#{ & about } I move so little & eat so much. I no longer need sleep to feel rejuvenated. I am like unto a GOD Archie. Respect me as such.

[msfbgraves]

I'd like to come to this sideways, a little. It's easy to say: "Women! Throw off the yoke of performative cleanliness and go out to really live life!" And of course you can imprison another person with housework, as a form of abuse. But I feel that there's an unspoken assumption that if the cleaning were undone, and the cooking, people would all have energy enough to thrive anyway. Because we're not old, and our cup runneth over.

Well, I have had the problems of old age since I was two and often the thing that gave me enough energy to actually do all the 'real living' that is so prized was a tidy, clean environment. Mess saps energy, and sure, maybe most can get energised in smelly sheets but a clean bed and tidy room can make the difference between a normal day and a pain flare that makes moving impossible. Time spent cleaning is not wasted. Cleaning more than you need to to feel comfortable is time wasted, sure. Scrubbing your toilet with a toothbrush because some abuser is looking for an excuse to hurt you is life wasted. But if you stop cleaning because you have so many 'better'things to do, you better be really healthy and strong or you won't be able to have any fun at all.

"sleep if you must. Shower if you must. Eat if you must..." Nobody would say that. And cleanliness is not about some silly esthetic no one cares about, either.

Really where would you rather have a cold: next to an overflowing bin with a laundry pile and a dirty microwave? Or in between clean sheets with clean bedding and a clean shower and plenty clean bowls for pre made chicken soup? Especially since you might just about manage to make the soup in a clean kitchen, but might lack the power to clean the counters and do the dishes you'd need to make the soup first and would therefore be sick slightly longer. Isn't that even more badly wasted life?

Clean as much as you need, not as much as society says, but this idea that it's not part of a good life is idiotic. Again a clean environment may be the only thing to enable anyone to swim the rivers and climb the mountains in the first place.

It's not trivial. A clean environment restores.

And it's not sisyphean either. Sisyphus' work had no point. Cleanliness has all the point in the world.

[fleurbly]

SOME HELL TO TAKE US TO HEAVEN

summary: the silence between you and him breaks the night you seek the gardener's touch, but it's remmick who finds you— bloodstained and defiant. blood stains everything, and remmick's claim is darker and more relentless than ever.

warnings: infidelity (just a smooch on the lips dw), angst, explicit content, sex in front of a corpse, blood kink, breeding kink if you squint, themes of: jealously, obsession, and possessiveness, violence (very subtle), oh and did i mention finger licking smut.

pairing: remmick x reader

w/c: 7k+

MINORS DNI, DNI IF TAGS AFFECT YOU

You don’t remember what day it is.

It never matters.

The curtains are always drawn. The clocks are always quiet. The house is too big, too clean, and too still—like it’s waiting for something. Or maybe mourning something that already happened.

You move through it like you’re underwater. Every step soft, every room colder than the last. The halls stretch on forever, filled with portraits you don’t recognize and furniture no one ever uses.

Servants pass you in silence. Eyes down. Hands folded. Like they’re scared of you. Or worse—trained.

You don’t speak. You don’t sleep.

You just… exist.

And Remmick?

He watches you like he’s still afraid you’ll disappear. Like he hasn’t already taken everything that made you you. He walks beside you, sits across from you at the long dining table, always close, always quiet. Pretending this is normal. Pretending you’re his.

But you remember the moment it all changed.

The pleading. The bite. The way his hands shook when he held you down and said, “I won’t let you go.”

You didn’t want forever.

He gave it to you anyway.

Now you wake up in silk sheets and live in a world you never chose. A beautiful, lifeless cage. A body that doesn’t age. A heart that doesn’t beat.

And somewhere deep down, past the numbness, past the quiet—

You’re starting to feel angry.

You sit at the long dining table, the weight of the silverware pressing cold against your fingers. The breakfast on your plate sits untouched for minutes, the eggs turning gray and the toast hardening. You drag your fork around the plate, making little circles but not really eating. You don’t remember the last time you felt hunger—or anything much at all.

The house is quiet. Too quiet. Only the faint rustle of curtains in the breeze and the distant creak of floorboards remind you it’s alive.

Remmick is across from you, staring in that calm, quiet way he always does. It’s been weeks—maybe months—since either of you spoke more than what was necessary. The silence between you is thick and cold, like a wall neither wants to break.

You stare down at your plate again, wishing you could disappear into the cold marble beneath your feet.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“We brought in a gardener,” he says, voice low and rough like it’s no big deal.

You lift your head, surprised. “A gardener? That’s pretty dumb, don’t you think? Bringing someone new here when we ain’t even allowed outside.”

He shrugs, like it don’t bother him none. “Agnes wanted it. Said the place’s been dead quiet for too long. Said we needed somethin’ living around.”

You know Agnes. The old woman who’s been here forever, watching you both with eyes that never miss a thing. She’s the only one who knows everything. She knows what Remmick did to you—how he stole your life and made you this.

You stare at Remmick. “You know Agnes knows what you did. She knows you forced me into this. You took my life and left me stuck.”

His eyes darken. “I did what I had to. I ain’t about to lose you—not again.”

You shake your head bitterly. “Well, hiring a gardener so I can watch someone else live while I’m trapped here? That’s just cruel.”

He doesn’t say nothing else. Just leans back and watches you, calm but burning underneath.

You stare at him a moment longer, the silence stretching between you like a thick rope pulling tight.

Finally, you break it. “Does Agnes even know what it’s like? Being stuck in this place, livin’ forever like some damn ghost? Watchin’ the world move on without you?”

Remmick’s jaw tightens. His eyes flick away, then back, like he’s fighting some words. “She knows more than you think. Been around long enough to see what all this does.”

You scoff, bitter and sharp. “Yeah, well, seeing ain’t the same as caring.”

He leans forward then, that rough voice low and steady. “I care. More than you know. Don’t mean it ain’t hell, but it’s hell with me by your side.”

You want to yell at him. To tell him he can’t fix this, that you don’t want his kind of ‘care.’ But the words catch somewhere deep, tangled with the pain and anger you both bury.

So you stay quiet.

Remmick’s gaze softens for the briefest second, then hardens again like he’s pulling himself back from something.

“Look,” he says, voice rough but honest, “I’m tryin’. Maybe not the way you want. But I’m here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You want to believe him. You want to reach across the table and grab whatever’s left of him. But all you do is swallow the lump in your throat and stare at the cold silverware in your hands.

Outside, somewhere beyond these walls, the gardener moves through the grounds. A reminder that life still breathes—even if you don’t.

You stand in the darkest corner of the big, empty room, where the sunlight never quite reaches. The curtains block most of it, but thin slivers sneak through, carving pale lines on the floor and dust motes drifting lazily in the air. It’s cool here, the only place you feel safe from the harsh, burning world outside—because you know you can’t touch it.

Outside the window, the gardener moves through the sprawling gardens, wiping sweat from his forehead and rolling up his sleeves. His skin shines faintly, alive and warm in a way you’ll never be again. You watch him carefully, fascinated, like he’s a mystery you don’t quite know how to solve.

He’s new. Someone who’s not bound by the silence or the rules of the house. Someone who probably hasn’t been told to never speak to you or anyone else. And maybe, just maybe, someone who reminds you what it feels like to be mortal.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the windowsill, gripping it as if it might hold you in place. You’ve never felt this strange mixture of jealousy and hope. You don’t know what he’s thinking. You don’t know if he sees you.

The house feels heavy around you, like it’s trying to pull you back into its cold grip.

Curiosity pushes you forward, and before you know it, you’re moving quietly down the marble staircase, your footsteps silent against the thick rug. You slip through the halls, careful to stay in the shadows, your heart hammering in a way it hasn’t in years.

You round the corner near the kitchen just as the gardener comes through the back door, pushing his shirt up over his head to wipe the sweat from his neck. His skin gleams faintly, muscles flexing with the motion.

You don’t mean to make a sound, but your sudden breath catches in your throat, and you startle him.

He spins around, eyes wide and alert, the shirt falling back into place.

You hold up your hands, trying to calm him. “Sorry… didn’t mean to scare you.”

He blinks, recovering quickly. “Uh… no worries. You’re…?”

…someone who’s not usually seen,” you say, lips curling into the ghost of a smile. “But I live here.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing just slightly, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or testing him. “Didn’t know anyone was home. I’ve been out there all morning.”

“I noticed,” you say, voice softer now. “From the upstairs window.”

He rubs the back of his neck, still a little out of breath. “Guess I should’ve waved.”

That almost makes you laugh. Almost. You step closer, just enough so you’re no longer tucked behind the hallway wall, but still safely out of reach of the sunbeams stretching across the floor.

“You’re the new gardener,” you say, like you’re confirming it for yourself.

He nods. “Yeah. Nate. Got the job through an old lady—Agnes, I think?”

That name makes your spine stiffen.

You nod once, slowly. “She’s been here a long time.”

“She kinda runs the place?”

You huff under your breath. “Something like that.”

He looks at you again, this time longer. Not in a rude way, just… curious. Trying to place you. “You don’t look like staff.”

“I’m not.” You glance past him at the open back door. Bright light spills in, touching the edge of the stone floor. You don’t go near it.

He follows your gaze, then looks back. “You alright?”

You pause. It’s not a question you get asked. Not by anyone real. Not for years.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just… not used to new faces.”

“Well,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans again, “guess we’ll have to fix that.”

You don’t answer, but you don’t turn away either.

And when he walks past you toward the hallway, whistling low under his breath, you feel something strange stir in your chest.

Something close to warmth.

Something dangerously close to wanting.

You’re still watching the hallway where the gardener disappeared when a voice, low and surprised, cuts through the silence behind you.

“Well, I’ll be.”

Your body tenses. Slowly, you turn your head.

Remmick stands just behind you, arms crossed over his chest, leaning lazily against the doorway like he hasn’t been watching this whole time. Like he didn’t just catch you somewhere you never should’ve been.

