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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months ago

Note

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

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shidoglazer · 2 months ago

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🔞 nagi seishiro oneshot mdni size kink

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

NAGI SEISHIRO who has a size kink, but doesn’t even know it. he just happens to like how he can use you as an arm rest. during anytime, wether you two are taking a train or just talking to your friends, he’ll rest his arm on your head and you’ll just accept it, though you don’t really understand why his nonchalance starts to falter whenever he did so. he also just happens to like how easily he could pick you up and take you wherever he wants, he thinks it makes you look cute and vulnerable for him. he’ll hold you by your armpits like a disobedient cat, staring at you with a >:/ expression whenever you mess up his high score, but when he puts you down you swear you could feel a graze of his boner in his pants. other than that, he also really just happens to like you sitting in his lap, seeing the size difference of you and his thighs. yours were plump and small, while his was muscular and was bigger then your head. and he also just happened to really like when he’s fucking you and can see his ginormous cock bulging out of your petite abdomen. he couldn’t be more obvious about it, thats what you think.

during sex, theres no doubt that he likes to relax and let you do the work for him, but sometimes when he’s feeling pent up or frustrated, he’ll fuck you in missionary. and seeing his cock bulge out from your stomach, feeling how tight your little pussy is around his cock and how you’re basically getting ripped apart by it fuels his motivation to fuck you, and suddenly he’s going full wild animal on you. he presses down on your stomach to feel the small lump his cock makes in you, sloppily kissing every part of your body as his thrusts become more rougher and faster. it was like a new person, what happened to the nagi who said being rough is too much of a hassle?

“i- ah! fucking shit!, mnggghh, sei, whats gotten into y- hnngh! too- fast!” in response, he places a kiss on your forehead as “compensation” while he continues to fuck ruthlessly into you, getting more and more turned on from when he sees your small figure squirming under him, saying how its “too fast”, but doesn’t find you trying to escape it anyways.

“so cute, angel. i love you so much..” he places a kiss on your neck, “gonna cum? that’s alright, cmon.”

if only his sweet words matched his actions. he continuously pounds into you as his warm palm presses against your abdomen, hitting your climax even faster. “n-nagi! cummin- cumming! don’t stop, please! fuck fuck fuck, mnnfnggh!!!..” as you came, he slowed down his pace just for a little while before his hand trailed up to your face, brushing your bangs away. “i’m sorry, darling.” “..huh?-“ before you could say another word, hes continuing his relentless assault on your hole, making you let out a guttural moan as your back arched and legs trembling. “no no no!, nagi, i’m still sensitive- hnnghaahh! ffuck,”

he couldn’t help but feel a little bad when he saw your petite figure squirming and overstimulated under him, quickening his pace to finish up quickly as he rutted into you deeply, making your insides feel warm, he groaned softly as his weight fell onto yours, breath laboured.

“haaah, sei,, you stupid jerk!..”

“mmn. sorry angel y’felt too good. cmon, i’ll clean you up.”

after a few weeks, you brought this up with nagi.

“nagi.” you stared at him seriously as he looked up from his phone, tilting his head, wondering if he did anything wrong.

“angel.”

“do you have a size kink?” you asked in full seriousness.

“like when the other is smaller then me?”

“yeah, exactly. so do you have it?”

he had to think for a long moment. did he have a size kink? he just happened to like that you were smaller then him, but it was purely innocen- wait. no it wasn’t. he really did have a size kink, and that was the first time he ever noticed it about himself. he hummed, looking back at his phone with that usual blank expression.

“dunno. guess i do.” he was so nonchalant about it you felt like ripping his hair out.

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itneverendshere · 11 months ago

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school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe imagine #bimbo!rafe #smart!reader #soccer!rafe #frat!rafe #rafe blurb

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rose24207 · 3 months ago

Text

An angel

Summary: guilt eats Lando alive when he wants to come clean to you after dating you for a bet. What he didn’t expect was that you would be so understanding and calm about it.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x f!reader

TW: Carlos and max being assholes (sryy), Lando too

A/N: I genuinely think that I would also react like this and I think that’s pretty much sums up the person I am :(

Masterlist pt. 2

It was supposed to be a joke. That’s what Lando told himself when it all started. A stupid, harmless joke that spiraled so far out of control, he found himself falling in love with you—only to be crushed by the weight of his own lie.

The bet was Carlos’ idea, though Max quickly joined in. They were sitting together at a bar in Monaco after a long day of training, laughing and teasing each other like they always did. That’s when you walked in, a vision of effortless beauty, with a smile so captivating even the loud music seemed to fade into the background.

Carlos noticed the way Lando’s gaze lingered on you. “You’re staring, mate,” he teased, nudging him.

Max smirked. “Bet you couldn’t get her number.”

Lando rolled his eyes, feigning indifference. “Easy.”

But Carlos upped the stakes. “Forget her number—bet you can’t get her to date you. Three months, minimum. Make her fall for you.”

Lando hesitated, but Max chimed in, grinning. “If you win, we’ll cover your next holiday. Private jet, five-star everything.”

Fueled by bravado, ego, and the lingering effects of too many drinks, Lando shook their hands, sealing the deal.

The plan was simple: charm you, date you for a while, and win the bet. But nothing about you was simple.

When he approached you that night, he expected the same predictable reactions he always got—flustered stammering or overly enthusiastic flirting. Instead, you met him with warmth and genuine curiosity, treating him like a regular guy rather than the celebrity everyone else saw.

He was hooked.

Every date with you felt like uncharted territory. You laughed at his dumb jokes, shared your dreams with him, and listened intently as he opened up about his fears and insecurities. For the first time in his life, Lando felt truly seen.

What started as a game quickly became the most important thing in his life. But the secret of how it began loomed over him, a constant reminder of his betrayal. He told himself he’d find the right time to come clean, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

And now, three months in, he was drowning in guilt.

It was a quiet evening in his Monaco apartment. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through a magazine while he paced nervously in the kitchen. He had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in his head, but every scenario ended with you walking out the door.

“Y/N?” he called softly, his voice trembling.

You looked up, immediately sensing the tension. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?” he asked, his hands fidgeting.

You set the magazine aside, concern etching your features. “Of course. What’s going on?”

He sat down across from you, his heart pounding. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Your brows furrowed. “Okay…”

Lando took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember the night we met? At the bar?”

You nodded. “Of course. Why?”

“There’s… something I didn’t tell you about that night.” He hesitated, his stomach churning. “Carlos and Max… they made a bet with me. They bet I couldn’t get you to date me for three months. And I…” He swallowed hard, his eyes welling up. “I took the bet.”

Your expression froze, the weight of his words sinking in. “A bet?”

He nodded, his voice breaking. “At first, it was just stupid. I didn’t think it would matter. But then I got to know you, and everything changed. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. I swear, this—us—became real so quickly. But I lied to you, and I hate myself for it.”

Silence filled the room as you processed his confession. He braced himself for the anger, the heartbreak, the inevitable goodbye.

But what came next surprised him.

You reached out, taking his trembling hands in yours. “Lando,” you began gently, your voice calm but steady. “Thank you for telling me.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not… angry?”

“I won’t lie,” you admitted. “It hurts to know how it started. But what matters more to me is that you told me the truth. You didn’t let me find out from someone else, and I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

Tears spilled down his cheeks as he shook his head. “It wasn’t. I’ve been so scared of losing you, Y/N. You’re everything to me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I had to tell you. You deserve better than this.”

You squeezed his hands, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Lando, everyone makes mistakes. What matters is what you do after. You could’ve kept lying, but you didn’t. You chose honesty, even though it scared you. That says a lot.”

“I love you,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I love you so much. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you cupped his cheek, wiping away his tears. “I love you too. And I believe you. I believe in us.”

His breath hitched as he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like you were his lifeline. “You’re an angel,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re too good for me.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “I’m not an angel, Lando. I’m just someone who loves you enough to see the good in you, even when you make mistakes.”

From that moment on, things changed. Lando became a man on a mission, determined to show you how much he valued you. He went out of his way to make you feel loved and appreciated—surprising you with thoughtful gestures, supporting your dreams, and being more open and vulnerable than ever before.

The guilt still lingered, but your forgiveness gave him the strength to move forward. And as time passed, the scars of the bet faded, replaced by a love that was stronger than ever.

Because at the end of the day, love wasn’t about never making mistakes. It was about owning up to them, learning from them, and choosing each other—no matter what.

And as Lando held you close that night, he silently vowed to never take your love for granted again. You weren’t just the best thing that had ever happened to him—you were his everything.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x you #fluff #f1 #angst #formula one #formula 1 #bet #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #kindness #forgiveness

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hanniebaeee · 4 months ago

Text

Code Love

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!!

Genre: colleagues to lovers, flufffff

Summary: Hyunjin is a brilliant post doc at the lab where you're perusing your PhD. He is such a sweet and sexy genius, and you are completely in love.

a/n : For all my science/research girlies 🤭

It was another late night at the lab. You were squinting at the test tubes in front of you trying to make sense of the results. But you were struggling to concentrate with the way your heart was pounding.

He was just sitting there, at his workstation, effortlessly spinning a pipette between his long, elegant fingers. Nothing for your dramatic heart to pound like that.

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Huh?” you blinked, attempting to act like you hadn’t just been imagining how those fingers would feel on your - never mind.

“I said,” Hyunjin grinned, “you’re incubating that reaction too long.”

“Oh, um, I knew that” you fumbled with the timer, cheeks heating up. “Totally knew that. Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said, eyes sparkling like he enjoyed watching you unravel.

God, why was he like this?

That face? Those lips? And that brain? This was unfair. He had to have some flaw - how can a man be this perfect?

“Are you staying late tonight?” he asked casually, leaning back in his chair.

“I have to,” you mumbled. “This experiment is dragging on, and I have to submit the report by the end of the week.”

Hyunjin hummed, and said, “Oh good, I'll have some company then.”

You could literally see him doodling flowers into his book - he had nothing to do here. But yet every time you had to stay in late, he'd be hanging around too. Just the two of you.

Your brain immediately betrayed you, fueling your wild fantasy where he wasn’t staying late for work but because he secretly wanted to spend time alone with you. You were fighting so hard to maintain a shred of professionalism, but it was so hard when he was looking at you like that.

Hyunjin hummed softly under his breath as he continued to doodle, the sound sending tingles down your spine. Of course he was a good singer too. You just didn't understand what the universe even wanted from you anymore.

---

“I swear to God, Ji, if he twirls that pipette one more time, I’m going to launch myself across the lab bench, and just -” You were sprawled on the sofa in Jisung's apartment, sighing dramatically.

Jisung was your work bestie, working in the lab next door to yours. And he was the only one in the world who knew about your extreme devotion to Hyunjin.

Jisung burst out laughing, as he said, “This is bad, babe,”

“Bad? Jisung, I seriously can't even think when he's around.” you said. “Oh my God!!”

“Have you considered just telling him you like him?” Jisung smirked.

“Right, and ruin the perfectly good thing we have going where I pine silently while he ruins me with his brilliance? No, thank you.”

“You’re hopeless.”

---

The next late-night session happened way too soon, where Hyunjin wandered over to your bench, peering at your data from over your shoulder. He leaned in close, the scent of cologne (or whatever pheromones that he's sending your way) invading your senses - it's simply intoxicating.

“Want me to take a look at that?” he asked, “You've been spending way too much time on it.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, trying not to stutter. “It’s just...a lot of noise in the data.”

“Let me see,” he said, pulling a stool next to you. He reached for the keyboard, and your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours.

You wanted to cry. Please don't be so sweet and sexy at the same time, you begged internally. You cursed your body for betraying you with every glance while he explained what he was doing. You could feel the tension in your shoulders as you tried to focus on what he was saying.

Get a grip, Y/N, you reminded yourself. This is professional. Stop fantasizing about this ridiculously hot man who’s inexplicably obsessed with helping you.

When he finally looked up, you realized you’d been staring at him the whole time.

“What?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing... thanks. You’re really good at this,” you stammered.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re good at this too, Y/N. We all have our bad days. Don’t sell yourself short.” he said, patting your shoulder gently before standing up.

You felt your heart squeeze at the sincerity in his tone, and you watched as he went back to his own seat.

