you, and his breathing became ragged as praise fell from his lips. You knew it was coming soon, the moment when he would finally give you his load, and you braced yourself for the inevitable surge of ecstasy.

You were almost there, too. The familiar pit in your lower stomach, the delicate feeling of teetering on the edge as his fingers curled inside of you, pressing into that spongey spot that had you seeing stars. A muffled cry escaped your lips as you pushed back to meet his relentless assault on your cunt, the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses.

The sensation was electrifying, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation as you rode the waves of ecstasy crashing over you. With each thrust of his fingers and each stroke of his thumb on your clit, you felt yourself spiralling closer and closer to the edge.

And then it hit you, a wave of pleasure so intense it left you breathless. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, pleasure rippling through you as you cried out. The sloppy sounds of him fucking you through your orgasm filled the car as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure shooting through you.

"That's it, let Baby Billy hear you, now," he panted, grinning as your garbled mewls grew louder, more spit gushing around him as he refused to stop his ministrations against you. You tried to wriggle away from his attention, your cunt now swollen and clenching around his digits that remained buried inside you. He chuckled breathily, his fingers coming to a still as they slid from you. He ran his hand up the expanse of your back.

Your body relaxed against the leather seat, tired and spent from your orgasm as your fingers released their tight grip on the arm rest. You pulled away from him, sucked in a deep breath, a string of spit connecting from his cock to your glistening lips. You felt empty and groaned at the loss of fullness, but didn't have time to contemplate it before both Baby Billy's hands were in your hair, using them to shove his way inside of you ruthlessly. He fell into a maddening pace, his hips rutting as his drool covered sac slapped against your chin.

"That's it angel," he said encouragingly, his breath short as he dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "You take everything I give you."

With a few more powerful thrusts, he comes with a loud shout from deep in his chest, releasing thick, white ropes down your throat. You swallow quickly, determined to take his heavy load as he desires, but there's always so much of it. It drips from the corners of your mouth, rolls down your chin as your chest heaves to suppress the rest of it. After the last few spurts have subsided, you lick diligently at his swollen tip, gratefully lapping up any traces that you couldn't take beforehand. Tucking him back inside his jeans, you raise back onto your knees to look at him with a fucked out gaze that has his chest warming.

He smiled at you with tired eyes, reaching out to cup your cheek. With a gentle swipe, he collected the salty residue of his release from your chin and guided it back between your lips. He was adamant that not a drop of him go to waste. You obediently cleaned it from his thumb, watching him through wet lashes before pulling away with a soft pop.

Your husband held your chin between his thumb and finger, giving it a slight shake as he smiled. His voice was laced with satisfaction and affection as he murmured, "Sent from Heaven itself."

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