He raises an eyebrow, eyes cutting toward the door.

“You lost or somethin’, sweetheart?”

You blink, mouth parting. “I was just…”

“Just what?” he asks, stepping further into the hall, boots soft on the rug. “Wanderin’? Sightseein’? Didn’t know this dusty corner of the house got so interestin’ all of a sudden.”

You don’t answer. You don’t lie, either.

Remmick watches you a moment longer, then tilts his head slightly.

“You’ve been actin’ strange,” he says, quieter now. “Since the new hire showed up.”

You look back toward the door. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah?” His voice drops, soft but sharp. “You sure? ’Cause I ain’t seen you downstairs in… what, months? And now you’re standin’ here like you’re waitin’ on somethin’. Or someone.”

You clench your jaw, gaze fixed on the sliver of sunlight crawling across the tiled floor.

“I’m not waitin’ on anyone,” you mutter.

Remmick steps closer, slow and deliberate. Not enough to crowd you — just enough to remind you he’s always near.

“Agnes said you been quiet lately,” he says. “Quieter than usual. Though then once this boy shows up, and suddenly you’re wide awake. That ain’t nothin’, darlin’. That’s somethin’.”

You finally turn to face him. His expression is unreadable, calm, but watching you like a hawk.

“You spying on me now?” you ask, voice cool.

He chuckles under his breath. “You really think I ever stopped?”

You hate that he’s probably right.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The hallway feels too still. Like the house is listening.

You fold your arms, lean back against the wall. “You jealous?”

Remmick’s mouth twitches, but not into a smile.

“I don’t get jealous,” he says. “I get curious. And right now, I’m real curious why you’re suddenly watchin’ a man who don’t even know what you are.”

You look away, throat tight. “He doesn’t matter.”

His voice lowers. “Then why’re you still starin’ at that door like he’s comin’ back?”

You don’t answer.

And Remmick doesn’t push.

After a long moment, he sighs, voice low and rough. “I don’t know what you’re playing at,” he says, stepping closer, eyes sharp. “But if I were you, I’d stop. Before I cut off your little… interactions with him.”

You turn to face him, eyes hard.

“Cut me off?” you repeat, voice steady. “You think you can control who I talk to now?”

He shrugs, but there’s something dangerous in his calm.

“I don’t have to control you. You choose to stay here. In that room. Away from everything. Away from me.”

Your jaw tightens.

“Maybe I choose it because it’s the only place I don’t have to feel your breath on my neck.”

Without another word, you turn sharply on your heel and stride away, each step fueled by the fire burning beneath your skin. Your anger drowns out the heavy silence, your heart hammering louder than your footsteps.

Remmick’s voice cuts through the still air, rough and urgent, but you don’t look back as he yells out your name angrily.

It had been more than a month since the gardener arrived.

Since Nate arrived.

Time slipped strangely in this place — too fast when you wanted it to slow down, and agonizingly slow when all you wanted was change. You had been watching him from windows, from shadowed hallways, from the corners where the light didn’t reach. And during that time, Remmick had… changed.

He wasn’t gone. Not really. He still lingered in doorways, in mirrors, in the space just behind your shoulder. But he spoke less. Watched more. Distant — or something like it. If someone asked, you wouldn’t even know how to describe what he was to you. Not a lover. Not anymore. Not since that last touch that barely felt like one. Not since you started counting the silence between his visits.

You thought maybe he was pulling away.

Or maybe you were.

It’s late when you go downstairs. The house is quiet, like it’s sleeping. You like it that way. No voices. No eyes. Just your bare feet brushing against the cold wood as you make your way to the kitchen. You weren’t expecting to see anyone. You weren’t wearing anything special — just the same worn shirt and shorts you always wore to bed, your hair a little messy, your eyes tired.

You reach for a glass, the tap whispering as you fill it.

Then you hear a soft sound — a shuffle behind you.

You turn slowly.

And there he is. Nate. Standing near the far end of the counter, like he’s been there a minute or two but didn’t want to scare you.

“Oh—sorry,” he says quickly, hands lifting a little. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You blink, heart giving a strange little lurch. “No, it’s okay,” you say. “Just… didn’t think anyone else was up.”

He gives you a small smile, eyes flicking down, then back up. “Could say the same about you.”

He looks warm, even in the dim light. Hair tousled, shirt a little wrinkled like he’d been tossing in bed, or hadn’t gone at all. He leans back against the counter, arms crossed lightly. He’s looking at you in a way that makes your skin feel too tight.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say.

He nods. “Same.”

The silence stretches between you again, but it isn’t awkward. It’s just… charged. You sip your water, but your hands feel shaky.

You shouldn’t be here.

Not with him.

Not like this.

He moves before you can think too hard — steps just a little closer. Not enough to touch, but enough to feel it. That tension. That pull. That thing inside you that’s been curling tighter and tighter the longer you go untouched.

“Do you… like it here?” he asks, voice low.

You glance up at him. “This house?”

He nods.

You shrug, setting the glass down. “It’s not really a matter of liking it. It’s just where I am.”

He watches you for a second, then says, “Doesn’t feel like you belong here.”

That makes you laugh, soft and dry. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

He tilts his head. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. You just… feel too real for a place like this.”

You don’t know what happens next. Maybe it’s the way he says it. Or the way he looks at you like he actually sees you. Or maybe it’s the memory of how long it’s been since anyone reached for you like they meant it.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping into him — and kissing him.

It’s not gentle. It’s not planned.

You just grab the front of his shirt and pull him in like you’ve been starving for it. His mouth is warm, surprised at first — then hungry. You taste sweat, sleep, something earthy. Something real.

Your body presses to his, your fingers curling into the fabric like it’s the only thing holding you together. His hand finds your waist, fingers tentative but firm. You let yourself sink into it — dizzy, warm, burning. You don’t even realize your eyes are closed until the kiss breaks and you’re left panting.

You step back a little, your heart thudding loud in your ears.

“I…” you start, but the words fall apart.

You don’t know why you did it.

To feel something?

To forget how cold Remmick has become?

To punish him for every time he looked through you like glass?

You shake your head, unable to meet Nate’s eyes.

“I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper.

And it’s true.

But you already know it’s too late to take it back.

And then —

A creak.

The subtle, dragging sound of worn shoes on wood.

You look up, heart jerking into your throat.

Agnes is standing in the doorway.

Half-shadowed, half-lit by the hallway lamp behind her. She says nothing. Just… stares. One hand curled loosely around the hem of her shawl. Her face unreadable. Pale eyes watching like you’d stepped into a play she’s already seen before.

You jump, hands instantly pushing Nate back.

Too late.

Agnes doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

Just stands there, unmoving.

The room feels suddenly colder.

You open your mouth. No words come.

She still doesn’t say anything. Just… slowly turns and walks back into the hall.

Like she never saw a thing.

But you know better.

You felt her see it.

ADD DIVIDER HERE

Dinner sat cold between you, untouched like everything else lately. The quiet in the room wasn’t peaceful — it was heavy, like a weight pressing down on your chest. You could feel Remmick’s eyes burning into you from the other side of the table, watching, waiting. He wasn’t moving, just sitting there, hands clenched on his lap, jaw tight.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was low, slow, and rough with anger— that drawl twisting his words like a knife. “You don’t have much appetite these days. What’s eatin’ at you, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You kept your gaze on your plate, tracing the chipped edge with your finger, your stomach knotting with guilt and something else. He leaned forward a little, eyes sharper now, darker— like he was trying to burn the truth out of you.

“Agnes told me. She seen you, didn’t she?” His voice dropped, low and dangerous. ��Saw you with that damn gardener. Told me every goddamn detail.”

You finally met his eyes. “She doesn’t know what she saw.”

His laugh was cold, bitter. “Don’t play me for a fool. I’m not blind, and I ain’t stupid.”

You shook your head slowly, stubborn as ever. “I didn’t plan it. But it happened.”

His fist slammed the table, rattling the dishes. “You kissed him.”

“Yes,” you said, voice steady even though your heart felt like it might burst. “I needed something real. Something you stopped giving me.”

His eyes burned brighter, fury laced with jealousy. “You think you just walk up and take what you want? What makes you think he’s better than me?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and met his gaze head on. “We used to be something, Remmick. But you… you turned me into someone I didn’t even recognize.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” he snarled, voice shaking with barely contained rage. “I’ve been here. Every damn day.”

“Not really,” you snapped back. “You’ve been here, but you’ve been gone. You stopped touching me, stopped looking at me like I mattered.”

He stood up suddenly, boots thudding on the floor, pacing like a caged animal. “You think I don’t want you? You think I’m not burnin’ up inside watching you slip away?”

You stayed seated, jaw tight, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crack. “I didn’t ask for this,” you said. “But it happened. I was starving for something real. And you—you left me starvin’ in this goddamn house.”

He stopped pacing, stepping close enough that you could see the wild fire in his eyes. “You’re mine,” he growled, voice low and fierce. “And don’t you forget it.”

You lifted your chin, cold and defiant. “Then maybe you should’ve acted like it before this got so damn far.”

The silence stretched between you— thick and electric. Neither of you moved, caught in the eye of a storm that was only just beginning to rage.

The tablecloth whipped off the long wooden table with a sudden, violent yank. Plates, glasses, silverware—all smashed onto the floor, the crash echoing like gunshots in the stillness of the room. Your breath hitched, heart pounding loud in your ears, while your eyes darted between the shattered mess and the man standing right in front of you.

Remmick wasn’t just angry—he was a storm about to break. His gaze burned through you, dark and wild, and before you could even think of moving, his hands shot forward and grabbed the arms of your chair with a grip so tight it almost hurt. His fingers curled around the wood like iron clamps, pinning you there.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sheer force of it. You were trapped, caged, held in place not just by his hands but by the fierce, furious energy radiating off him. He wasn’t letting you go. Not now. Not ever.