Stop it. He’s being nice. Don’t read into it. Just focus on the work.

But it was so hard not to read into it. The way he leaned closer when he spoke, the way his fingersa brushed against yours when he passed you something, and the way he was always so soft with you.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Y/N, I’m begging you. BEGGING. Tell him. I'm sure he's dying to hear it.” Jisung said, smiling at the girl who handed over our coffees at the cafe.

“You don’t get it! I can't risk it, if he's just being nice, then -”

“Babe,” Jisung drawled, “what world do you live in?!”

“Don’t give me hope, Ji.” you sighed as you walked towards your lab, the early morning breeze cool against your skin.

“Hope? The man stays late every time you do, flirts with you nonstop, and compliments you after he does your work for you. At this point, I’m falling for him,” Jisung said, throwing his hands up. “Seriously, babe, if you don’t jump him soon, I might.”

---

The cold room was your least favorite part of the lab. You hated everything about it - the freezing temperature, its claustrophobic size and the damn protein extraction procedure that drained the life out of you.

But here you were, miserably clutching your samples and praying for the nightmare to end soon.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin’s voice echoed through the door as it opened, and you turned to see him stepping in.

Great. Now you were cold and flustered.

“How's the extraction going?” he asked, his tone light as he slipped on his gloves.

“Going wonderfully,” you muttered, shivering despite your layers.

He grinned, coming closer and watching you work.

“Do you want me to take over?” He asked, making you sigh.

“And miss out on the joy of freezing to death? Never,” you joked weakly, and Hyunjin laughed. “You're too nice, Hyunjin. But I've got this.”

“Nice?” he repeated, leaning back slightly but still watching you intently. “You sure about that?”

You froze, suddenly way too aware of how close he was standing. Was he teasing you? Was this flirting?

“I- I mean, yeah,” you stammered, breaking eye contact. “You’re always helping me...”

“Maybe I have my reasons.” Hyunjin tilted his head, his smile softening.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you asked, “Reasons?”

Before he could answer, the door swung open.

“How's your favorite experiment going?” Jisung's loud voice floated in. “Oh, hi Hyunjin!”

You didn't know if you wanted to strangle Jisung for ruining the moment or hug him for saving you from it.

Hyunjin, ever the sweetheart, just laughed and said, “Hi Jisung, I think she's doing just fine,”

“Of course she is,” Jisung said, moving aside for Hyunjin to step out.

��What was that?” He asked as soon as Hyunjin left.

“What are you doing here?!” you hissed. “We were getting somewhere, but also, if you hadn't come I would've fainted. Like I feel so dizzy, my gloves are all wet from sweating-”

“Y/N,” Jisung said, gripping your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “You like him. He obviously likes you. The universe is literally freezing you together in this cold room to force you to act. Next time, please -”

It was barely 5 am, and you groaned as you shuffled into the lab, your hair in a messy bun and sleep still stinging your eyes. But the bacterial cultures didn’t care about your sleep schedule - or lack thereof.

Throwing on your lab coat and gloves with the grace of a zombie, you started checking the growth plates with bleary eyes.

You’d barely managed to finish when Jisung strolled in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, setting a cup in front of you.

“I love you, Ji,” you muttered, taking the first sip and feeling a spark of life return to your body. “I don't know why I wanted to be a scientist.”

Jisung plopped down next to you, snickering, and started scrolling through his phone while you leaned your head against his shoulder. And he rested his head against yours, before placing a quick peck on your temple.

You were starting to fall asleep, when the lab door creaked open.

You both glanced up to see Hyunjin walk in. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he stopped at the door for a second, his eyes fixed on you.

“Morning,” he greeted, and you gave him a small wave, still too sleepy to form words. Jisung returned the greeting, and then left quickly.

You noticed Hyunjin’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. That's new. He moved to his workstation, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop.

You sat up straighter, something about Hyunjin’s silence gnawing at you. He didn’t even glance your way, which was unusual.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, was battling a whirlwind of emotions. He knew you and Jisung were close friends - you’d mentioned it so many times. But seeing the way your head rested against his shoulder and Jisung had kissed your temple - it just looked way too intimate. Too cosy.

He hated feeling this way, especially when you weren’t his to begin with. Still, the disappointment twisted in his chest and he didn't know what to do about it. So he focused on his work.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to you.

---

You let it go on till about noon. But it was killing you - you weren't used to this kind of behavior from Hyunjin and it was starting to stress you out. So summoning your courage, you walked over to Hyunjin and said, “Hey,”

He glanced up, his expression neutral as he said, “Hey.”

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. “You're so...quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Hyunjin said, giving you a small smile.

“You sure?” you pressed, feeling a strange pang of hurt.

He nodded, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He was being so distant, and it left a strange, hollow ache in your chest. Finally, you gave him a small nod and walked back to your seat, feeling totally crushed by his uncharacteristic coolness.

Hyunjin’s silence stretched into the next day. And the day after that. In fact he hadn't spoken more than a couple of words to you in the past two days. And it hurt so much, considering the fact that you don't even know why he was doing this all of a sudden.

You tried to brush it off at first. Maybe he was just busy, or stressed. But the space he was putting between you felt deliberate, like he was doing this on purpose.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was crumbling inside. He adored you. And that too for long enough that the thought of losing you was nearly unbearable.

You and Jisung were so close. And you looked so comfortable. He couldn't take it. He wasn't going to let his heart shatter like that.

So, he’d made a decision: if he couldn’t have you, he’d rather step back than risk the heartbreak of watching you fall for someone else. Even if it meant burying his feelings.

---

The next morning, you were back in the cold room. You’d been trying to salvage your protein extraction for hours, but nothing was going right. Your hands were trembling as you loaded yet another sample, and your vision blurred with tears of frustration.

“This is so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice cracking. “Why can’t anything just go right for once?”

You sniffled, wiping your cheek with your sleeve, as you continued your monologue.

“I just want my Jinnie back. Why does he hate me now? What did I do wrong?” your voice wavered as you spoke through your tears.

What you didn't see was that the cold room door had opened quietly, and Hyunjin had stepped inside. He froze at the sound of your voice, his chest tightening at the sadness in your words.

Your Jinnie?

Your name slipped from his lips, soft and hesitant, “Y/N?”

You stiffened, your body freezing and your heart racing as you heard his voice.

“What?” you croaked, refusing to turn around, too mortified to meet his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Hyunjin asked, taking a step closer.

You shook your head, refusing to face him.

“Why do you care?” You asked, and it broke his heart to see you wipe your tears.

“Please don't say that, of course I care-”

“It’s nothing. Just this stupid experiment. And... everything else.”

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice firmer now. “Please. Talk to me.”

You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

“I can’t do this anymore, Hyunjin,” you whispered. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You won't even talk to me, and it’s killing me. I just... I just want my Hyunjinnie back. Just stop hurting me like this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt the tears spill over again, your shoulders trembling as you waited for him to say something. Anything.

And then you felt it.

Warmth. His strong arms wrapping around you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

You gasped softly, frozen for a moment before leaning into him, your tears falling freely now.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Why are you mad at me?” you asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hold on you tightening. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought... I thought you and Jisung -”

“Jisung?” you repeated, blinking in confusion. “You know he’s my best friend, Hyunjin. He's like a brother to me.”

“I thought I was protecting myself,” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. “I thought I’d lose you to Jisung, and I couldn’t handle it. But I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process.”

“I can't believe you never saw me thirsting over you, Hyunjin” you said, your voice incredulous. “What are you even saying?!”

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, burying his face into your neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” you sniffled, though your tone was softer now.

He pulled back just enough to turn you around, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long. And I was so scared- ” he stopped short as he saw the look on your face.

“You... you love me?”

“I adore you,” he said, giving you a shy smile.

You let out a breathless laugh, the weight on your chest lifting for the first time in days.

“I love you too, Hyunjin. So damn much.”

His smile widened, and before you could say another word, he asked, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and when his lips met yours, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He kissed you so softly (even though you just wanted to eat him up.)

You both stepped out of the cold room together, the door clicking shut behind you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen from the kiss, and as you glanced at Hyunjin, you saw he was in no better shape.

You didn't get to take another step forward as the door to your lab opened and Jisung's head popped in.

His eyes flicked between you and Hyunjin and you could hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what he was seeing. And then he smirked.

You glared at him, because you know that look on his face, and Hyunjin just stood there, his arms crossed and a smile that said “I got what I wanted".

“Congratulations,” Jisung said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m so happy for you both. But oh my god, you two idiots…”

The grin on his face was priceless. He was enjoying this way too much.

“I swear, if you don’t shut up -” You swatted him on the arm.

Jisung winced dramatically but couldn’t hide his laughter.

“What? You guys make an adorable couple... but honestly, you both are just so dumb.”

Well, you couldn't agree more.

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin

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its-avalon-08 · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! Could you please write something where reader and Lando have been together for a while and the hate never got to her until she saw a comment about her using Lando’s money and Lando never had a problem with it. But reader starts using her own money but she doesn’t have a lot of it and one day she misses a call from the bank and Lando answers it and finds out her funds are low and he put it together. Happy needing though where Lando reassures her that he loves her using his money.

what's mine is yours (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - gold digger tweets, money problems, tears, fluff

Lando and Y/N had always had an easygoing relationship. From the moment they met, things just clicked. They’d been inseparable for years, growing through the ups and downs of the racing world together. She was his anchor, and he was her biggest supporter. Despite the scrutiny from the public eye, their relationship was grounded in mutual respect and understanding. Lando always made sure she felt cherished, often indulging her with gifts, fancy dinners, and trips—but none of that ever really mattered to Y/N. She loved Lando, not his lifestyle.

Still, there was always an undercurrent of judgment from certain corners of social media, as there often is for the partners of famous athletes. Y/N had long trained herself to tune out the negative noise. But today was different.

Sitting on the couch while Lando was out at a sponsorship event, she scrolled through Twitter. It had been a typical day, filled with photos of the two of them that fans had posted, some sweet comments and, as usual, some not-so-sweet ones. She should’ve stopped scrolling when she saw a thread discussing her. But instead, her eyes caught on one tweet.

@SpeedyPaddock: "Does Y/N ever spend a single dollar of her own? I swear all I see is Lando footing the bill. She’s just another gold digger… probably why Lando doesn’t mind either, right? He’s got the money to throw around."

Her heart sank. Y/N stared at the screen, feeling her chest tighten. She had never thought of it that way—sure, Lando loved spoiling her, and she’d accepted his generosity because it made him happy. But was she really taking advantage of him?

She shook her head, trying to clear the heaviness settling in her chest. No, Lando would never think that. Yet, the words echoed in her mind, twisting her perception. What if other people thought the same thing? What if they saw her as nothing more than someone who used Lando’s wealth to get by?

I can't do this anymore, she decided. She wasn’t going to be seen that way. From now on, she'd stop using any of Lando’s money. She wouldn’t tell him—it wasn’t his fault, and she didn’t want to burden him with her insecurities.

Y/N sighed, putting her phone away, her mind already racing with ways to distance herself from his lavish spending. This wasn't about them, it was about her.

time skip

The shift was subtle at first. Y/N stopped suggesting they go out to fancy dinners or buy anything extravagant. She even started paying for smaller things—coffee, groceries, or an Uber here and there. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to their favorite restaurants or enjoy the life they’d built together, but she didn’t want to add fuel to the assumptions people were making online. Every time Lando offered to cover something, she’d smile and politely insist on taking care of it herself.

Lando, oblivious to what was going on in her head, didn’t think much of it at first. He’d tease her with a grin, “Trying to outdo me, are you?” And she’d laugh it off, hiding the unease in her heart.

But as the weeks passed, the strain began to show. Y/N wasn’t rich—not by Lando’s standards, not by any stretch. Her savings weren’t endless, and the more she tried to maintain this facade of independence, the more she found herself running low on funds. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up, but the thought of being seen as a "gold digger" kept pushing her forward.

One afternoon, as Lando was lounging on the couch, Y/N’s phone rang. She was out picking up some last-minute groceries, and without thinking, Lando picked it up when he saw the caller ID—her bank.

"Hello, this is Lando. I’m answering for Y/N."

The bank representative, not knowing any different, politely responded, "Hello, sir. We were just calling to inform Ms. Y/L/N that her account balance is quite low, and we’ve noticed a few declined transactions recently. We recommend a transfer or deposit soon to avoid further issues."

Lando’s face dropped, confusion swirling through his mind. "Uh, okay. I’ll let her know. Thank you." He hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, piecing things together.

When Y/N returned home, she found Lando sitting on the edge of the couch, her phone in his hand, a serious expression on his face.

"Hey, everything okay?" she asked, setting the groceries down.

He looked up, his blue eyes soft but concerned. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Y/N froze. She had no idea what he was talking about. "Tell you what?"

"The bank called. They said your account’s low… and that there have been some declined transactions. Y/N, why are you doing this?" His voice was gentle but filled with worry.

Her heart sank. "Lando, I—" She trailed off, not sure how to explain. The tweet flashed in her mind again, and she could feel the walls closing in.

Lando stood up and walked over to her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "Talk to me. Please."

She exhaled slowly, her voice trembling. "I saw a comment a few weeks ago… someone said I was just using your money. That I’m a gold digger and that you don’t care because you can afford it. It got to me, Lando. I didn’t want people to think that I’m only with you for your money. So, I started using my own… but I didn’t realize how fast it would run out."

Lando’s expression softened even more, his brow furrowing as he pulled her into a hug. "Oh, Y/N…"

She buried her face into his chest, feeling the weight of her decision catch up with her. "I didn’t want to tell you because it wasn’t your fault. It’s just stupid people online. But I didn’t want to be seen that way."

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. "Listen to me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re with me because you love me, and I love you. It’s never been about money, and it never will be."

"But—" she started, but he cut her off gently.

"No, but. I want to spoil you. I want to take you to nice places, buy you things, and make you happy. That’s what people do when they love each other. It doesn’t mean you’re using me. You’re not a gold digger, Y/N. You’ve never been." He kissed her forehead softly. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not to me."

Tears welled up in her eyes, not from sadness, but from relief. She’d been carrying this burden for so long, and now, hearing Lando say those words, it felt like the weight had been lifted. "I just didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you."

"I know you, Y/N," he whispered. "You could never do that. I love you, and I love sharing my life with you. That includes my money, okay? We’re a team. Whatever’s mine is yours."

Y/N nodded, tears spilling over as she smiled softly. "I love you too, Lando. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner."

He wiped her tears away with his thumb, smiling back. "Don’t be. Just promise me one thing."

"What?" she asked.

"Promise me you won’t listen to those idiots online. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we have."

Y/N let out a soft laugh. "I promise."

Lando grinned, pulling her into another tight hug. "Good. Now, let’s go out tonight. My treat. And before you say anything, it always will be."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, the tension finally easing between them. "Fine. But I’m picking the place."

"Deal."

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princessbrunette · 5 months ago

Text

… and now introducing, the 10K follower special… ᙏ̤̫ ✧༚

OBX - the nsfw alphabet guide ♡

dearest boobettes,

thank you for 10k followers, whewie how time flies! i am forever grateful for the majority support, kindness and above all patience you’ve exhibited especially during times where real life gets in the way and i needed to step away from writing. i hope you continue to chortle away with me in my asks & enjoy my silly little drabbles,

love from princess ^_^ ♡

A IS FOR… aftercare, ft. pope heyward ♡

it goes without saying, pope has done his research and has engaged in copious amounts of conversations on your boundaries. after sex, he overthinks — massively, always worried that he got caught up in the throes of passion and somehow became aggressive or forceful (…spoiler alert, he didn’t! not to a degree you didn’t thoroughly enjoy, anyway.) therefore, he needs to know what you need, pretty immediately too - almost too an annoying degree.

“hey, too far? tell me what you need baby.” he’s cradling you before you’ve even caught your breath.

“mmph—”

“lets use our words, yeah?” your eyes are shut, but you know that stressed crinkle is sitting right between his brows.

“just wanna lay.” you whine, and he knows that tone means to stop pressing you. if laying is what you want, it’s what you’ll get. he knows he won’t be able to help himself from jumping up to clean you up soon enough, but for now he’s happy to indulge in your sticky embrace, stroking your head and telling you just how good you were.

B IS FOR… body parts, ft. bunny!reader x rafe ♡

rafes favourite body part of bunny’s is undoubtably her lips. there’s just something about them, the shape of them, the colour of them — that makes her always get her way with him. whether she’s pouting them, batting her long lashes when she’s in trouble or painting them with a sparkly gloss, one he probably bought her that week that she’ll leave printed around his cock later on — he can never keep his eyes of them. her tits are pretty fantastic too though, he must say.

bunny’s favourite body part of rafe’s? but there’s just too many to pick one! she is particularly fond of his shoulders and chest and it shows, always stroking down his torso when she’s speaking to him — the muscle beneath his polo perfectly pudged from exercise without being too firm, also making the perfect board for her to scratch her manicured nails down while getting put through the mattress.

C IS FOR… cum, ft.kitty!reader x jj ♡

there is something spiritual about the way kitty interacts with jj’s cum— like she swears she can tell what he’s eaten, how many sips of water he’s had that day and what the weather was like just from the taste of it. she’d lift her head from his crotch, mascara dwelling beneath her eyes as she smacks her lips thoughtfully, waiting for the blonde to catch his breath.

his ringed hand is still planted atop her head, supporting her limp neck as he looks down at her through spent and lidded eyes. “how y’feeling bae?” he queries, noting the pensive look on her face.

“all caffeine.” she hums, brows furrowing. jj blinks.

“y—…uh, what?”

“you didn’t drink any water today? not even a little? what did i tell you? you can’t survive off redbull!” she squints all pissed off, even her nose balling up as jj watches her rise up from her position.

“aint no way.”

D IS FOR… dirty secret, ft. john b x puppy!reader ♡

well, it was his dirty secret. you guess you could say d is also for dad, because that’s what he likes being called the most in the bedroom. it fills some… sick hole in his heart, fuels this odd complex he has around pup. he likes that she relies so much on him, he’s always taken the leadership role in any group so when it’s just the two of them it only feels right. it started off as daddy of course, but he’ll always remember that one sweaty night, roughly 4AM and they’d been going at it for hours, her legs over his shoulders, thick cock hitting that abused spongy spot until the word transformed before his very ears.

“mm—mm—mm—daddy—daddy—dad… dad!” it was music to his ears. apparently enough to have him blow his load at the drop of a hat.

E IS FOR… experience, ft. mouse!reader x jj x pope ♡

until she met jj and pope, she’d never even kissed anyone. well — she tells people she had, one guy — but the one guy in question was her one and only boyfriend in fourth grade (who then dumped her the next day because he wanted to ‘focus on powerangers’. she hates powerangers to this day.) it’s not to feed into her whole innocent aesthetic, you know with the baby pinks and the ballet and the glittery blusher dusted on the apples of her cheeks, no. she was just painfully shy— too touch starved to even imagine herself being intimate.

it wasn’t until she was sat in the middle of jj and pope on her bed, asking them if they could kiss eachother first to ease her nerves before she could kiss them — that she realised how badly she’d been missing out.

F IS FOR… favourite position, ft. lord!rafe ♡

when sabrina carpenter says ‘have you ever tried this one?’ referring to an unnamed sex position on her hit song, juno — the chances are, with lord!rafe, you had. the man was creative, especially when he was high, wanting to see just how far you’d contort and push yourself to submit to him. to bend to his will. but at the end of the day, he was just a man — and he craved that deep intimacy that his favourite pledge could give him, and that was a mating press.

“you like this, hm? feeling all— all close like this huh?” he pants in your face, your knees squished to you in a way that made it hard to breathe, especially with the way he was brutalising your hole.

“mm, mhm. thank you lord.” your voice is spitty and pleading and he chuckles through his exhales.

“yeah. like this one the most. get to see the life leave your fuckin eyes when i pull out. you just want that seed so fuckin bad don’t you baby?” he basically growling so you know he’s close. your eyes struggle not to roll back at the feeling.

“yes. yes lord!” your voice breaks.

“well that’s too bad baby. that’s too fuckin’ bad.”

G IS FOR… goofy, ft. jj x deer!reader ♡

much like mouse!reader, deer is a tough one to crack due to her shyness. however, through hard work and determination — jj discovered that the best way to get her to ease up and let go, was to quite literally giggle her out her panties.

“these are pretty.” he compliments her, warm breath on her neck as they both look between their bodies at her frilly white panties, a red bow at the centre which he plucks at gently. when he feels her tense up, he raises an eyebrow with a playful expression — letting her know it’s still just him, still her silly jj. “can i borrow ‘em?”

she busts into a fit of giggles, and whilst distracted — jj grins, sliding the fabric down her thighs as she writhes elatedly. “what? don’t think they’d suit me?” he keeps her happy and the vibes up as he parts her thighs, her giggles turning into slow breaths. his grin melts into a smirk, prompting an answer. “hm?”

“w—well— i was j—just—”

“mmmhm. yeah, i know. it’s okay baby.” he cooes, lulling her into being just a little more limp for him.

H IS FOR… hair, ft.john b ♡

john b is super hairy down there, never seeming to have the time to groom himself. the hair on his head is thick and wavy, and that’s not exception to his downstairs either, enough to bury your face in whilst deep throating his girthy length, the hair even crawling up his happy trail to his belly button. the sight when he stretches, arms lifted over his head causing his shirt to rise up and expose it has trained your mouth to water.

equally, if anyone is gonna advocate for you having a bush — it’s him. he had access to a load of his dads porno magazines from the 70s that he thought he’d hidden, so since he was younger he’d always had an affection for a pretty lil tuft peeking out some pretty panties. hey, it’s your body your choice as he’d be adamant on telling you — but if you wanted to give up shaving for a little while, he’d have zero objections.

many nights would be spent with his hand just affectionately patting your mound through your panties in bed before casually slipping his hand inside, twirling his fingers around some of the wiry hair.

“john b.” you’d scold, a little hot in the face.

“what, babe? getting a pretty neat bouquet going on down here. love it.”

I IS FOR…intimacy, ft. starwars!au!pope ♡

each time captain pope fucks you, he never knows if it’s going to potentially be his last time before he gets shipped off to some far away planet where all communication with you is severed. hell, sometimes he’s not sure if he’s ever going to make it back from his mission at all.

because of this, when he sneaks away from the bunks to fly to your apartment and spend a night with you — he fucks you like it’s the last time. skin to skin, direct, watery eye contact, arms wrapped around you like he’s never going to let you go as he rolls his hips, sweat dripping down his back.

“stars, i love you. i love you i love you. fuck, i fucking love you.” he groans, eyes fighting to stay open because he doesn’t wanna miss a moment of you, needing to ingrain your image into his brain for those lonely nights away.

“i love you pope. my pope.” you’d cry out, like it was a promise — and it was. a promise to be together properly one day with nothing and no one standing in between.

J IS FOR jack off, ft. stepbro!rafe ♡

before your parents married and you moved into tanny hill, rafe thought he jacked off a normal amount for someone his age. it was like you hit this switch, left him fumbling for control of his own body. it was no wonder he was so angry all the time, you had his hormones going haywire like some kind of teenager.

he was certain he’d had to quickly beat one out in nearly every room of the house. he’d see you in the kitchen, reaching up to a shelf that was a little too high for you — your shirt rising up, tits pressed to the fabric, underwear peeking from the waistband of your shorts and he’d be zipping out the room to relieve himself in the bathroom. he sees you out by the pool, slathering greasy spf over your skin, oiling yourself up in your bikini making you look like some kind of pornstar, and he’s taking a risk — standing in the empty window downstairs, hoping no one enters the room as he tugs one out.

you can’t even do your laundry in peace, rafe worried about the wrong load when he walks in and is confronted directly by the sight of you bent over the washer, digging around for that one pesky sock. he could just take you. right here, right now— but instead he ends up blowing his cum into his own sock that never made it into the wash pile back in his room.

he’ll pass your bedroom, and you’ll be out — so he’ll take the liberty to blow a load into a pair of your used panties in the hamper. you didn’t do anything to trigger him this time, but he felt like you owed him that at least, for all the times you’d unknowingly teased him.