He leaned down slightly, his face close enough that you could see every flicker of rage and desperation in his eyes. His voice dropped low, rough like gravel scraping against stone.

“Where d’you think you’re gonna go, huh?” he growled, his breath hot against your cheek. “Out that door? Back to him? Like you could just walk away from me like I’m some damn ghost?”

Your chest tightened, lungs struggling to draw a steady breath under the weight of his stare. You wanted to pull away, to push him off, but his grip was relentless. It was like he was physically tethering you to this moment, refusing to let you slip away.

“You think you can just throw all this away? After everything?” His voice cracked, raw with jealousy, pain, and something dangerously close to obsession. “You think I’m just gonna sit back and watch you... fall apart in someone else’s arms?”

The heat of his anger was suffocating, but beneath it, you caught something darker—something broken. A twisted kind of love that wasn’t tender or soft. It was jagged, sharp, and fierce, and it clawed at your skin.

“I’m not lettin’ you go,” he snarled, voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper now, like a threat wrapped in a confession. “You’re mine. You don’t get to just walk outta here and pretend like nothin’ happened.”

Your mind reeled, heart pounding like a wild drumbeat. You’d never seen this side of him before—so raw, so brutal. You wanted to fight back, to break free, but there was something about the way he held you, caged you, that made you freeze.

For a long moment, you just sat there, breathing hard, caught in the storm of his fury and the tangled mess of your own guilt and stubbornness.

Suddenly, he pulled back. Like your skin had burned him.

Remmick ripped his hands off the chair and staggered back a few steps, running both hands through his hair hard— fisting the hair, tugging like he needed pain to ground him. He paced, turned halfway from you, then spun back like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to yell or throw something.

“I can’t even stand to look at you right now,” he spat, voice rough and shaking with rage.

You flinched, just barely. But he caught it.

“Oh, now you flinch?” he barked, laughing bitterly. “That’s rich.”

His boots scuffed loudly against the floor as he paced again, one hand bracing on the back of a chair like he was trying to hold himself up. His chest heaved with shallow, furious breaths.

“You—you went behind my back,” he said, louder now, like each word was being dragged out of him. “With him. Like I was some fuckin’ ghost to you. Like I didn’t matter.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already shaking his head.

“Nah. Don’t. Don’t give me some half-assed excuse. Don’t act like you didn’t know exactly what you were doin’. You knew what it would do to me.”

He turned to you again—his expression cracked open, not soft, but shredded. Angry and hurt and unhinged all at once.

“Get outta my sight.”

You didn’t move.

“I said go,” he snapped, voice breaking. “’Fore I say somethin’ I can’t take back. Because right now? Right now I don’t even know what the hell’s stoppin’ me.”

You stood slowly, your legs shaking under you, but you held his gaze. Even as his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. Even as his hands curled into fists at his sides.

He looked at you like you were everything he’d ever wanted and the one thing that could destroy him in the same breath.

You stood there, hands trembling at your sides — not from fear, but from everything boiling under your skin. You stared him down, jaw tight, pulse hammering in your throat.

He wanted you gone? Fine. But you weren’t walking out without saying what needed to be said.

“You wanna act like this is new?” Your voice was sharp now, cold, slicing through the tension like a blade. “We were already done the second you turned me, Remmick.”

That stopped him cold.

He froze mid-step, back to you, fists clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. You could practically see the heat rolling off him as the silence stretched—tense, waiting, dangerous.

He turned around slow. Eyes wide, lips parted like he couldn’t believe you actually said it. “You wanna say that again?” he asked, low and lethal.

You didn’t hesitate.

“We. Were. Done,” you repeated, voice louder now, throat burning. “The moment you made that choice for me. When you took everything I was and twisted it into something that only fit you.”

He laughed—but it was wrong. Broken. Hollow and dark and shaking with disbelief. “So that’s it? That’s what I am now? Some monster who ruined you?”

“You didn’t ruin me,” you snapped. “You lost me. Big difference.”

That did it.

He exploded.

In one motion he kicked the chair nearest him hard, sending it crashing against the wall with a loud bang that echoed through the room. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands—like he wanted to break something or scream or grab you and make you feel how much you still belonged to him.

“You think I didn’t feel that night?” he shouted, voice fraying. “You think I didn’t carry it with me every goddamn day since? I never wanted to hurt you!”

“But you did,” you said, voice low now. “And you keep doing it. With silence. With anger. With this—” you gestured between you, the broken plates, the broken everything. “This isn’t love, Remmick. Not anymore.”

His chest heaved, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.

And then he did the worst thing of all.

He said nothing.

He just looked at you—ruined and furious and helpless—and didn’t say a damn thing to stop you as you turned to leave.

It had been a month.

Thirty long, bitter days where silence settled in like mold, clinging to the walls, seeping into the floorboards. If it was even possible, the house felt darker now. Quieter. Not just in sound—but in weight, in presence, in everything it used to hold.

You hadn’t seen Remmick since that night. Not properly, at least. You felt him, though. Somewhere in the house, pacing the halls like a storm with nowhere left to strike. His boots echoed sometimes through the upstairs hallway in the dead of night—slow, heavy steps that always stopped right outside your door. But he never knocked.

Surprisingly, he never did anything about Nate either. Never went after him. Never brought it up again. That made it worse somehow—like he was waiting for something. Or maybe punishing you by doing nothing at all.

You avoided Nate like the plague. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t let yourself. Not when everything between you was soaked in guilt. Not when Agnes had seen. Not when it had blown your world apart.

And Remmick? You hadn't spoken a single word to him.

Not one.

Agnes knocked every evening, soft little taps against the wood. Sometimes she even called your name, her voice muffled, strange, unreadable.

You never answered.

You only opened the door once the hallway was empty, grabbed the plate of food in silence, then set it back out hours later—cold and barely touched. Some nights you didn’t eat at all. You weren’t even sure you were hungry anymore.

You were more of a ghost now than anything else.

No longer someone loved. No longer someone feared.

Just… someone who had ruined everything.

You knew it was your fault. There was no denying it now, no softening it, no excuse to spin. You’d kissed Nate. You’d let it happen. You didn’t stop it. You’d looked at him like he saw something in you, something good. And you liked it.

But liking it didn’t make it right.

Liking it didn’t take back the way Remmick had looked at you that night— like you'd broken him in a way that couldn’t be put back together.

The walls of your room felt tighter now. Smaller. You spent your days staring out the window, watching a world that moved on without you. The curtains stayed drawn most of the time, and the air smelled like dust and rain.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Maybe you were just waiting for something to change— anything. But the silence held. And so did you.

The house was silent that night. Not just quiet— silent. The kind of stillness that felt too heavy to be natural. It clung to the walls, to the floor beneath your bare feet, and hummed in the corners like it was waiting for something to break.

Everyone was probably asleep.

Probably.

But you knew better.

Remmick was out there somewhere. Watching. Listening. Waiting. He always was.

You stood in the middle of your room for a long time before moving, staring at the door like it might open on its own. Like someone might be out there, daring you to step through.

But nothing happened.

Still, something tugged at you. Hunger. Thirst. Anger. Everything. It was all wound tight inside your chest like a coil ready to snap, and you were tired of pretending it wasn’t.

So you opened the door.

The hallway was dim, only moonlight from the windows painting long lines across the wooden floor. No footsteps. No voices. Just that same thick silence.

You didn’t look around. You didn’t need to.

You already knew he was there. Somewhere in the dark. Watching. Always watching.

But you didn’t stop. You walked down the hallway, each step slower than the last, until you reached Nate’s door. You didn’t knock.

You just turned the handle.

He was sitting on his bed, still fully dressed like he hadn’t expected to sleep. Like maybe part of him had been waiting, too. His eyes widened the moment he saw you, surprise flickering fast across his face.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, cautious.

You didn’t answer. You stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you with a soft click. Nate stood up slowly. “Hey,” he said again, softer now. “Did something happen?”

Your eyes met his, and something in your stare made him pause. You weren’t the same as you had been a month ago. There was something darker behind your gaze now—something that didn’t flinch.

“You were right,” you said calmly, walking toward him. “That night in the kitchen. You saw something in me. And I think I liked it.”

He blinked, clearly unsure if this was real. His shoulders tensed. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Remmick, but—”

You cut him off with a smile. But it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was sharp.

“Remmick doesn’t matter tonight.”

Nate stared at you, jaw clenched. He didn’t move as you stepped closer. You stopped only when you were a breath away, your hand lightly grazing the front of his shirt.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” you whispered, voice honey-slick and low. “You’ve been thinking about it. About me. About what could’ve happened if we hadn’t been caught.”

His breath hitched. “You’re not like this.”

“Not like what?” you asked, tilting your head. “Honest? Hungry?”

You leaned in closer, brushing your lips near his ear. “Desperate?”

Nate’s hands hovered in the air like he didn’t know whether to touch you or push you away. “You’re upset. You’re not thinking straight.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “I’ve never thought clearer.”

He swallowed hard, eyes scanning your face. Your expression didn’t waver. There was nothing soft left in it.

You reached up and placed your hands gently on his chest. Your fingers moved slow, deliberate, dragging across the fabric. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and unsure.

He exhaled shakily. “Why are you here?”

Your hands stilled. Then you smiled again.

“Because you wanted me here.”

And he did. That much was obvious. But something deep in his gut started to twist. Unease. Fear. He opened his mouth to speak again, to say something, anything—

But your hands were already moving.

You leaned in, close enough for your lips to graze his jaw.

Then, just as your voice dropped to a whisper:

“I’m sorry.”

Your mouth met his neck.

And then you bit.

Blood was everywhere.

It soaked the sheets, dripped onto the hardwood, splattered across your arms, your throat, your collarbone. Nate’s body lay discarded on the floor, neck torn open, eyes still wide in shock. The warmth of him was already fading, pooling dark beneath him like ink bleeding from paper.