K IS FOR… kink, ft. receptionist!reader x fireman!john b x fireman!jj ♡

unsurprising to all, the sweet receptionist bunking in a tiny apartment with two beefy firemen definitely has a fantasy or two. she knows the realities of how scary these fires can be, so she always feels a little guilty in indulging in being a damsel in distress in her daydreams, her two boys coming to save her from a smoky building before taking her home, spreading her out on the bed and making her feel all better, the two of them still greasy, soot staining their clothes and the scent of smoke radiating from them.

sometimes they get home from their shift when she’s mid fantasy with her hand down her panties and suddenly has to dive out of bed to greet them, all disheveled with her pupils dilated to the moon and back.

“you uh… alright there sweetie?” jj plays into it, knowing something was a miss, smirking. she swallows thickly, nodding unconvincingly.

“mhm! you guys just caught me by surprise! i was uh, napping.” her voice still trembles.

“hold on, you do look a little flushed.” john b touches the back of her neck and her knees buckle. but luckily his fireman instincts kick in and he catches her with ease. god, this was just like her fantasies. “lets lay you down, okay?”

L IS FOR… location, ft. pizzadeliveryboy!pope ♡

when fitting pope into your seriously tight schedule — sometimes it was just the most convenient to fuck in a rather odd location. your car and the kitchen of your house were good enough to get the job done — but popes favourite location to have fucked you in had to be the bathroom of the pizza place he worked at.

now, usually — he was a stickler for rules. the violation of his work place would normally make him shudder, but it was just the way you’d marched in there, so publicly, leant over the counter and whispered “i need it now.”

safe to say you were not talking about extra pepperonis.

he took his break early, and hey — it was a slow day, so he wasn’t too worried about ushering you cautiously but quickly into a bathroom cubicle and fighting your shorts down your legs.

“seriously? while i’m working?” he hisses in a whisper and all you can do is giggle, leaning against your cubicle wall and sticking out your ass temptingly. you match his whisper at full volume, in the moment not caring who hears. it was the closest he could get to a public declaration of love and desire.

“dont complain. know you’ve been thinkin’ about it.”

he definitely had been, so he shuts up and gets to work.

M IS FOR… motivation, ft. shittysoundcloudrapper!jj ♡

what gets jj going, is your eagerness to help him, doing whatever it takes to push and promote his hopeless career in soundcloud rapping. needs a female voice to moan for the backing track again? you’re eagerly setting up the mic and spreading your legs for him. needs a video girl? you’re holding up mini skirts asking which one he thinks you should wear (he says whichever one is shorter.) stuck in a slump with writing lyrics? there’s not much you can do there but spell check them in his notepad with glittery pink pen and make suggestions. each assist made, you do it with the same wide eyed, pleading for approval expression that makes his dick throb.

he didn’t like to admit it, but he was enjoying playing with you too much to make you his certified girlfriend just yet. which makes him kind of a selfish asshole, yes. he just loved watching you melt when he’d come up behind his pretty best friend, grabbing your hips and rocking side to side with you, making you smile because you know he’s about to suck up to you and ask you for something.

“you wanna be my helpful girl?” he hums, and you shudder — instantly and pathetically becoming that wide eyed yes-woman he knows and loves.

“mhm…”

“wow that was eeeeasy mama. you’ll do anything for me, huh?”

“anything.”

N IS FOR… no, ft. daddy!john b x puppy!reader ♡

one thing john b really doesn’t like doing, is pushing pup past her limits — especially as sometimes she doesn’t quite know where they are. when having sex, during particularly intense sessions she gets dazed, unable to think and sometimes even talk for herself because she is just so overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.

he’d have her face down ass up in the bed, strong arm wrapped around her hips to reach her cunt, rolling her pearl beneath rough fingers as his cock stretches her, collecting cream at the base from her abundance of releases. hes going at a relaxed pace, but pup is limp, unable to let anything out by strained noises.

“hows that sweetheart? we still feeling good?” john b croons, careful not to get lost in his own pleasure to focus on his own. “pup?” he calls when there’s no answer.

that’s a big enough of a red flag for john b to pull out, leaning over her to gently lift her head. her eyes are screwed shut with tears on her cheeks and she’s breathing quickly through her nose. it appears she’s worked herself up into a frenzy. the brunette knows not to panic, as these things happen, simply scooping her naked body into his arms and stroking her head. “how ‘bout a break. okay? did so good for me puppy. juuust need a break. little tiny break.” he punctuates the sentence with a kiss to her crown, doing everything in his power to reassure and soothe her.

O IS FOR…oral, ft. rafe x lamb!reader ♡

with someone as strict as lamb!reader, oral is the loophole rafe needed to get into her panties. in the early days, he weasels head from her — telling her it’s the only way she can properly apologise to him after mouthing off against him after he’d done so much for her. there’s the light threat that he’ll tell on her too if she doesn’t, unspoken and lingering behind their elongated gazes — and that’s enough for her to frantically scamper to her knees, demanding the satin scrunchie from her dresser.

rafe isn’t big on giving oral — but with lamb, he’d see it as a stepping stone into sex. because if he’s eaten her pussy, what’s the point in stopping there? they may aswell go all the way. it’s obscene the way he’d have her on her back on her bed, his knees in both of his hands, spread as far as they’d go revealing her wet, pulsing cunt causing the fabric of her thin white panties to be completely sheered.

“c—can’t, after the first time… i had to beg for forgiveness. if i do this rafe there’s, there’s no going back.” she’s trembling, the poor thing — but not from fear, from need, her clit twitching beneath his gaze just begging to be touched. it was true, religious girls ovulated too.

“yeah? you’d probably start crying if i stopped n’walked away now alright? you want this. no, you — you need this, i can see it with my own two eyes. okay? give in. jesus isn’t watching.” he’s irritable, but if rafe was anything— he wasn’t a total creep. he needed that green light. he needed a yes.

there’s a silence, filled with lambs shuddering and sniffles and he’s honestly about to give up himself before her voice sounds, meek and guilty.

“just… just a little bit. just kiss it a little bit. maybe… maybe touch.”

he huffs out a laugh. sure, just a little bit.

P IS FOR… pace, ft.apocalypse!pope ♡

in a world where everything was a mad dash for safety, sex was the one thing pope liked to take his time with. he saw it as a luxury, a blessing reminding him of his gratitude toward having shelter, safety, warmth, companionship. he was never a risk taker, only ever having one actual ‘quickie’ in an abandoned warehouse when you convince him to take you beyond the gates of kitty hawk. he was stressed the whole time, an eye constantly peeled and unable to fully enjoy you as he bounced you hastily on his cock.

“s’fine popey, no one’s here! nothin’s gonna — mmph— nothin’s gonna happen!”

“you don’t know that. fuck. you better cum. shit.”

back home at the base, he lights candles, lays you down on the blankets in his watch-tower, and gets to work. he rolls his hips languidly, relishing in every noise you make, falling love even deeper when you beg him to go harder, faster. but he never does. sex was one of the few enjoyable things there was left, and he wanted to make each time last. he never knew when it might be the last time, anyway.

Q IS FOR… quickie, ft. farmhand!jj ♡

farmhand!jj on the other hand, he gets off on the thrill of being caught. he doesn’t really want to— but there’s something so scandalous to him about the fact your father is a short walk up the hill, whilst you’re in the barn with him, grinding on his face, calling him daddy.

there’s a rarely a time either of you are able to get fully nude, relying on moving things out the way to put the ‘quick’ in ‘quickie’. he enjoys that element too, taking pleasure in pulling up that little gingham dress and moving your innocent looking panties aside to have his way with the farmers daughter.

he likes to tease you, it’s just apart of his cheeky personality — plucking some hay off your cheek as he fucks into you from the back, hay in your hair and dirt on your cheek on the floor blanket he laid down.

“what would ya’ daddy say, huh? if he saw you like this on his property? ain’t lookin’ too good for you, sweetie.” he teases, tightening his grip on your hips. you whine, which means ‘don’t say that’ in sex talk, barely glancing over your shoulder with hazy puppy dog eyes.

“you’re m’daddy.” you pout in the heat of the moment, pathetically and guiltily making him bark out a mischievous chuckle, biting his tongue.

“yeah? i’m your daddy. okay.” jj repeats with a grin, plucking his hat off his head and dropping it on yours.

R IS FOR… risk, ft. gooner!rafe ♡

look, he’s a rich, white guy in college. he doesn’t care about risks. before you, there wasn’t much risk in his porn obsessed habits, not outside of his search history being revealed anyway. but when he met you, someone who lets him do whatever he wants — it becomes more of a factor.

half way through fucking, he rolls off you, sliding the slippery condom off his cock and heading back to insert himself.

“rafey what are you doin’?” you mewl, shock and concern etched across your features. to be honest, the suggestion of fear in your tone made him throb.

“look, it’ll be fine, alright? i’ll— i’ll pull out, just need to feel that pussy. you gonna let me feel that pussy or no? hm?” he drawls, leaning over you on strong arms, the angle making it hard to disagree with him, infact — you felt your hand floating towards his shaft to guide him back inside, under his spell.

S IS FOR… stamina, ft. puppy!reader x jj ♡

what happens when you pair two of the most adhd, frantic beings in the obx in a bed together? it just keeps going, all night long. catch them when they’re amped up enough, and they’ll go like bunnies.

just when you think it’s over, the two of them catching their breath together in bed— they’ll turn to look at eachother with hazy smiles, before puppy rolls back on top of him.

“want more, jayj.” she’ll always beg, grinding her slick up and down his shaft as it twitches, blood rushing back to it.

“oh yeah? already? don’t need a snack? just… straight back in?” he teases, pretending to think about it until she pouts petulantly.

“dont need a snack want it right now!” she whines, frantically trying to stuff him back inside. he sits up, waving her hands away and cradling her.

“alright, alright no scooby snacks, got it. don’t worry, i’ll give y’what you want, mama.” he soothes, before flipping her on her back.

T IS FOR… toys, ft. toxicex!johnb ♡

let’s be real, whenever you and john b hook up — he wants to show you exactly what you’re missing, so when he feels the need to up his game, he’s definitely not above using toys to bend you to his will, guaranteeing a crazy orgasm you both know no one else can give you.

when you come grovelling at his door, he poses the vibrator he still keeps around as a punishment of some kind for leaving him. he’ll sit behind you on the bed with your legs spread open, holding the pink vibe to your clit as you fall apart.

“you know sweetheart i shouldn’t keep doing this… right?”

“mm—no—mmph john b, please!” you cry, willing to do anything for him to not turn the toy off just before you cum again.

“john b?” he repeats, voice dry and flat. “has it been that long?”

“daddy.” you mewl ashamed and feel him smile, satisfied with an exaggerated nod.

“ah. there it is. ‘guess i can make you feel good again. what’s one more time right?” his tone is sarcastic still as he rubs the vibe in circles, making your legs jerk obscenely, voice squealing involuntarily. “mm. but it’s not gonna be the last time, is it baby?”

U IS FOR… unfair, ft.spoiledexgf!reader x rafe ♡

we all know, when it comes to teasing — spoiledexgf!reader is straight up evil. she breaks less easily, never giving rafe what he wants unless it’s on her terms, using him for that delectable dick and money when she needs it. she knows he still belongs to her completely, and her attitude shows that.

she likes to call him at random times from another phone (because one of them always has the other one blocked on her phone.) just to check if she can still get what she wants. he’ll pick up the phone with “yeah, who’s this?”

“you know who.” she grins, kicking her feet and she hears him sigh, leaning back in his seat, probably pinching his nose bridge.

“what, okay — i’m working, what do you want?”

“i can’t just call to check up on my favourite businessman?” she coos, biting her glossed lip.

“no. you always want something. so what is it— or— or should i say how much? huh? how much you need?” he’s sarcastic, but she can literally him hear scuffling about for his wallet.

“just a humble 300. there are these pair of shoes and… well, i won’t bore you with the details. i’ll be sure to repay you.”

“yeah, you fuckin’ better, alright? not just a piggy bank. not doin’ that shit anymore okay i need something in return.” he demands, frustrated and dick already jumping at the thought of potentially getting to touch her again.

she taps her chin though he can’t see her, fluttering long lashes at the ceiling. “hmm. i’ll see what mood i’m in later. bye rafey.” just like that, she hangs up — waiting for the money to be transferred.