You stood over him, chest heaving, hands shaking—but not from regret. Not fear.

No.

From something colder. Hungrier.

The silence in the room was thick—until it wasn’t.

You didn’t hear the door open.

But suddenly, he was there.

Remmick.

He stood in the doorway like a shadow made flesh, his tall frame swallowing the moonlight, eyes locked on you—not the body, not the mess, just you.

And he looked...

Ravenous.

Not angry.

Not shocked.

Devoted.

His boots tracked slowly through the blood, staining the soles, leaving red prints behind. He stopped right in front of you, barely inches away, breathing heavy like he’d run through hell itself.

His eyes roamed over your face—bloodstained lips, crimson smeared down your chin, the violence still fresh—and for a second, it looked like he might drop to his knees.

Instead, he laughed.

A low, broken sound, hollow and ragged. His fingers twitched at his sides.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, the faintest drawl coloring the edges of his words. “You’re somethin’ else.”

You said nothing. Didn’t need to.

He stepped closer, hands grabbing your face—rough, trembling.

“You ain’t got no idea what you’ve done to me,” he breathed, forehead pressing to yours, voice cracking with raw, fevered need. “I watched you. Saw you take him apart. Lord, I ain’t never wanted anything more than I want you right now.”

Blood still dripped from your skin, slick and warm. His thumb brushed your lower lip, smearing the crimson like it was sacred.

“I thought I was losin’ my mind before,” he whispered, grip tightening, “but now? Seein’ you like this?”

He laughed again, sharp and wild.

“I’m done for. I’m gone.”

His mouth hovered near yours—not to kiss, but to breathe you in.

“You don’t even understand what you are,” he hissed. “You think this is guilt? That you’re some kinda monster?”

His eyes traced the blood on your throat like it belonged there. “This here? This is power, darlin’. This is love.”

You didn’t move.

You didn’t flinch.

Something deep inside, long buried and dark, started to believe him.

He leaned down, lips grazing your ear, voice dropping low and rough, the accent thickening like smoke curling in the dark.

“I wanna ruin you,” he said. “Wanna worship you. Watch you tear the whole damn world apart and know you’ll come home to me when you’re done.”

His fingers curled tighter under your jaw. No restraint left in his eyes.

“You don’t get it, do ya?” he whispered. “You just became mine. Again. And this time? This time I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Your breath caught, tears burning behind your eyes. Your voice cracked, trembling as it spilled out, raw and ragged:

“Remmick... I’m sorry. So damn sorry. For everything. For breakin’ you. For runnin’... For not bein’ yours when I should’ve been.”

Your words were soaked in blood and pain, each one heavier than the last.

And the worst part?

You didn’t want him to let you go either.

Remmick’s breath hitched at your words, a flicker of something almost tender flashing through the madness in his eyes. His grip loosened just enough for you to breathe, but not enough to let you go.

“Damn right you’re sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something fierce and possessive. “And hell, maybe that’s all I ever needed to hear.”

He pulled you closer, the heat of him burning through the blood and the cold, every inch of you drawn into the storm of him.

His breath hot on your neck, growls, “You’re mine, and I’m gonna make sure no one ever forgets it.” You know Nates corpse is lying nearby, a grim reminder of the darkness that binds you.

“You’re a fuckin’ mess, ain’t ya?” Remmick’s voice is a low drawl. He pushes you back onto the bed, the warm, sticky wetness of the crimson sheets seeping through your clothes. His body covers yours, his weight pressing you into the hard surface. The mattress groans under your combined weight, but the sounds of the bed are drowned out by your mutual ragged breaths.

His hand tear at your clothes.

You don’t resist. Your body aches with need.

He tosses the shredded remnants aside, his eyes roaming over your naked form, taking in every detail. You’re covered in blood, your skin slick and glistening, your mouth and chin stained with it. He groans, his cock hardening against your thigh.

Nate’s lifeless eyes seem to watch you, but you don’t care. This moment is yours. Yours and Remmick’s.

Remmick’s mouth claims yours in a brutal, hungry kiss. His tongue invades, claiming, possessing. You melt into him, your body molding to his, your senses drowning in his scent, his taste, his touch.

You don’t know when he’s lowered his pants, though somehow in between you could feel him, feel his length.

His hands grip your wrists, pining them above your head. Remmick’s kiss turns ruthless, his teeth scraping against your lips, drawing blood. He licks it away, gowling low in his throat. His body grinds against yours, his cock hard and insistent.

You try to move, but his grip is like a vise, unyielding and dominant. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin.

You feel the rush of blood in your veins, the heat of your arousal, the desperate need for release.

He moves lower, his lips and tongue exploring your breasts, your stomach, his touch driving you wild with need. You arch into him, your body begging for me, your hands straining against his hold.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he says, his voice rough with command, that slight drawl only making it hotter.

His mouth finds your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You shiver, your breath hitching as he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. He soothes the sting with his tongue, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you in place.

His mouth moves higher, his tongue tracing the line of your pussy, his breath hot against your flesh. You moan, your hips lifting off the bed, your body begging for more. He teases you, his tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers spreading your lips wide. You can feel the anticipation building, the pressure in your core, the tightening of your muscles. He brings you to the edge, then pulls back, leaving you panting and frustrated.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.

He smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips, and then he’s moving, his body sliding up yours, his cock pressing against your entrance. He looks down at you, his eyes locked on yours.

You smile back, a slow, seductive curve of your lips, and he groans, his body trembling with restraint. You can see the muscles in his arms and chest straining, like he’s barely holding back.

With a single, brutal thrust, he enters you, filling you and completing you.

You moan, your head falling back, your body arching into his, your senses drowning in the pleasure of his touch. He moves slowly at first, his hips rolling, his cock sliding in and out of you, his body driving you wild with need.

The room is thick with the scent of sex and blood, the air heavy and oppressive. Remmick’s body is slightly slick with sweat, his muscles tense as he hovers over you. “Fuck,” he hisses, his voice laced with a mix of lust and suddenly with anger. He leans down, his breath hot on your ear.

“You think you can just walk away from me? Think you can take what you want and leave me hangin'?"

He thrusts hard, his hips slamming against yours, his cock driving deep into you. You gasp, your body arching off the bed, your nails digging into his back. His voice is rough, his accent dripping with sex and dominance. "You're mine, and I'm gonna remind you of that every fuckin' day."

He pulls back, his cock almost leaving you, before slamming into you again. The bed shakes, the headboard banging against the wall. You moan, the sound raw and primal, your body trembling with the force of his thrusts.

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving bruises. He’s relentless, his body pounding into yours, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. You can feel the pressure building, the heat in your core, the tightening of your muscles.

"You like that?” he growls, his voice a low rumble. "You like it when I fuck you hard? When I remind you who you belong to?"

He leans down, his teeth grazing your neck, his tongue licking the sweat from your skin. You shiver, your body arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"You know I do," you whisper, your voice hoarse with desire. "You know I crave it."

He groans, his body trembling with restraint. "That's right, you do. And I'm gonna give it to you. Every fuckin' day. Every fuckin' night."

He sits up, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wide. He looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every detail. You’re covered in blood and sweat, your skin glistening. He groans, his cock hardening even more, if that's possible. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and hunger. "So fuckin' beautiful. So fuckin' mine."

He leans down, his lips capturing yours in a brutal, hungry kiss. His mouth trails down your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, leaving love bites that will most definitely bloom into bruises. You can feel the rush of blood in your veins, the height of your arousal.

He moves lower, his lips and tongue exploring your breasts, stomach, your hips, his touch driving you wild with need. You wanted more.

His fingers trailed low, his thumb circling your clit, his touch light and teasing. He wants you with need. You moan, your hips lifting off the bed, your body begging for more. He chuckles, a low, dark sound. It was too much for you all of a sudden.

You try sitting up, to ease the intensity, but he pushes you down, his hand pressing against your chest. “Nah sweetgirl, your gonna take me.” He moves his thumb away from your clit, his relentless thrusts increasing.

“You wanna come, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice a low growl. “You wanna come all over my cock. You wanna milk me dry, don't you?” You nod, your body trembling, you could barely make a word out.

He pulls your legs up slightly, his cock hitting depper if that was even possible. You moan, your voice echoing in the room, your body shuddering with the intensity of your release.

He follows soon after, his body tensing, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills his seed, his groan of pleasure a symphony to your ears.

“I love the way you sound,” he says, his body collapsing on top of you. “I fucking love the way you feel. All tight and wet. All for me.”

He cups your jaw, his thumb brushing away Nate's dried blood. “You’re mine,” he states darkly. “And I ain’t ever lettin’ you go. You hear me? Never.”

And you don’t answer—not with words. Your breath shudders against his, your eyes heavy-lidded and glassy, like you’re drowning in him.

He leans in, his lips ghosting over your cheek, your temple, not kissing—claiming. His voice is low, hoarse from want and something deeper.

"You remember that," he whispers, breath hot against your ear. "Every time I touch you tonight… every sound I pull from your throat… every time I make you come apart beneath me—remember."

His hand slides down, leaving a trail of blood and heat in its wake.

"You said sorry," he murmurs, like it’s a vow now. "But you don’t gotta be sorry, darlin’. Not for who you are. Not for what you did."

And he reminds you of that, over and over, well into the night—until the walls know his promises by heart and your body forgets it ever belonged to anyone else.

[chicksmoothie]

• Lovedrunk — mingi

Pairing: bf!mingi x gf!reader

— Mingi and you finally decide to move in together, but truth to be told you didn’t have time for each other more than for the basics. This means you are desperate to spend time just enjoying the other’s company (and fuck, and well, it shows)

! Long fuck fic

! based on Say it like you mean it characters but not mentioning its plot

W/C: ~4.8K

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, madly in love

Warnings: +18, mdni (seriously), cursing (a lot), dirty talking (another lot), teasing, edging, slight possessive behaviour (from both parts), breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, honestly this is a kink compilation, raw sex (you know you shouldn’t), needy mingi & needy reader, both vibing in the same horny kind of tune, pure hornyness, dry humping, a lot of spit, oral (f receiving), making out, multiple orgasms and therefore overstim, squirting, switch dynamics (rather bratty power bottom reader x service top mingi but also kind of switching so idk?), filming, this counts as a warning too cos really madly in love should be a warning, let me know if I forgot something i hope not cos this warnings are longer than the fic already

A/N: at the end

Also: this oneshot is fiction and in no way aims to portrait anyone involved in the story

Taglist: @i01233 @tinie03 @thesupreme316 @esmedelacroix thanks for waiting ♡

His scent was all over the room after taking a shower. His arm still a bit humid and warmer than usual had you hugged close to him under the blanket. And you couldn’t see it well since it was dark in the room, but the red and white highlights flashing from the tv painting his beautiful profile and the screen reflecting on his glasses had you totally distracted.

you were trying so hard to focus on the anime you decided to watch together. You were so, so trying it…

But the way his casual and cozy look caught your breath each time you had the chance to see it since you moved in together had no hopes in changing, ever.

It had been some time since you had had a quality time and chill night together due to hectic schedules at work and all the move in process, so now that the stars aligned and you had the same days off you wanted it to be as actually chill as possible and restricted every single dirty thought about pulling his glasses off and kiss him to start with.

If only his fingers were not playing with yours under the blanket. If only his shampoo wasn’t the same as yours and you didn’t weirdly get off to that because it meant you were actually living together. If only you weren’t so pent up after nearly a week without seeing each other for anything else but eating and sleeping if you were lucky.

If only you didn’t feel your heart skip a beat every time he chuckled when he found something funny happening in the anime that you were totally not watching.

If only you didn’t love him so fucking much.

Mingi turned his face your way while still smiling to check if you found the scene as funny as he did.

And you will never know what he saw on your face at this very moment, but his smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in only one second. “What’s up babychick? You don’t like the series?”

He knew exactly what was up, but he chose to play dumb for a moment. “Yes, yes, i am loving it,” you recovered quickly from your trance ”it is so interesting” and decided to play along. You smiled, lovingly, not showing how sarcastic you were actually being and on the contrary making it sound as genuine as possible.

You turned your face to the screen just in time to catch a smirk slowly growing on his face. He wanted to play? This you could do it. No problem at all.

—

The voices coming from the tv were white noise and ambient sound at this point. You had been silent since your little conversation earlier, but no words were needed when both of you were anticipating what was going to happen. You knew each other already, so you could tell that Mingi was getting impatient by how he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His tease was backfiring completely and all he could think about was him eating you out, but he didn’t want to lose just yet.

It all started to get complicated for him with you pulling up slightly at the hem of his shirt and placing your hand on his lower stomach pretending you were looking for some kind of warmth, your hand was cold you said. Sneaky girl… and eventho his breath hitched for one millisecond he continued with your little edging game.

He put his hand over yours, saying that by doing so it would warm up quicker. And it could have been an innocent gesture if only he wasn’t tracing random forms and decorating your fingers in suggestive caresses. Fucking tease… Good thing someone died in the anime in this exact moment, that way your little pout could pass as unbothered.

But you were bothered. Both of you were since long ago. All the second intentions behind the caresses, all the low whimpers you could hear from one another at every single touch and trying to contain yourselves from just lose it all and finally fuck were agonizing at this point.

You knowing he was already half hard and that your hand was dangerously close to his crotch but intentionally not daring to touch him wasn’t easy.

Him knowing you were probably already soaking through the grey leggins you used as a pijamas and he had done nothing but sit beside you and hug you yet was even less easy. How bad would it be when he got started…

You realizing the hands you originally had interlaced under the blanket were now somehow resting on your tit made you sigh.

Him realizing that your nipple was perking out and begging to be pinched, squeezed, bitten, sucked and anything possible was almost unbearable.

You and him panting quietly, suffocating in the tension that you both had slowly been creating by doing nothing but know that you wanted each other very, very badly.

You were also getting impatient, so you decided to push his buttons further and you knew exactly how. Without saying a word, you broke your cozy (yet hot) hug to slowly get up the sofa. “Where are you going?” His voice was husky and a little pouty because of your sudden distance. “I am sleepy, I think I am going to be-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you down, placing you on his lap right over his hard bulge. Both of you moaned at the contact. God he was harder than you thought he would be. This rilling up game was going to be one of your favorites… “stop with the teasing, you win” you smiled in victory “i always win” well, he had to agree on that.

As soon as you leaned in to take his glasses off and give him the long awaited kiss both of you were a panting mess already. The kiss was slow and nasty, drinking in each other as if you had been wandering in a desert for ages and just found a fountain.

His hands were gripping your hips hard, knuckles white and head empty, bucking up every time you grinded your pussy along his dick through your clothes. The friction so good you could cum from just that after all the built up tension, your fingers tangled in his shirt and pulled to bring him even closer. You had the feeling that he had been too far from you for too long, otherwise you wouldn’t be this extremely horny, so needy for his touch and his skin on yours already.

“I need this out of the way” you pulled his shirt off slowly, taking your time on the motion, then yours went after, both ending rumbled on the floor.

You had to take a second to admire his topless figure under you, the dim light of the tv outlining his strong figure, and you looked at him with real adoration written in your eyes “my hand is cold again…” you bit your lip shyly, putting your hand back on his lower tummy as you had done earlier, but this time you traced the pattern of his slightly defined torso up to his chest, both hands meeting at his back and feeling his wide shoulders with featherlike touches.

“You are gonna be the end of me babe, you doing this on purpose?” his head rested on the back of the sofa, eyes lidded, tensing under your light touch and waiting impatiently for you to snap and continue what had already started.

You looked at him with such a fake surprised expression, “what do you mean? I am only admiring my pretty boyfriend” and you knew what you calling him pretty would do to him.

“I thought the game ended” he growled, eyes now on the roof and his adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing a moan at the praise “yes, and I won, so I am going to savor my price” you leaned back and took his chin to make him look at you “see how I am already? You made me wet through my pijamas, anything to say about that??”

He looked down where your leggins were indeed as soaked as he had imagined, the dark patch too close to his cock for his brain to not malfunction. “I am going to fuck you so good babychick you wont be going out of bed in three working days” that you didn’t see it coming. He was never so aggressive from the beginning, but he was in such a horny state his hands were already shaking in your hips.

“Please let me eat you out” you moaned at his begging “its all I can think about” he closed his eyes and sighed just at the thought of your dripping cunt smearing his face and your sweet flavor filling his mouth. “You are so needy…” you said and he nodded slowly and deadly serious “only for you”.

One of his hands run up to your back, the other one still gripping your hip tightly. Your boy was so strong and so big it took him zero effort to stand up carrying you on top of him. “You wanted to go to bed yeah?” You grinned “I knew you would get the hint at some point”

He had been between your legs for two orgasms already. His face a dripping mess and his thumb circling your clit slowly compared to the quick pace his tongue had set on you. Slurping, moaning in your cunt, drawing random patterns in your inner thighs with his free hand to feel your soft skin somehow. He was fucking the mattress to get some kind of friction for himself although he could cum untouched by just the sound of your moans and the way you pushed his head impossibly close to you.

The overstimulation of cumming twice with just his mouth was torture but you couldn’t think about pushing him away, that would be worse. “My girl likes to go wild with overstim?” He slurped up a drop of your cum, pulling out his tongue to show you your own creamy arousal “you think you are stretched out for me already my love?”

You couldn’t take this any longer, having him inside was your top priority in this moment so you grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up as he moaned in pleasure due to the sudden pain while you cried “mingi, pants off” you were already naked, but he had still these black home sweatpants that normally drove you crazy but in this moment drove you mad.

He obliged and pulled them down, revealing that he had no boxers on and letting his dripping cock spring out, red, all veins on display and you swore to god you had never seen him this hard in all the time you had been together.

You were already salivating… the stretch of his cock was always good, but this time.. oh my god you couldn’t imagine it, you had to have it.

Wide open on your bed, waiting for him to put the condom on and his dick to finally fill you up, anticipating that stretch you were aching for with little whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

And he knew it.

He was sliding his tip along your entrance, covering the condom in your slick and his own spit after his make out session with your pussy. “mingi, fuck off…” you were desperate for him “baby I really want to slam in, but I have to put it in slowly” this was half true given his size and half him getting revenge for his loss, but you were not having it.

You were always the winner for a reason: whatever he did you took it further.

You rose your hips and pushed against the tip. finally, finally opening yourself for him inch by inch. You couldn’t see it because you had closed your eyes at the feeling, but he kept them wide open in a completely fucked out expression, savoring the sight of your relaxed face for having him inside you at good fucking last.

Mingi tried, but he couldn’t keep your slow pace until the end and bottomed out in one go, gasping and falling over you, completely worn out already. “god, fuck, mingi” After a few seconds of both of you adjusting to the feeling he started moving, his body still flush against yours, he didn’t bear thinking about being the slightest bit apart from you and not feel you tense, squirm and tremble underneath him. Your sweat making it easier for you to meet his movements as if you were water.

“God…Your pussy hugs me so good baby, I love it. My fucking girl… you are mine, yeah? Answer me baby please…” and he sounded as he really needed you to give a response to that question, eyes shut and forehead pressed against yours. “Mingi…” you cupped his face with both your hands to kiss him “i am yours” you whispered between his lips and dragged your fingers to his hair to pull slightly.

His beautiful reaction every time you did so made you clench around him, making him open his eyes in shock at the sudden tightness and turning his growls even deeper.

He pretended he wasn’t, but he was so needy and so clingy. So lovedrunk for you that you saying that you belonged to him had him already close to cumming.