V IS FOR…volume, ft. pope ♡

if there was a contest for prettiest male moan— the trophy would go to pope. he’s not super loud, because you’re either doing it at his place or yours, and with your family situations it was rare you had the places to yourself.

however, you could listen to it forever — the sound of his soft groan in your ear as he’d roll his hips against yours, slipping in whispers of “oh my god.” and “fuck…” under his breath, which was absolutely music to your ears.

sometimes, when he’s super pent up — right before he cums he’ll whimper, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on getting to his peak of pleasure. that was pope at his most vulnerable, and you cherish every moment.

“fuckfuckfuck… you’re so beautiful…shit!”

W IS FOR… wildcard, ft. barry x bunny!reader ♡

you read that correctly — there is a universe out there where bunny and rafe break up, and barry is quick to get his hands on that. he lets her rant at his place, wiping her tears with his knuckle with a joint hanging from his mouth, he takes a huff before holding the roll to her glittery lips.

“he got you fucked up babygirl… know i wouldn’t do that shit right? i’on know, maybe you need a real man to get you right… s’all i’m sayin’.” he lets the smirk slide onto his face. her instinct is to deny him, but why? she’s single now right?

before she knows it she’s pierced on his cock with him guiding her hips, his mouth tasting of something unfamiliar mixed with weed.

“shit, keep that thing real tight don’t you mama? country club di’nt even know what to do with all that.”

X IS FOR… x-ray ♡

when i think of who is packing the most — two characters come to mind. pogue!rafe, who stands at 6ft5– he definitely has the dick to match his huge beefy stature, and dbf!johnb— just the idea of him having to train his friends daughter to take his thick cock is simply mouthwatering.

rafes stands at 9 and a half inches, and john b at 7.5, but way thicker.

Y IS FOR… yearning, ft. john b x reader x sarah ♡

this couple is potentially the biggest gooner duo of the princessverse. as previously discussed, the pair are constantly trying to integrate sex into your life by tricking your innocent mind into thinking it was your idea, so of course they are constantly yearning for you.

when you posted some scandalous bikini pics on instagram — you thought most people would give it a like, maybe a comment and then keep scrolling. what you don’t know, is that two of your closest friends are in bed together, touching themselves and eachother with your pictures pulled up — talking about all the yucky things they’re gonna do to you when they get their hands on you.

“can you picture it john b? her laying right here between us, letting me suck those perfect tits.” sarah sighs softly and john b’s jaw falls open with pleasure as she takes over from his hand gripping his cock, stroking up and down.

“holy shit. i’m gonna cum all over the screen.” he grits his teeth and she sucks on her plump bottom lip, clenching her tanned thighs together knowing it’ll be her turn soon.

“yeah… cum all over her.”

Z IS FOR… Zzz, ft. linecook!jj ♡

jj works long days, but he always ensures to reserve enough energy to lay it on you when he’s home from work. however, when he’s done — he’s done, so if you were planning on having any conversations with him, you have to make sure it’s before he gets his hands on you.

he rolls off you once he’s fucked you through two orgasms, finally getting his own, dropping face down with his pants pulled down.

you catch your breath before rolling over to kiss his bicep. “jayj, left some dinner for you in the microwave if you didn’t get to eat at work…” you blink, hazy eyed and still a bit disorientated. “jayjie?”

you’re met with a snore, low and deep — muffled by the pillow. you giggle, stroking his back affectionately and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. he’ll eat it for breakfast, you suppose.

#10k follower special ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

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marauder-misprint · 6 months ago

Text

Animal person

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.6k words

cw: smoking, drinking, fluff

With a drink in one hand and Marlene’s cat in your lap being pet by the other, sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room was proving to be more fun than you had imagined. You were only there since Marlene wanted Dorcas there and Dorcas didn’t want to go alone. So, you got dragged from the dungeons to Gryffindor Tower. Conversations surrounded you as the Gryffindors animatedly told stories and jokes fueled by spiked punch. Marlene’s cat somehow managed to purr loud enough for you to hear her over everything around you.

“I swear, she loves you more than me!” Marlene pouts as she is snuggled into Dorcas’ side on the couch.

You laugh. “I’m an animal person, what can I say? They love me.”

As if on cue, the cat looks up at you and mews.

“How come you don’t have a pet then?” Dorcas asks, tipping her cup toward you before bringing it back to her lips.

“Mum’s not as animal-friendly as I am,” you say with a shrug. “So I’m waiting until after Hogwarts when I move out.”

“Going to get your own cat?” Lily asks from the chair next to you.

“No. Dog.”

“Dog?” Marlene gasps.

“I’m a big dog person.”

“Are you now?” James asks, suddenly joining the conversation despite having been in the middle of one with Remus and Peter.

“Yes?” you reply, unsure why that caught his attention.

“You should get to know Sirius then,” Remus says, gesturing to the window off to the side where Sirius is. He’s leaning against the wall, peering out the slightly cracked open window. He blows a puff of smoke out into the night.

“He likes dogs?” you ask.

“You could say that,” James says with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

You look at the girls, trying to get a read off of them. They offer no insight to why the boys want to send you in Sirius’ direction.

“Didn’t get the vibe that his family was all that into animals, based on Regulus.”

“Yeah, well, Sirius, he's different than his brother, yeah,” James rattles off. “Bit of a dog himself, if you know what I mean.”

Remus barks a laugh, leaning on Peter who is also laughing. The girls exchange glances of annoyance. You cast a wary look toward Sirius and take a sip of your drink. The cat nudges your now-limp hand, asking for your petting to resume.

“Anyways,” you say, trying to turn the conversation back from the boy smoking at the window, “any of you lot done Slughorn’s essay?”

“I have,” Lily and Remus say at the same time, causing them to smile at each other and laugh.

“Of course our prefects have the homework done,” Marlene says.

“Not going to lie, I’m more than okay I didn’t score well enough to take N.E.W.T. level Potions,” Dorcas says. “Never really liked Slug anyways.”

“He’s our head of house!” you laugh before taking a sip of your drink and then deciding to down it.

“Does not mean I have to like him,” she defends. “I bet they all don’t like McGonagall.”

“That woman is a saint!” James declares.

“A saint who gives you detention once a week?” Lily snorts.

“Sometimes more,” Peter corrects her. “Depends how busy we are.”

“And he’s usually busier than the rest of us,” Remus adds.

You gently shift the cat over to Marlene; it lets out a chirp of protest. You shake your empty cup in a silent explanation to Marlene’s confused look that she gave you. You head over to the punch bowl and refill your cup. Instead of returning to the couch, you decide to humor the Gryffindors and approach Sirius.

“I’ve heard smoking is bad for you,” you say, leaning against the wall opposite of him.

He takes a drag and blows the smoke in your face, causing you to slightly grimace. However, once the smoke clears from in front of your face and you can see his smirk, you take the cigarette from his hand and take your own drag, blowing smoke back into his face.

“Oi! Out the window!” some yells from nearby.

You hand Sirius the cigarette back.

“Keep it,” he says. “I got a whole pack.”

You’re still holding out the cig to him.

“I don’t smoke.”

He rolls his eyes.

“So you’re just going to stand here then?”

You shake your head and take a sip from your cup. Once you lower it from your lips, he takes the cup from you, taking his own sip. When he gives it back, he takes the cigarette back.

“Eye for an eye, huh,” you say, a smile playing on your lips.

“Drinking’s bad for your liver,” he says, looking you up and down. “You’re not a Gryffindor,” he adds after a moment.

“Good observation.”

He looks around the room as if taking account of who is all there. It’s mostly Gryffindors, Dorcas and maybe two Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He looks back at you.

“Who’re you here with? Not exactly open invite.”

You take a sip of your drink.

“With you right now, aren’t I?” There’s a hint of flirtation in your voice.

His eyes narrow.

“Who let you in?” he rephrases his question.

“Marlene.”

He looks back at the couch where Marlene was watching them intently. She was still leaning into Dorcas’ side and petting her cat. He hums, coming to a conclusion.

“Meadowes…” He chuckles dryly. “How’s my brother dearest?”

“Apparently less into animals than you are.”

He cocks his head.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, taking the cigarette for another drag and this time, you blow the smoke out the cracked window. As you do so, the cold night air really hits your face and you relish how refreshing it feels compared to the hot common room.

“I said I’m a dog person and Lupin declares I should get to know you.”

He barks out a laugh and shoots a look towards the boys who are all smiling wickedly as they have also been watching the two of you converse. You look between the boys and Sirius before taking another drag on the cigarette.

“Some joke I’m missing?” you ask, forcibly placing the dying cigarette back in his hand. “Potter said you were a bit of a dog yourself,” you add, imitating James. “But I’d have to be dense to not know what that means.”

He looks back at you, smiling a bit wider now.

“And what does that mean?” he asks, ignoring your original question.

“It’s how you treat women,” you say with an eye roll.

You take a large sip of your drink before crossing your arms. You watch as his grey eyes take you in again. Trying not to feel unsure of yourself, you look him over. He’s still in his uniform, although it’s more disheveled than it usually is, shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up and tie barely hanging on. His hair was partially tied back to be kept out of his face.

“I get good responses from the ladies,” he says nonchalantly.

“But do you deserve it?”

“They leave satisfied and come back for more,” he says with a wink.

He snuffs out the cigarette and pulls out the pack to retrieve another one. You reach out to lower the box and put it back in his pocket.

“It reeks.”

“But you had some!”

“Hmm, no. I don’t smoke.”

He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a packet of gum. He offers you one and you accept it, popping it immediately into your mouth.

“‘Preciate it. Dory’s already going to kill me for abandoning her tonight; I don’t need double time because of your bad habit.”

“Darling, you already smell of it.”

“Because you blew it at me, instead of out the window.”

“You just have all the answers, don’t you?”

“Most of ‘em.”

“Yeah?” His voice was teasing. “What’s something you don’t know?”

“Why your friends thought I should get to know you.”

“Because I’m an absolute delight.”

You laugh. “Right, and Reg is a fucking ray of sunshine.”

“He’s an acquired taste,” Sirius muses.

“Like you’re not?”

“I repeat, I am a delight.”

His gaze seems to be challenging you to disagree.

“You’re an acquired taste too. And,” you sigh, “it appears your brother is more to my pallet.”

You pat his shoulder and give him a gentle smile before turning to head back to the couch. You can feel his eyes follow you. You pause in front of Dorcas and Marlene.

“Meadowes, do you need me to stay? I’m thinking of heading back.”

Lily looks at you from her chair. “Did he say something?”

“Huh? Black? No,” you say, shaking your head. “Just done with tonight.”

“Fine, go,” Dorcas says. You knew she was far too content to leave Marlene just yet, if at all that night.

Back in your own common room, you spot Regulus sitting on the couch by the fireplace. He’s reading. You plop down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. You hear him audibly sniff the air.

“Why do you smell like my brother?”

“I was Meadowes’ escort to Gryffindor Tower tonight,” you say nonchalantly. “Surprise, surprise, he was there.”

“Okay, but you smell strongly of him.”

“Smoke and mint gum is your brother’s signature scent?”

“That and those leather jackets…” he mumbles.

You absentmindedly blow a bubble. He gives you a sideways glance.

“At least tell me it was all consensual.”

The bubble pops.

“Merlin, Reg! I didn’t shag Sirius!”

He shakes his head, not believing you.

“He offered me gum when I didn’t let him light a second cig,” you defend, sitting up straighter.

Regulus hums as he turns the page of his book.

–––

“Well, Pads, what did you think of her?” James asks after all four boys had abandoned the common room later in the evening.

“I think you need to stop sending girls my way because they like dogs.”

James and Remus exchange a glance.

“That wasn’t an answer,” Remus says.

Sirius rolls his eyes.

“Alright, she has my attention.”

Peter, Remus and James cheer at their success.

#sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders fic #sirius black fluff #marauder-misprint

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valkyriexo · 7 months ago

Text

HEART OF HATE | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; bf chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst, Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI,Jealousy, dirty talk, swearing, P in V, unprotected sex , fingering,arguments, mentions of hate. manipulative chan. veryyyyy toxic chan. use of 'slut', 'good girl' , hair pulling, gagging, Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact This chan is not a very good person read at your own risk!