“There is no other one for you either” you looked at him in the eyes through your lashes, pulling off your best sultry face, “you are mine too, say it” he was shuddering, loving the way you demanded his response, bossing him around from underneath him as if the one being fucked to the brim wasn’t you.

You had him so in the palm of your hand he wouldn’t mind you closing it and crush him, how could he answer anything else than that? “I am yours baby… fuck…” and that made you giggle.

“Thanks” you pecked his lips, hugging him around his neck, legs around his waist pushing him deeper and earning a low moan from him, “baby I really won’t last today”, and it was a given since you had been fucking each other really since the moment you sat on the sofa this afternoon, “so take it easy on me and behave yeah?” he was fucking you slow, the way he knew you liked it. The way he could fill you completely and leave no single untouched spot inside you. But also the only way he would be able to keep going for a while.

And just because you were dying to see him lose his mind completely were you determined to do everything you knew he loved at the same time. Pressing kisses all over his neck till you reached his earlobe and bit it, “I am behaving right? I am being so good today, what you gonna give me, hm?”

He was panting heavily, eyes shut, both his hands at each side of your head, the vision so good and his dick so deep you nearly started crying at the unbearable thrill.

But you decided to slowly move your arms down from his neck to interlace one of his hands with your own instead. Your other hand landed on your lips, tongue full of spit ready to coat your fingers in your saliva and leaving a string behind once you finished with the task, never breaking the eye contact.

Mingi couldn’t win against you being a dirty brat, but he had even less chances of winning against your hand going down where your bodies met to push one of your soaked fingers inside your cunt, stretching you even more but making it even tighter for him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes were silently asking you if you were being fucking for real right now. And oh my god you were, so fucking for real that you started moving your finger slowly inside you and rubbing his dick on your way, moaning loud and grabbing his hand tightly, needing to hold onto something for how good it was feeling for you too.

“Fuuuuuuuuck….” Fuck it, he really didn’t stand a chance from the beginning “I am gonna cum, where do you want it? Tell me babe I won’t last much more” he knew that you loved to feel his cum all over you and you were already trembling, so close yourself.

You couldn’t imagine him pulling out from you right now nor for too long, this past weeks without any intimate contact at all were working hard on you so you didn’t have to think it twice “mingi please… cum inside”

He could never have figured you would say that, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thought about how to answer.

“Raw baby?” He finally asked with a cry, just to make sure he was understanding it right “please…” your affirmation whisper froze him and made him almost nut on the spot.

He slowly carried on with the roll of his hips, struggling with the pace while the only thing on his mind was to piston fuck you into the bed after what you had asked him to do “you can’t say shit like that”. He was struggling, gritting his teeth and he really wanted to obey but you would regret this tomorrow, this had been said in the heat of the moment, or at least this is what he was telling himself in order not to breed you full.

But you blinked, you fucking innocently blinked pretending to be surprised, knowing how bad he wanted it and quickly slid your sticky hand out of your cunt and between your bodies to push him off and pull him out “but I can tho”.

In one swift motion and in a record time you took the condom off, tossed it somewhere on the floor and aligned his pulsing cock inside you again, painfully slowly sinking him in as you watched his face contort in pure ecstasy by the contact of your wet walls around him for the first time in months using protection.

Nothing could describe the way he felt about having you split open and raw underneath him, completely his to take. You put your arms around his neck, dragging him down to look him in the eyes again as you always liked to watch him when he reached his climax “now you can cum baby” your voice was merely a whisper, small but commanding “i will look so good with your cum dripping out later”.

And that was it. Something animalistic took over him and he started to move rougher, faster and more desperate than he ever had .

“Yeah?? You want to be full of my cum that bad??” His voice deep in the crook of your neck sending shivers through your whole body. Shit, you wanted to see his face!! but you were feeling so good at the way he thrusted into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit each time he went back inside, that you couldn’t be arsed complaining about it.

“Not enough with having me ballsdeep inside you that you also want to keep me there after I pull out??” He was testing the waters, trying to find out if he could say what he actually wanted to. But your loud moan at his words told him that he could carry on and so he did.

“You want me here?” you were far gone, dripping from your pussy to the bed and your skin burning, goosebumps all over and making the prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Never knew this would thrill him so much, but as his hand reached your belly, pressing down slightly and feeling himself moving in and out of you over your skin and going back to kiss you desperately he understood that no other raw pussy was ever gonna have him “you want me to get you pregnant tonight or what?”

Finally. He met your eyes just in time to see them roll back and flutter shut, your cry immediate “yes yes yes yes” you were begging, your cunt squeezing and sucking his cock in so hard it was getting difficult for him to slide out, seeing white ass stars as you came around him repeating his name since it was the only word you could remember.

The noises of your wet bodies crashing every time he thrusted inside you filling his ears and the warmth of your cum soaking his pelvis felt too good, “you drive me fucking insane” he growled and was now letting go, feeling you milk him dry and trembling in a pleasure he was sure he was going to get addicted to.

Cumming raw and inside after holding it in for so long only for you, he really wanted to see how your tummy grew big. “mingi…” he covered his nervous smile with your lips, still panting over your worn out body, never pulling out even after both of you came down from the shared orgasm.

Wait, “you are still hard??” you couldn’t believe it “give me another one babes, i know you can” there was nothing else in this world that had him in more bliss than your whole body response when you were cumming and he knew that nothing could ever compare to the way your walls hugged him perfectly, massaging his cock in ways nothing could do. He needed to feel it some more “you are having my kids no? we need to fill this up”. His words were going to turn you into burning ashes.

He started to move slowly again, the painful overstimulation not being enough to make him stop “but mingi I don’t think I can cum anymore” your eyebrows were beautifully frown and a tear was about to roll down your cheek when he suddenly flipped you over, you being still flush against his body but now on top of him. He fucking knew you loved being on top, completely able to adjust to his length and set your own pace. Watching him from above was one of your most personal moments.

You looked at him in disbelief, he was seriously going to play this game with you??? You straighten up, watching him dangerously challenging but still catching your breath. As soon as you leaned back and rolled your hips your thoughts about not being able to cum were already gone, his dick filling you up so good you couldn’t believe you ever said that.

You put one hand over his leg to balance yourself while grinding over his dick nice and slow “actually maybe I can…?” your other one gently reaching your belly and caressing it in a wide circle, your own touch giving you goosebumps, the gesture making him flinch at the thought of his cum inside you right where you were touching yourself, yours and his imagination going fucking wild.

He closed his eyes to savor each sensation you could pull out of him, hands running up your legs and landing on your hips to help you grind. But he really wanted to see you, so when he opened his eyes again you were still watching him, all the love you felt for him showing on your face and basically dancing on his lap, little moans escaping your mouth. His eyes on you were so raw and sincere it had you melting, a hot drop of your slick running down your boyfriends lap. How the fuck were you this lucky you didn’t know.

He was biting his bottom lip, all his feelings over the place. he loved you so much. And knowing you felt the same for him sometimes blew his mind “how am i so lucky?” you smiled at his words matching your exact thoughts, “look at me mingi, am I not lucky too?” he indeed looked at you, from your pretty face to your pretty hole sucking his cock, a husky moan leaving him.

He brought his hand to your pussy and split your lips open to watch how his cock disappeared inside you “fucking god…” he nearly came again at the sight of his release forming a ring around his base “I wish I could see this forever” and he could tell when you had a bright idea pop into your clever head, like right now.

You stopped for a second to reach out for your phone, your change of position making him pant and trying to hold you still. You popped the camera app on your screen and pressed record then offered it to him. Seriously, how was he so lucky? He was too horny to argue or question you so…

His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching you go back to moving gently on his dick but quickening your pace until you were sliding him out and bucking back in, jumping and moaning nonsenses. His dick felt so right inside you, so where it belonged to that you stopped thinking what you were saying, completely lovedrunk yourself.

“I love this dick” he groaned and struggled to keep the recording and it took everything in him to not throw the phone away and keep looking through the screen, “no one else is ever cumming inside me, I am all yours” you cried and threw your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as you sensed his free hand grip your hip tighter and buck up to meet your movements.

The hand where he was holding the phone completely trembling, the dirty feeling of this happening to him but also watching you getting fucked through anything that wasn’t his own eyes made it look like something nasty. And hell was he getting off to that shit, “mingi I am gonna…” “yeah, yeah please cum babychick, I am following”

Mingi had this rare gifted talent of making you cum as soon as he commanded, and so you did. The scream was loud from both parts, your pussy tightening harder than it ever had around him, not wanting him to ever leave that place “I am cumming inside again baby is that okay?” you couldn’t even manage to answer, your orgasm so hard it was taking forever for it to go down, so you only nodded fervently as a yes.

All the edging and the overstimulation from earlier skyrocketing your sensitivity. It wasn’t easy for it to happen to you but it did this time and it was recorded forever for commemorative purposes; your pussy started to spray over everything reachable around you, all his torso drenched in your squirt, the camera lens soaked and the image blurry.

Fuck it, you didn’t need to save anything else. Mingi stopped the recording and tossed the phone somewhere over the bed, sat up straight to hug you while you were still crying out his name and started to thrust harsher from bellow.

You hugged him back, curling your legs around his waist to keep him as close as you could and started to kiss him desperately, no rhythm no attention, waiting for this rollercoaster climax to end. His movements were already unsteady due to his own incoming orgasm, calling your name and saying sweet praises into your mouth as the string finally snapped and he finished inside again, making your insides warm with his hot cum.

Once he calmed down he fell on his back over the bed, hugging you still over on top of him, totally worn out and suddenly cold after what you thought had been the best orgasm you’d had.

“shit” you sighed “it is so cold” mingi smiled, completely satisfied, “let me get a towel, I will clean this mess up” he reached down to get a sample of the said mess in his finger. You couldn’t help it and licked it without thinking, “baby… don’t go there again” he was being half serious, but his still inside cock twitched weakly. You laughed at him, “baby go get that towel, I am seriously cold”.