ᑉ³Authors Note; Part or kinktober collab with @dandelions-143 Kinktober masterlist

The air crackles with tension as you and Chan face off, hearts racing and voices tight with anger. You can’t believe this is where your relationship has led, but here you are, standing in the middle of the bedroom, emotions on a razor’s edge.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were hanging out with her?" you snap, your voice shaking with rage. The words taste bitter on your tongue, every syllable laced with the resentment that’s been building for weeks. "I had to hear it from someone else—again. "

Chan’s face tightens, but you don't let up, the fury burning through you too strong to stop. "I trusted you. I trusted you, and you’re sneaking around with her of all people? I can’t even trust what you’re doing when I’m not around! How many times are you going to sneak around with her behind my back?"

“You’re blowing this out of proportion—”

"No, I’m not," you cut him off, stepping closer, your voice growing louder. "I’m not stupid, Chan. This isn’t the first time! You’ve been sneaking around with her, and you expect me to believe it’s just innocent?”

His eyes narrow, jaw tightening defensively. “Because she's just a friend. Why can’t you get that through your head?"

“A friend?” you scoff bitterly, your laugh sharp and cold. “If she’s just a friend, why hide it? Why let me find out from someone else, like I’m the outsider in my own relationship?” Your voice wavers, caught between the anger and the hurt threatening to choke you. "Do you even hear yourself? How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

"I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this!” He replies bitterly.

Your heart pounds as disbelief courses through you, the fury bubbling up again. "You’re hanging out with her behind my back, keeping it a secret, and you think I’m overreacting?"

The hurt laces through your words, but the anger is stronger. "If it’s so innocent, why lie? Why not just tell me? Do you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t care that you’re sneaking off with her when you know I don’t trust her?"

Chan’s expression hardens. “She’s just my friend. You’re reading into this way too much.”

"Then why are you keeping it from me?" you fire back, eyes narrowing. "Friends don’t have to sneak around, Chan. You’re hiding it because you know it’s wrong. You knew how I’d feel, and you did it anyway."

Your voice cracks, the betrayal cutting deep. "What am I supposed to think? That you just happened to forget to mention her every time you sneak off to see her?"

The room is thick with silence as you stare him down, the weight of everything he hasn’t said, everything he’s been hiding, hanging heavy between you. Chan’s eyes flicker with guilt, but his jaw tightens, and his hands ball into fists at his sides. “It’s not like that—” he starts, but you cut him off, your voice raw and trembling.

“Not like what?!” you snap, your heart pounding so hard it’s all you can hear. “You always have some excuse, don’t you? ‘It’s not like that.’ ‘You’re overreacting.’ But I’m done with your lies!”

“I’m tired of being the last one to know,” you continue, voice rising. “Do you even care about how this feels? Do you even care about us?”

He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, but it only fuels your fury.

He scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, look at you, making yourself the victim. It’s pathetic.”

The word stings, sharp and biting, like a slap across the face. Your chest tightens as you glare at him, trying to swallow the hurt, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

"Pathetic? Are you kidding me?" You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep some semblance of composure, but your voice shakes with the effort. "This isn’t about playing the victim, Chan. You keep dismissing my feelings like they’re nothing, like I don’t even matter."

“I can’t just stop hanging out with people because you have issues with them!” Chan snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with frustration. “What, do you want me to check in with you every single time I see someone? I’m not your prisoner!”

Your anger flares, the heat of his words igniting something deeper in you. You can’t believe he’s twisting it like this.

“This isn’t about control or keeping tabs on you! It’s about being respectful of our relationship, of me!”

“You’re so self-absorbed! I can’t believe you’re trying to manipulate me into choosing between you and my friends!” Chan shouts, his voice rising to a near scream, the sharp edge of his anger cutting through the air.

I’m not trying to control you, Chan! I’m trying to communicate! I’m trying to get you to understand how this makes me feel, and you need to stop acting like I’m the problem here!”

His face twists, and when he speaks again, his words are venomous, each syllable laced with contempt. “Maybe if you weren’t so insecure, this wouldn’t even be an issue! It's exhausting, you know that? Always whining about how I should act, how I should feel, what I should do!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a raw, painful ache spreading through you as his words sink in. "Whining?" you echo, disbelief coloring your tone. "Is that what this is to you? I’m whining because I want to feel respected in our relationship?"

“All i'm saying is that if you can’t handle me having friends, then maybe you’re the one who needs to figure out what you want! I’m not going to tiptoe around your insecurities!” He glares at you, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “You’re impossible! I can’t keep catering to your ridiculous expectations!”

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you hesitate, the weight of the situation crashing over you. But the anger is too strong, the pain too raw.

“Maybe we should just break up then!” you shout, the words searing through the room, a final, burning accusation. They slip out before you can stop them, and the moment they do, everything falls silent. You don’t even pause to consider the implications, the anger in your chest too all-consuming to hold back.

His expression hardens, but there’s a flicker of pain that flashes across his face, quickly masked by anger. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, the words caught in his throat. The silence feels like a weight pressing down on you both.

"Fuck you! FUCK YOU CHAN. I’m tired of fighting for someone who doesn’t even care about my feelings!" You push forward, fueled by the heat of the moment. “Take all your things and go! I never want to see you again!”

His eyes widen, disbelief etched across his features. “You’re kicking me out of our house? Where am I supposed to go in the middle of the night?”

Your anger flares again, and you shoot back, “Go to her! Since you’re sneaking around with her anyway, I’m sure she’d love to have you!”

The accusation stings, and he glares at you, his voice rising. “This isn’t about her! You’re the one who’s making this a bigger deal than it is!”

“Then what is it about, Chan? You don’t care about me, and you don’t care how this feels! It’s all about you and your precious friends!”

“Stop trying to paint me as the villain,” he scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It's not her fault youu dont trust me!"

“I’m the one who’s been honest with you!” you scream, the words spilling out in a desperate rush. “You’re the one sneaking around and lying! I hate this! I hate you! I hate everything about how you treat me, how you act like I’m the problem! I hate you for doing this to us!”

Chan’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks taken aback, as if your words have struck him harder than any physical blow could. The heat of your anger hangs in the air, but now there’s something else—fear. Fear that he might lose you for good.

“Wait, stop,” he says, his voice suddenly quieter, almost pleading. “You don’t really mean that, do you? You can’t hate me!”

“GET OUT!” you scream, the words tearing from your throat like a wild animal escaping a cage. The intensity of your emotions threatens to consume you, leaving no room for mercy or second chances. “Get out! Just go!”

But before you can turn away, Chan strides forward, determination etched into his features. He grabs your arms, holding you in place as he looks deep into your eyes, desperation flooding his voice. “Look at me,” he demands, his gaze piercing through the fog of anger and hurt. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me anymore, and I’ll go.”

The world around you seems to blur, his grip grounding you even as your heart races. You want to scream, to push him away, but something in the intensity of his gaze keeps you rooted in place.

“Chan…” is all you manage to say.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you hate me, and I’ll leave. I'll leave you alone and I won't bother you anymore,” he repeats, his expression a mix of desperation and fear, as if he’s bracing himself for the worst.

You open your mouth, but the words are lodged in your throat, heavy and suffocating. “I-I...."

The truth is, despite everything that’s happened, you don’t truly hate him. You hate what he’s done, how he’s made you feel, but your heart still aches for him.

"I-... Chan please." You beg, hoping he would let up on his grip.

“Please, just tell me,” he pleads, his voice softer now, as if he can sense your struggle. He gets closer, his lips now centimeters away from your ear. You can feel his breath, warm and shaky.

“I...I....I can’t,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy between you both.

“Then what do you want?" he says quietly into your ear, his voice growling almost, a mix of desperation and determination. You can feel his warmth radiating against your skin, and he places a soft kiss on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. It’s a gentle gesture, yet it carries an undercurrent of desperation.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs again, his voice low and laced with urgency, lips brushing against your skin. With each word, his kisses trail down to your jaw, lingering there, tempting you to forget the hurt and the betrayal.

You can feel your resolve wavering. His proximity, the warmth of his body, the way he’s looking at you with such intensity makes your heart race for reasons you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Chan… this isn’t fair,” you breathe, trying to push him away, but he’s relentless, his kisses growing more insistent.

“Not fair?” he whispers against your skin, his lips moving closer to your mouth. “What’s not fair is you pushing me away when you know how I feel. You know I need you. I don’t want to lose you.”

You murmur, trying to regain control, but your voice carries no words as his lips hover just above yours, his breath mingling with yours.

Then, with a sudden rush of warmth, he kisses you—softly at first, a gentle brush that ignites the embers of longing within you. It’s a kiss filled with desperation.

The warmth of his mouth against yours sends shivers down your spine, drawing you in even as your mind screams to remember the hurt, the betrayal. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting every nerve ending, making it harder to think.

“Chan…” you whisper against his lips, torn between the passion of the moment and the ache of your heart. But he deepens the kiss, his lips moving against yours with an urgency that steals your breath, coaxing you to surrender.

His tongue finds its way past your lips, his taste filling your mouth, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins. He kisses you with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

You should push him away, tell him no, but the heat of his kiss melts away the last remnants of your resistance, and before you know it, you find yourself giving in, your body responding to his touch, your desire matching his. He pulls off his shirt, his eyes still burning as he presses his lips against yours once again.

You can feel the hardness of his body against yours, the heat of his desire, and the promise of more, and sooner or later both your clothes were on the floor.

He pushed you back, your back thuding against the bed.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you tilt your head back, lost in the sensations. His hands caress your body, sending waves of pleasure through you, as his lips explore every inch of exposed skin.

The ache inside you grows stronger, demanding to be sated, and you give in to it, letting the passion take over.

He pulls back, just for a moment, just long enough to look at you with such raw need that it takes your breath away. Then, he moves forward, his body covering yours, and your eyes close as you savor the feeling of his weight on top of you.

He kisses you again, and this time, there's no holding back. His hands trail down, moving lower, his fingers gently rubbing your clit. You let out a gasp, your body responding with pleasure.

Chan could sense your desire and quickly moved to satisfy it. He gently spread your legs, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You let out a soft moan, your body arching towards him as he began to finger you.

"Oh, God," you moaned, his fingers expertly bringing you closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, his touch igniting every nerve ending, taking you higher and higher.

He kept his pace steady, his fingers moving in and out of you, the pleasure intensifying with every move.

"Yes, yes," you moaned, your body quivering, your climax nearing.

With one last thrust of his fingers, you came, your body shuddering with pleasure. Your moans fill the room, your release a release from the pent up emotions, from the pain and the hurt.

Chan barely gave you time to react when he flipped you over on all fours. He pressed his hands on your lower back and pulled your hair closer to him until his lips were right near your ear.

"You're mine, and don't you forget it." he whispers, his breath hot and heavy. You looked at his eyes reflected in the mirror that stood facing the bed.They were filled with lust, darkened with desire, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

You felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, and you bit your lip, anticipation building inside you. But instead of putting it in, he began to tease you, moving it in slow circles around your clit.

"Chan.. please.." you moaned.

"Please, what?" he replied sternly.

"I need you."

"Yeah? Beg for it," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "Beg for my cock, you little slut."

You glare at him. You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No,” you say defiantly.

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg,” he repeats, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh. You shiver, hating that your body betrays you like this. You want to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you can’t. You’re too caught up in the moment, in the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour you. He leans back, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Fine,” he says, his voice dripping with disappointment. “If you won’t beg, then I won’t give you what you want.” You watch as he releases your hair, causing you to fall foward a bit.

"Wait..p-please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Please, fuck me."

"Sorry, come again?" he says.

You clench your fists, hating that you're begging him, but you're so fucking horny. You need his cock inside you, filling you up, making you scream with pleasure. "Please, Chan, I'm begging you. Please, fuck me."

He shakes his head and grabs you again, resuming your previous position, his cock brushing against your clit again, making you gasp. "No, not yet. You need to beg some more."

You whimper, your body trembling. "Please, Chan, I'll do anything. Just fuck me already."

He chuckles, his fingers tracing your nipples, making them harden. "Anything, huh?"

He continues to tease you, his cock brushing against your clit, his fingers playing with your nipples. You're begging him, pleading with him to fuck you, but he's not listening. He's enjoying this too much, and you hate him for it.

But at the same time, you love it. You love the way he's making you feel, the way he's making your body respond to his touch.

"Please, Chan, I can't take it anymore," you gasp, your body trembling with need. "Please, fuck me."

He finally relents, his cock sliding inside you.

He started thrusting, each stroke hitting you deeper and deeper, the pleasure bordering on pain. You could see your reflection in the mirror, your face contorting in pleasure, slowly getting more...

and more ...

and more utterly fucked out.

You watched as your body arched and quivered, and the sight sent another wave of pleasure through you, intensifying the sensations. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "You're fucking mine, understand?"

You couldn't respond, the pleasure overtaking you, rendering you unable to form words. His thrusts became faster, harder, his cock reaching places you didn't even know existed.

You moaned out, shutting your eyes as you were unable to hold back, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Look at yourself, baby." he growls, his hand tightening in your hair. When Chan saw no reaction from you, he spoke again.

“Be a good girl and keep eye contact with me.” He said, lifting your chin up so you could meet the dirty image plastered in the mirror once again. You opened your eyes and your reflection looked back at you, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes hazy with lust.

You looked debauched, completely at his mercy, and you loved it. Fuck, you tightened even more with that realization.

Chan grunted, picking up the pace, fucking you harder and deeper, your cunt clenching more and more around him.

"You hate me? Are you sure? Your body tells me a different story." He said as his hips slamming into you, and you could feel the pressure building again, the pleasure intensifying.

He grunted, his movements growing erratic, and you knew he was close. "Say it," he growled, his voice laced with desire. "Say you hate me"

"I- I- I ha-ha," you breathed, your body quivering, the pleasure nearing its peak.

"Say it." he commanded, his thrusts hitting you even harder.

"I-I h-hate you," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips. He began to pound you even harder.

"Again!"

"I- I hate you. Oh, God, I hate you so much," you cried, the words spilling from your lips, your body teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

" Fucking slut. You can't resist me even if you say you hate me. Can't resist my dick inside you, can you?"

Your body shook with pleasure, and then you were coming again, the orgasm tearing through you, your cries filling the room.

And then, just as you thought it was over, his hand grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, and he pushed his cock into your mouth.

You gagged, the sudden intrusion nearly overwhelming, but the pleasure was too much, and soon, you found yourself giving in, the feeling of his cock filling your mouth, the taste of his precum sending shivers of pleasure through you. "Tell me you hate me now, huh"

You moaned, the words muffled by his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, the heat and the taste and the feel of him too much to resist.

And then, he was coming, his cock pulsing in your mouth, his cum filling you, the taste of it salty and sweet and everything you needed.

You swallowed, his cum dripping down your chin, the taste of it lingering on your tongue. You felt exhausted, drained, yet somehow satisfied, the pain and the hurt replaced by something else.

And as he pulled out, the last traces of his release spilling onto your lips, you knew that despite everything, despite the betrayal and the lies, there was still something between you, something stronger than the pain and the anger.

"Chan-"

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue probing into your mouth. You kissed him back, your body responding to his touch, the pain and the hurt giving way to desire once again.

As your lips moved together, the intensity began to shift. It softened, the anger fading as something deeper, something raw and vulnerable, took its place. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as the room fell into a quiet, charged silence.

"I’m sorry," you whispered first, the words trembling on your lips. "I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t hate you, Chan… I could never hate you. I was just—" You paused, your voice thick with emotion, your chest aching. "I was so hurt, Chan.."

Chan’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were starting to fall. “No, don’t be sorry,” he murmured, his own voice breaking slightly. “I deserved that. I didn’t tell you about her because… because I didn’t want to deal with what I knew it would do to us. I was selfish.”

Chan sighed, his eyes softening as he looked at you, the weight of his own regret heavy in the air. “I know you didn’t mean it. But I also know I gave you every reason to feel that way. I should’ve been honest. I should’ve trusted you with the truth instead of making you feel like you had to find out on your own.”

You bit your lip, the words still caught in your throat, but you forced them out. "I felt so betrayed, Chan. But it wasn’t just because of her. It was because you didn’t trust me enough to handle the truth."

His face twisted with regret, and he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I didn’t trust you, and I’m so sorry for that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us, but I only ended up hurting you more.”

You could see the remorse in his eyes, and it broke your heart to know that both of you had let things get this far. You reached up, your hand resting against his cheek as you searched his gaze. “I don’t want to fight like this. I don’t want to hurt each other.”

Chan leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he sighed deeply. “Neither do I. I don’t want to lose you because of my mistakes.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered. “But we can’t keep hiding things from each other. If we’re going to move forward… we have to be honest.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise, no more secrets. I’ll be better. I’ll be the person you deserve.”

You nodded, the heaviness in the room starting to lift, replaced by something more fragile, but real. “I’ll be better too,” you whispered, your voice full of sincerity. "I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them."

Chan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his lips brushing gently against your forehead in a silent apology. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words raw and filled with everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

"I love you too," you breathed, your heart full of both pain and hope.

In that moment, you both knew that there was still a lot to work through, but there was also a chance—a chance to heal, to rebuild. And despite everything, you wanted to try.

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riesread · 7 months ago

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Shattered Trust, Mended Hearts

— REQUESTED by ANON / REQUEST status: OPEN

— pairing • jude bellingham x soft!reader

— summary • Jude Bellingham, consumed by jealousy and fueled by rumors, believes his girlfriend is cheating on him. In a moment of anger, he refuses to let her explain, kicking her out of their shared apartment. Tragedy strikes when she gets into a life-threatening accident, leaving Jude overwhelmed by guilt and regret. With her in the hospital, he reflects on his mistakes and learns that love and trust are fragile but worth fighting for. Realizing that she never betrayed him, Jude is forced to confront his own insecurities. Together, they find a way to rebuild their broken relationship, restoring what was lost in a sea of misunderstanding and pain.

— warnings • Heavy angst, miscommunication, car accident, hospital scenes, mention of injuries, emotional turmoil.

"Jude, please, just listen to me—"

"I’ve already heard enough!" Jude's voice roared through the apartment, his anger palpable, bouncing off the walls like daggers. He stood in the kitchen, fists clenched, chest heaving, trying to contain the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. His dark eyes, usually so warm when they looked at you, were cold and distant, as if he couldn’t even recognize you.

You stood frozen near the door, the keys you had just placed on the entry table trembling under your fingers. You had no idea what you were walking into. Coming home after a long day at work, all you wanted was to relax with Jude, maybe watch a movie, talk about your day—but instead, you were met with fury.

"Jude," you whispered, your voice shaking, tears already welling in your eyes. "Please. Just tell me what’s going on."

He scoffed bitterly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Don’t act like you don’t know," he muttered, his back to you now as he stared out the window into the rainy night.

You blinked, confused. "I—I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jude whipped around, his expression dark. "Oh, don’t play innocent, Y/N. I know about you and Ryan."

The mention of Ryan's name hit you like a punch to the gut. Ryan was a colleague from work—someone you'd had to collaborate with closely for the last few weeks due to a project, but it had never been anything more than that. He was friendly, sure, but you never saw him in that way. You never even thought Jude would be suspicious. "Ryan? Jude, he's just a co-worker, we—"

"A co-worker? That’s funny, because that’s not what everyone else seems to think!" Jude's voice was dripping with bitterness, a tone you had never heard from him before. "Do you think I’m stupid? You think I don’t see the way you’ve been acting? Coming home late, spending more time with him than with me—"

You shook your head frantically, trying to approach him, but he stepped back, his face twisted in hurt and disbelief. "Jude, no, it's not like that! I swear, it’s just work! There’s nothing going on between me and Ryan, you have to believe me!"

But Jude wasn’t listening. He wasn’t hearing you. All he could see, all he could feel, was the poison that had been festering in his mind for days, the doubts and insecurities that had been fueled by whispers and rumors. He was blinded by his pain.

"You think I’m an idiot? You think I haven’t heard the rumors? Everyone’s been talking about it, Y/N. About how you and him have been seen together, laughing, having lunch, all those 'late nights' at the office. I bet they weren’t all about work, were they?"

You were shaking now, tears streaming down your face as you tried to reach out to him. "Jude, please. I would never—"

"I don’t want to hear it!" His voice cracked, loud and raw, and it silenced you. His anger was too much, too overwhelming. You had never seen him like this before—this angry, this distant. And it broke your heart to see the doubt in his eyes, the mistrust.

"I thought I knew you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost more painful than his shouts. "I thought we had something real. But maybe I was wrong."

Your chest constricted painfully, your breath hitching as you reached for him one last time, desperate to hold on to something that was slipping away. "Jude, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don’t do this. I love you."

But Jude’s gaze hardened. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t have lied to me."

The silence that followed was deafening, your heart shattering into a million pieces as he turned his back to you again, his next words sealing your fate.

"Get out."

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he had just said. "What?"

"Get. Out," he repeated, his voice quiet but firm, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you anymore. "I don’t want to see you right now."

Your world came crashing down in that moment, the weight of his words too much to bear. You opened your mouth to say something, to beg him to listen to you, but no words came out. You felt numb, completely broken.

With trembling hands, you grabbed your bag and stumbled toward the door, your vision blurry from the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. As you reached for the doorknob, you turned back one last time, hoping—praying—that Jude would stop you, that he would realize how wrong he was and call you back.

But he didn’t.

He stood there, rigid and unmoving, his eyes focused on the floor, his expression unreadable.

And so, you left.

The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes as you stepped out onto the dark street. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering both from the cold and the overwhelming despair that consumed you. You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t breathe. All you could do was walk, your feet moving without direction, aimlessly wandering the city streets, your mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.

How had things gone so wrong? How had the love you shared with Jude turned into this nightmare?

You pulled out your phone, trying to dial your friend’s number, but your hands were trembling too much to type properly. You managed to hit send, but as you crossed the street, you didn’t hear the roar of the car coming toward you until it was too late.

The blinding lights flashed before your eyes, and then— Nothing.

Jude sat on the couch, his hands covering his face as he let out a shaky breath. He had kicked you out. The realization sank in slowly, the weight of what he’d done pressing down on him like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

I kicked her out.

The anger that had burned so fiercely in him just moments ago was gone, replaced by a sickening sense of guilt and dread. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty without you there. And now, sitting there alone in the dark, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong.

His phone buzzed in his lap, dragging him out of his thoughts. It wasn’t a number he recognized.

"Hello?" His voice was hoarse, tired.

"Is this Jude Bellingham?" a woman’s voice asked, calm but urgent.

"Yes," he answered slowly, his heart beginning to race. "Who is this?"

"This is St. Mary’s Hospital. I’m calling about your partner. She’s been in an accident."

Jude felt the floor drop out from beneath him. "An accident? What—how bad is it?"

"She’s in critical condition. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible."

Jude’s legs felt like lead as he sprinted through the hospital’s sterile halls, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reached the emergency ward. His heart pounded violently in his chest, panic rising with each step.

A nurse led him to your room, where the sight of you lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, left him frozen in place.

His world shattered in that moment.

You were so pale, so still, and the beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Jude sank into the chair by your bedside, his hands shaking as he reached out to take yours.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking as tears filled his eyes. "God, I’m so sorry, *Y/N*. I didn’t mean any of it. I should’ve believed you."

He squeezed your hand gently, bringing it to his lips as his tears fell freely now. "Please wake up," he begged. "Please. I need you. I—I love you. I was so stupid. I should have trusted you."

The guilt gnawed at him, tearing him apart as he watched your chest rise and fall weakly with each breath. How had he let things spiral this far? Why hadn’t he listened? Why hadn’t he let you explain?

For three days, Jude didn’t leave your side. He barely slept, barely ate. He couldn’t think of anything else but you and how wrong he had been.

When your fingers twitched on the fourth day, Jude’s heart leapt in his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, the bright lights of the hospital room making you wince. Everything felt heavy, your body aching, and it took you a moment to remember what had happened.

"Y/N?" Jude’s voice was soft, but urgent, pulling you back to reality. You turned your head slowly, finding him sitting beside you, his face pale, eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying.