He slid out of you, leaving you to get the promised towel, both relieved and sad at the sudden emptiness in your cunt. But… wait, it is not that empty? Your cheeks burned beet red, remembering how you had been begging him to get you pregnant. How many kinks were you gonna collect with this guy?! Your hand moved by its own, trying to find its way to your slit.

As soon as you felt it in your fingers you couldn’t stop yourself, you were putting all the cum that dripped out back in, moaning quietly at the single thought of your belly full of him again.

“need any help with that?” you looked towards the door, he was leaning against its frame, towel in hand, his smile showing his front teeth that you loved so much. You had to smile back, “yeah?”

—

A/N: Hellooo haha this took me a while.

I know it was meant to be the continuation for Say it like you mean it, but it has been so long already (two whole years to be exact) that I found no joy in these characters anymore. And as much as I tried to start them over again (seriously I had like 9 drafts about them) it always ended up being just not too good. I really wanted to give them a hot and steamy (and really long wtf) chance with this one. I think my writing got better too (not posting at all but still writing), even if english is not my mother language and therefore I am a bit limited!

I would like to improve some more for the next one, which will also be set on mingi & the chick since i am biased and i kinda got attached to some of the topics I was writing about in Say it like you mean it. So for now we have this one, but possibly the next one will fiiiiinally be SILYMI part.2? When? Who knows, no one when it comes to me i am afraid.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome ♡

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

BLOODTHIRSTY

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: mature | WORD COUNT: 990

SUMMARY

when your next shipment of blood won’t be delivered to the x mansion for another two days, logan offers to help keep you fed.

part two, animal instinct

WARNINGS/TAGS

typical vampire themes (blood, biting), no use of y/n, reader being picked up, grinding, kissing

LINKS

masterlists | support for palestine

You're pacing the length of the kitchen, filled with anxious energy. There's a pit in your stomach, a gnawing pain that's keeping you awake and lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling wasn't helping.

You hear footsteps in the hall and pause, watching as the thick wooden door opens and Logan steps into the kitchen, flicking the light switch and bathing the room in brightness that hurts your eyes. He raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

"Can't sleep either?" he asks, sauntering further into the room. He's fully dressed, a tight white t-shirt stretching across his defined chest and biceps and a pair of jeans hugging his legs, covering boots that click against the tile with each step. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his neck, to the thin skin that covers his fluttering pulse, but you look away quickly in shame.

"Too hungry," you reply. He looks around the room.

"Well, you're in the right place for eating. There's plenty of food."

"Not the kind I need."

He tilts his head, assessing you. "You some kind of vampire or something?"

"Or something," you reply, dancing around the truth. You're not sure what you are, not exactly, but Charles has helped you unlock enough information to get by. "Anyway, Charles said the next shipment should be here in a couple days. I just have to make it until then."

"I could help you out," Logan suggests. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Absolutely not," you snap. You move to leave, walking past him, but he wraps a hand around your arm to stop you.

"Why not? You can't kill me. You won't even leave a mark."

"You don't know what you're offering, Logan."

"I got a pretty good idea," he says with a huff of laughter. "You're a predator. I know what it's like to suppress that side of yourself."

You don't know much about Logan. He hasn't been at the X Mansion for very long, but he's made quite the impression among the staff. You can see why -- he's charming, handsome, rough around the edges. You know of his abilities but you don't know him, not really, and the fact that he's offering himself for your hunger is planting nasty seeds of suspicion in your brain.

"I can't," you whisper. He steps closer.

"Why not? Afraid you'll get addicted, sweetheart?"

He's goading you, tempting you. Your gums ache with the need to bite, to feed, to fill yourself full and find sweet relief from the pain of hunger. He pulls you closer and your treacherous body obeys, ignoring the warnings from your logical brain.

"Come on," he says. "You'll feel better."

It's been a long time since you've fed from a living person, having grown so used to the donor blood Charles is able to obtain for you through various channels, but the muscle memory is there.

You're chest to chest with Logan now, pressed so tightly to him that you can feel his heart pounding against you, can hear the rush of blood in his veins. He smells like the woods and smoke, an earthy combination that makes you a little lightheaded. He wraps an arm around your waist.

"You want it?" he asks. You nod. "Do it, then. I've got you."

You're helpless to it now, nothing in your mind except survival instinct demanding to be fulfilled. The prick of pain as your mouth grows crowded with longer, sharper teeth meant to tear and ravage and maim. You lean into him, running your lips against warm skin and relishing in the sharp breath he takes at the contact.

Like any predator, you give no warning, sinking your teeth into his flesh. Blood rushes over your tongue, warm and lush, invading your senses. His heavy palm settles on the back of your neck, cradling you to him, and the intimacy of it pulls a moan from deep in your chest.

"Fuck," Logan growls, his other hand tight on your hip. You lift your head to ask if he's okay, but the words are lost when he bends his knees and grabs the back of your thighs with both hands, urging you up. He settles you on the counter, fitting himself between your spread legs.

"Again," he demands, eyes wild and teeth bared in a snarl. You switch to the other side of his neck, biting down hard. He moans, loud and deep, hips flexing into yours. You can feel the hard length of his cock through his jeans and the friction against your core makes you whine and writhe against him.

You drag yourself away from him, licking your lips. His pupils are blown wide, the black of them nearly engulfing the gorgeous hazel of his irises. His gaze drops to your lips and he leans in, kissing you like a hungry animal, trying to devour you in turn.

He pulls away from you, begins to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck. You grow tense, the sudden realization that Logan's favor has devolved into something more hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You push him away by the shoulder and he stares at you with a furrowed brow, confusion coloring his features. His chest heaves with breath and his mouth is stained red, lips kiss bitten and slick. The wounds you would have left behind have already closed, leaving no trace of you on his skin. You swallow around the lump in your throat.

"Thank you, Logan," you whisper. You ease yourself down from the counter, the man stepping back slightly to give you space. "Goodnight."

He clears his throat. "Right. Hope you can sleep now."

"I hope you can, too."

You leave the kitchen, the weight of his stare on your back not lifting until you're in the hall and can take a deep breath. When you return to your room, you still can't sleep.

But it's no longer because of hunger.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting, I’d love to hear from you 💕

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

All masterlists

Logan Howlett masterlist

[tender-rosiey]

hiii 😭 I REALLY LOVE UR GOJO X YN SO MUCHHH 😔😔 I was also wondering like maybe what if y/n has a wound, like any where 🥲 it could be either on her back, arms, legs but she doesn't wanna tell gojo abt it and she hides it, then he will find out about it either she winces when gojo hugs her, starts wearing long sleeved clothes or her shirt lifts up while sleeping 🤧 TYSMM❤❤

strain — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am honored that you like my works, love! hope you enjoy this as well 🫶💕🫶 also happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend: gojo satoru!! (it’s still his birthday in my country so hush I am not late)

you are more than a capable sorcerer. in fact, you are one of the strongest in the field.

however, like anyone else, there are some moments where things get a little out of hand, and you come back bearing a rather long slash on your left arm.

but since it’s pretty late, you decided you will bother shoko about it in the morning. that is how you’re finally in your home, with satoru nowhere to be found.

you frown lightly at the fact that he is still out there fighting curses, but a part of you feels relieved that you don’t have to explain your situation right now.

the night should pass by smoothly, and you will go to shoko tomorrow: a fool-proof plan!

so you do what you can to sanitize the wound, and cover it until you can get it treated properly. you also take the chance to indulge in your favorite snack as a good job treat.

after finishing your food and tidying up for the day, you’re finally in bed, all-cozied up and avoiding anything touching your wound as much as possible.

a deep breathe in, a deep breathe out, and you slowly drift to sleep.

not much time passes before satoru’s familiar footsteps echo throughout the house.

your husband has an abundance of energy.

but it seemed like today’s missions have drained him a bit more than normal, so he skips eating anything and heads straight to your shared bedroom.

his heart softens, and his muscles relax upon the sight of you tucked in bed. he walks to press a small kiss on your forehead, quickly changing into his pajamas and settling right by your side.

he stretches a bit and turns to spoon you as per usual, eyes closing in contentment.

but you wince, even if adeptly, and it sends alarms ringing through his head.

he jerks up, and his hand is instantly placed on your arm again, softly. there is an ever so faint change in your expression as your eyebrows furrow, and he has never pulled his hand away so fast.

he keeps debating in his head whether to wake you up or not, but he swiftly settles for the former.

he needs to know what happened. so he, regrettably, nudges your sleepy form, “y/n?”

you groan, but, nonetheless, you reply, “…what?”

while satoru often likes to base theatrics around his every move and phrase, but he also knows when to get straight to the point, “did you get hurt on today’s mission?”

you’re no longer half-asleep, and you quickly sit up, eyeing your husband. knowing there is no escape nor denial, you fidget with your fingers and nod slowly.

then you hurriedly utter, “but I was going to see shoko first thing in the morning; I promise!”

he nods slowly, holding your hands in his own. you’re left to look him in the eyes. satoru’s eyes being exposed makes him feel so vulnerable, or at least that’s how he is with you.

you can see every wrinkle, and every crease; you can see what he is thinking about in real time. he has long given up hiding anything from you, and, besides, it feels fresh to just let go.

but right now, as you look into his eyes, you see them swarming with confliction, pain, and worry.

he doesn’t scold you about not going right now because he knows that you will tell him that you either thought it wasn’t a big deal or that you didn’t want to bother shoko with it.

instead, he settles on a hushed whisper of “can I see it?”

you throw him a confused look, “why? I am getting it treated tomorrow anyway,” then you smile, “it’s not going to permanent if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that; I just—“ he takes a deep breath then looks at you pleadingly, “just let me see it.”

perhaps it’s to silence his thoughts and to show him that you’re truly okay, as okay as you can be.

you’re still alive, and that’s what matters, he thinks. nevertheless, he feels the need to see just how serious is the wound anyway.

reluctantly, you slowly take off your jacket to reveal the poorly bandaged gash on your arm.

he looks up at you, asking for permission because even if he needs to see it for his own selfish reasons, he has to put you above anything and everything else.

you nod, giving the free reign to slowly take off the bandages. you can barely hold back any pained noises, but you can’t help the wincing of your body.

satoru’s frown deepens, and with every move, your husband’s heart aches. it goes like that until the wound is finally unveiled.

you feel satoru observing the cut so intently that you look away. satoru curses everything that he can think of, and never has we wanted the ability to heal others more than right now.

he straightens his back, “that’s a deep cut, y’know.”