"Jude…" you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Jude reached for your hand, his fingers trembling as he held yours tightly. "I’m so sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I was so wrong, *Y/N*. I was so stupid. I—I didn’t trust you, and I should have. I should have believed you. None of this—none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t been such an idiot."

You blinked, trying to process everything, your heart aching at the sight of him so broken. "Jude…" you whispered again, trying to find the right words. "It’s okay."

"No, it’s not." He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed your hand to his lips. "It’s not okay. I almost lost you because I was too caught up in my own insecurities to trust you. I should’ve known you would never… I should’ve known better."

You looked into his eyes, the raw pain and regret there clear as day, and despite everything—despite the accident, the pain, the heartache—you still loved him. You had always loved him. "Jude, I love you," you whispered, managing a small smile despite the tears in your own eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you. I would never cheat on you."

He let out a shuddering breath, leaning down to rest his forehead against your hand. "I know," he whispered. "I know now. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear. If you’ll have me."

You squeezed his hand weakly, your voice soft but filled with emotion. "Of course I will. I’m not going anywhere."

Jude let out a soft, broken laugh through his tears, leaning in to gently press his lips to your forehead. "I love you so much," he whispered against your skin. "And I’m never letting you go again."

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham gif #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham fluff

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sun-kissy · 8 months ago

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stars & spaghetti | r.b.

a/n: here i go again, not taking a break 😭 i swear i just needed to write this! thank you @lovemenotts for encouraging me to post it 🫶 i love you lily

tw: eating disorder recovery

Regulus knows where to find you, but he also knows better than to act like he was looking for you with two bowls of food in hand.

“Hey.”

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. You turn around from where you’re sitting on the porch, giving him a small smile. “Hi.”

His heart drops a little when he sees your face, with your sunken eyes and tired expression.

“I didn’t realize you were home already. Did you come through the back?”

He hums an affirmative, sitting down next to you on the steps leading out the house.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as you slouch onto the railing on your left, blankly staring out at the road. “How’s your day been?”

Regulus casually twirls his fork into the spaghetti in his bowl before bringing it to his mouth. Maybe he believes he’s being slick, you think, but it’s obvious that he’s got twice his usual serving.

“Today’s been fine, yeah. Just busy. How was work?”

He nods in response, “Good, actually. Mark finally sent me the files I needed to get that huge contract signed, and —” He presses his fork into the pasta again, but this time brings it up to your mouth (hoping you’re too distracted to mind).

His heart drops and how instantly you swerve backwards, almost crashing into the step behind you.

“Reg,” it comes out as a betrayed hiss. You take a shaky exhale before sitting back upright. “I don’t want any; I’ve eaten dinner already.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I —“

“Then why’s the kitchen completely clean?”

Regulus never takes a harsh tone with you, and he wasn’t going to start now. There’s nothing but quiet, genuine concern in the way he asks. Guilt claws at the back of your throat anyway.

It was one of your worse days; thoughts of excessive calories and not having worked out being all you could think about. You’d stared at yourself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, cursing every flaw of your body and wondering why me.

Without your boyfriend home, it had just felt like there was no reason to fatten yourself.

“Hey,” Regulus mutters, laying his palm facing upwards on your lap. You take it. “You’re getting in your head again.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” He reaches out to gently brush a stray hair away from your face. “But do you think you could try to eat something? Please?”

Your heart stops, and it’s like your mind is reeling back into its hiding spot already. No lies on the tip of your tongue.

“It doesn’t have to be a lot, dove, he continues quietly, rubbing your fingers. “Just a few bites. You need fuel, you know.”

Regulus is looking into your eyes with that silent look now, the one which makes you feel like he’d do just about anything to save you from yourself. You don’t think you could ever say no to him.

And it wasn’t like you’d eaten anything today. You were allowed this, for your boyfriend, right?

“Fine.”

He smiles softy and tugs you closer, stamping a kiss to the side of your forehead and picking up the bowl of pasta from beside him. “So, remember that bouquet I bought you last week?”

He starts to make casual conversation as he feeds you, and you do your best to listen. It goes all the way from those flowers were expensive! to maybe we should get a cat — or a new apartment — but NOT a dog.

The food gets lodged in your throat every now and then, but you force yourself to swallow. The ‘full’ feeling starts to creep up on you like your shadow.

Regulus can sense it. “Okay, but why the hell do you like dogs?”

You decide to indulge him and go off on a tangent about the fluffy beasts, which pulls your mind away from its dark corner. The conversation makes the chore of eating easier.

You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you’re going to let him anyway.

Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you don’t even realize the bowl is empty. He stands up to put it away before you get the chance to think too hard about it.

Regulus sits back down next to you. He starts to tell you about the stars, then, and you listen intently. It’s late, but you wouldn’t know what time it is. Time didn’t exist in your little bubble.

At one point you’ve curled into him the furthest you can. Your eyelids are being pulled down by the weight of fatigue, his comforting presence lulling you closer towards sleep.

He thinks you don’t hear it when he murmurs a soft I’m proud of you. You do.

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lodeddiperactivate · 10 months ago

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A new kind of high (Barry x Reader)

Pairing: Barry x fem!reader

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: smut, drugs

Summary: You have never done drugs before but decided you wanted to try it just so you can finally understand what the hype is all about.

Author’s note: I'm obsessed with Barry pls I need him to split me in half. I have a lot of Barry fics coming soon so please reblog if you enjoy this so I would know, and that would fuel this hyperfixation.

You have never done drugs before but decided you wanted to try it just so you can finally understand what the hype is all about.

"Aight princess, so what you need to do is..." Barry started explaining the basics.

You've only met him a couple of times in passing when Rafe needed supply. And even though, everyone has warned you to stay away from him, the truth is that you were intrigued, which is another way of saying you had a crush on him. You couldn't really help it when he's so flirty with you but you do know that there is a dark side to him, which is why he was not your first or second choice when you finally decided to try drugs.

"Rafe, come on, you're really saying No to this? You?"

"I'm sorry but I have to go to the mainland today for business. Why don't you ask Topper to teach you?"

"I already did but then he freaked out so I think he might rat me out to my parents. I need someone I can trust!"

"I'm sorry but I have to go now. We'll do it when I come back!"

"Yeah, in two weeks!" You called out to him as he boarded the truck with his dad. You sighed and decided to walk back home. That was when you saw Barry talking to one of the kooks, probably selling them stuff.

You stood there for a while, deciding if you want to ask him to help you out. You decided against it and started walking away when you heard him call your name.

"Oh hey Barry."

"Hi princess, is country club at home right now?"

"He just left for the mainland, won't be back until the end of the month."

"Shit, I swear that kid's gonna take a beating when he comes back."

You haven't realized it but you were now looking at the small bag of white powder in his hands. He looked down at what you were looking at.

"Saw something you like?" He said as he lifted the bag.

"Oh no, I was..." you stuttered. "Yes, err maybe?"

Barry gave a light chuckle before admiring you in your cute yellow sundress. Your innocence intrigued him but he was mostly impressed with your insane level of curiosity.

He moved closer and placed a hand on your lower back guiding you closer to his side as he whispered, "Come on, let's go back to my place and I'll teach you how," he said as if reading your mind. You obliged.

"Aight princess, so what you need to do is bring your nose closer like this and snort the line," after Barry showed you how it's done, it was your turn. Surprisingly it was not as bad or difficult as you thought it was.

"Good girl," he whispered in your ear. You can feel your pussy pulsate at his words. You find yourself leaning closer to him as if in a trance, wanting to close the gap between the two of you. You snapped out of it when you heard him talk.

"You alright, princess?" He had his hands on your shoulder to steady you.

"Yeah sorry, I just didn't expect the effects to be that quick," you said as he did another line. He looked at you and grinned.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just thought you were one of the good ones."

"The good ones? What's the supposed to mean? I can be bad," you tried to defend yourself.

"That's not what I meant, dollface," Barry said as he rested his arm on the back of the couch, leaning closer so that your lips are mere inches away from one another. You haven't realized it but your hand was on his knees, supporting your weight as you leaned even closer.

"I know you can be bad," his other hand pushed the hair over your shoulders as it trails down to play with the strap of your sundress. "Why don't you show me how bad you are hmm?"

You half-breathed, half-moaned his name before allowing your lips to crash on his. You were quick to reposition yourself so that you were straddling him on the couch. His hands found its way to your ass, lifting your dress along the way so that there's little fabric between your pussy and his cock. You grinded on top of him and you feel him groaned and moaned your name into the kiss.

With one quick move, he unbuckled his belt and lowered his shorts to reveal his fully erect cock. You moaned at the sight, obviously feeling the full effects of the drugs now, you instinctively got off him and on your knees ready to taste him.

"Why don't you show me what that pretty mouth can do?" His voice was like honey and you mindlessly licked him from base to tip, before sucking him fully. Barry threw his head back and grabbed your head, guiding you.

"Oh baby, you're so bad," he said encouraging you. "I bet none of the guys on your side of the town can make you feel this kind of rush huh?"

You lifted your head up to him smirking, "you have no idea how boring that side of town is."

"Hmmm you get off on a little danger huh, a little fear?" Barry said as he pulled out a gun from the back of his shorts. You froze at the sight of the gun.

"Don't worry baby, not gonna hurt ya, come here."

You straddle him and he arranged a line of coke on the flat portion of the barrel, and he held it up to your face. "Go on baby, it's gonna feel so good," he encouraged. Your mind was hazy from the first but you can feel yourself get even more wet from this whole thing. You grind on top of him, trying to feel as much as you can of him as you snorted the line on his gun. He then proceeded to lift your dress and pull your panties to the side so he can tease you by rubbing his tip at the entrance of your pussy. The knot in your stomach becomes more evident as you cannot control your whimpers, you rested your head on Barry's shoulders as he positioned himself, ready to enter you.

"It's alright princess, I got you," he said as he slowly dipped the tip inside you. You moaned his name into his ear. He couldn't believe this was happening, he had always to some extent fantasized about you but never really did anything as he thought his lifestyle was too much for you. Seeing that you were more than interested in learning all of it, he took that opportunity and eased himself even more inside you. Your walls accepted him as you feel every inch of him inside you, hitting all the right spots.

"Barry, please.." that was all he needed to bottomed himself inside you. You yelped at the impact but slowly adjusted. He was big and thick and filled you in all the right ways. You started to slowly grind on him, your hands on his chest supporting yourself. He looked up at you with hooded eyes and your head was thrown back, moaning his name again and again.

"Never thought I'd hear you moan my name like that princess. Fuck!"

You looked at him and smirked, "told you I'm not some fragile spoiled kook," you leaned in to whisper in his ears seductively, "I can take it."

"Oh yeah?" Barry grinned as he burried his nails on your hips, holding you into place, and proceeded to rail you thrusting his hips upwards so you can take more of him. You were held in place by Barry's strong grip so all you could do was hold the back of the sofa for support and another hand on Barry's chest. Your mouth was wide open and your eyes rolling from pleasure. Barry has no intention of slowing down and you were almost at your limits. Barry kept pounding you, thrusting his hips upward as he brought yours down, matching the rhythm perfectly.

"Barry, please, I'm close!"

"That's right, such a needy little slut, tell me what you want baby."

"I wanna come! I wanna come! I'm gonna come!"

"Shit, me too baby. Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside me, please, I want it. I need it!"

"Fuck!" Barry moaned as he felt you cum all over him, followed by him blowing his cum all over your insides.

You collapsed on top of him, him still inside you. You rested your head on his chest as you tried to calm your breathing. Coming down from the high, Barry let out a low hum as he stroked your back and hair, pushing it away from your face. You grinded a few times before letting him slip out of you.

You were both still breathing heavily as you sat side by side, slouched on the sofa. When you looked up at him, he had his eyes closed. He can feel you watching him.

"So how much do I owe you for the coke?" You jokingly ask.

He opened his eyes and looked at you, he had a wild grin on his face. He leaned closer so you were looking directly into his deep rich brown eyes, "Maybe I can come up with a different kind of payment method for you," he said as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

#outer banks #obx smut #barry obx smut #barry obx #barry obx x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks x y/n #obx!barry #rafe cameron

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