“I know…”

“you also realize that the wound could’ve hit your chest and inevitably heart, right?”

you huff, “listen, if you’re going to give me a lecture or keep making me feel bad about it then I will have you know—“

“you could’ve died.”

you notice the strain in his voice, so you turn to finally look eyes with him. he looks pained, so hurt, maybe even terrified at the fact that there was a chance that he could’ve lost you.

your expression immediately becomes that of sympathy, “but I didn’t, and dwelling on the fact that I might’ve died will only bother you for no reason,” you hold his hand, “I am here and alive, aren’t I?”

your husband sighs, resting his head on your right shoulder, “you’re hurting my poor little heart whenever you put yourself in danger like that.”

a giggle escapes your lips, and your hands naturally find their way in his hair, fingers gently carding through, “whatever shall we do.”

“if things went my way then you would just stay home looking all pretty like you always do,” he states, and you roll your eyes.

“well, they’re going my way tonight, so—“ the clock strikes twelve, “happy birthday, silly boy.”

his eyes widen and he pulls away to look you in the face. he blinks dumbly then looks at what’s in your hands: a cupcake with a candle.

a wide grin of unbridled joy appears on your husband’s face. his eyes shimmer in the moonlight as he laughs, “I really didn’t expect it this time!”

“you outdid yourself, pretty girl,” he hums, hand caressing your cheek.

“I still have a lot more things for you,” you beam with pride. satoru can’t contain himself anymore, and he pulls you into a loving embrace.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

you pat his back, “I love you too, ‘toru,” you laugh, “but you’re pressing on my wound, and I think I am just going to cry and not because of overwhelming love.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[fontainexpert]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 — 𝙠𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙖𝙚-𝙝𝙤/𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧 388

ᓚᘏᗢ  kang dae-ho / player 388 x 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

ᓚᘏᗢ  where when lights go out in the second day, you and Dae-ho can no longer resist each other.

tags; handjob, cum eating, blowjob, not much dialogue. 2.8K

HELLO; this small smut was removed from my complete fanfiction on wattpad. The fanfic it’s called ‘CARNAL’ by the username of fontainexpert, feel free to read the complete story :)

ENGLISH is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes!

“Too hot.” 

You turned your head to the right, seeing Dae-ho leaving his space under the bunk bed, struggling as much as he did when he first went under the bed, as per Gi-hun’s requests. He got up, and apologized for startling you as he went and stepped in your bed laying right on his other side, getting up and removing his jacket. Neither of you could sleep, both still whispering to one another, but deciding to share the comfortable silence pairing between yourselves.

The scene of him standing in front of you, removing his jacket in such a haste made you stare at him up and down, admiring his body even if covered by the clothes. Supporting your weight by your forearm, throat going dry, lips feeling the need to be wet, allowing yourself to feel attracted and lust to the man.

Said man, as soon as he removed his jacket and allowed himself to breathe in relief, looked at you in front of him, watching the details on your face, as you looked up at him. For some reason, the same impure thoughts came back fiercely, your position on the ground not helping him at all. Dae-ho gulped, feeling his breath grow heavier by the second, remembering the burning hot feeling inside his stomach earlier, when he kept looking at your lips, almost caving in.

However, movement on the other side caught both your attention, seeing Junhee get up from her mattress, and clumsy walk to the front, speaking slowly to Gi-hun about needing to go to the bathroom, having Mr. Jang join her too.

You and Dae-ho looked at each other once again, resuming eye contact as soon as the pregnant woman left. He gulped and coughed a little, giving a small nod and crouching again to enter his bed under the bunk.

Before he could even try to enter, you stopped him. Heart pounding, you breathed and slowly stopped him from entering the small space again, blocking it with your feet. In response, he paused, looking at the feet in front of him, and then trailing his eyes up the legs, meeting your eyes.

Biting your lip, you moved the leg away, seeing him paying attention to each movement your leg did. Getting up from the bed, you got up on your knees and stood right in front of him, faces closer than before when playing Gong-gi together.

“Can I?” You mouthed, partially afraid of even breathing too loudly and having people know what you were doing, or about to do.

Dae-ho did not respond, instead, just fiercely closed his mouth on yours..

He grabbed you by the back of your neck, closing his eyes and connecting the mouths together as soon as you finished mouthing your question. A kiss so passionate and deep that made you want to moan out loud from the pleasure you were feeling by having his tongue fuck your mouth, pratically.

Melting into him, you interlock your fingers in his hair and pull a few strands, enjoying how his other hand travelled down to your waist, squeezing as tight. Dae-ho pulled your head back by the hair and started to assault your neck, sucking and licking the skin, biting occasionally too. Your mouth was open in a silent moan, eyes going to the back of your head in pleasure for the attention your neck received.

A shiver would run through your spine each time you felt his tongue trace each suck he would give under your ear; a tremble in your entire body each time he would calmly bite into the skin. Feeling his hand go under your shirt and caress the skin of your back; in response, bringing your own hand that previously was in his hair and grabbing his own hand, lowering it. 

Dae-ho immediately squeezed your ass with gusto, bringing you closer to him as he went back to kiss you on the lips.

He found it a good coincidence, how previously he was having such an impure thought about wanting to devour your lips, bite into the skin and have his tongue deep inside your throat, that now that he was experiencing it, he felt his cock twitch in want, making the confinement inside his boxers uncomfortable.

“You..” He whispered, almost inaudible from how low it sounded. 

You bit his lip, pulling the flesh and making eye contact with him, releasing it and watching as his eyes became sharper and more dazed as he looked at you. Both had one thing in common; how rosy and hot your cheeks were.

You turned the positions, bringing your lips back against his and grabbing him by the face. Slowly but surely, working silently, you pushed him on the bed, going on top of him, sitting right on his cock through each of your clothes. Dae-ho copied your position from before and supported his weight with his forearms, his right hand going from your waist to your ass.

One slow movement from your hips against the hard, big length you were sitting on, and the man was gone.

Dae-ho broke the kiss and opened his mouth in a moan that never was heard. Each movement from the hips on top of the tip of his cock, made him cuss inside his head, cursing that they weren’t alone to act and moan freely.

You positioned your clit strategically, sliding through his length, trembling in pleasure, feeling from the palm of your hands how he was also shaking from pleasure, pussy teasing him from the layers of clothing, hating to not be able to actually touch it. Doing a few movements of back and forth against his cock, you gasped quietly and closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling his hands squeeze your ass tighter, himself forcing your movements to be stronger.

Separating from the kiss, you supported your right hand on the back of his neck, looking down. Both his hands were on your waist as you moved back and forth against his length, and you could actually cry from how good it was to feel a relief on your clit. He traveled his eyes to your clothed pussy against his cock, and to your face, watching as your eyes were closed in ecstasy, mouth opening occasionally when feeling too good, and going back to bite your own lips to stop from emitting any type of noise.

Dae-ho clenched his jaw, frustrated and extremely horny, wanting nothing more than to pound your pussy until next weekend.

“Gi-hun, I’m up.” 

The frantic movements stopped, partially stunned by the fact that you both could be caught at any minute. In unison, the both of you turned your heads and watched from a bed ahead how Jung-bae rolled from his spot under the bed, and yawned. You both took the chance to detangle yourselves from each other’s position, and rapidly go back to your respective spots.

Dae-ho quickly and silently laid down on his own bed, and you went back on your own, laying down on the mattress, right beside the man you were, a few seconds ago, sliding your clothed pussy on his entire length.

With battered breaths, they listened to how Jung-bae went to stand by Gi-hun, and started to chat.

You huffed quietly, upset by the fact that you were cockblocked, and maybe if you were alone, you would have continued with your escapades, however knowing that you were not able to cum alone with only your own fingers, you doubted the man beside you would take the risk.

Controlling your breath, you turned your head to look at him, and saw him already staring back.

You breathed and smiled bashfully, being able to mumble a small “sorry”, hearing both men ahead of them talking in a volume that would certainly cover her own. 

He nodded. And the next second grabbed you by the arm, bringing you to share his bed under the bunk bed structure, relishing in your surprised gasp, but swallowing it the next second with his mouth.

To say that you were delighted with his move, would be an understatement. You wanted to continue kissing him even if it was risky. With a satisfied smile against his mouth, you swallowed his heavy breath as soon as your hand traveled down his stomach, grasping his cock through his pants.

Dae-ho closed his eyes as he felt your fingers slide inside his pants and boxers, feeling you close your hand around his pulsing cock. You felt the hot flesh warm the palm of your hand and licked your lips, realizing how you could barely, only barely, close your hand on his length. The man raised his hips and helped you to lower his clothes till his knees, in response, you whispered a “good boy” and ran your tongue in his neck.

Looking down, you see his cock on your hand. Heavy, pretty, thick. Watching as a drip of precum falls into his lower abdomen, the head touching it and making a small puddle you oh so wanted to lick and swallow. You have to bite your own lip, pussy growing wet and clenching around nothing, almost sobbing from the lack of attention, growing a painful feeling of need on her lower part.

Slowly making movements up and down, you watched with rapid attention as the foreskin on his cock would bundle up around his tip, and more precum would drip from his tip, trailing down your fingers and falling his length until his lower abdomen and balls. 

Dae-ho licks his lips, eyes hooded and breath heavy, mouth opening in silent moans and gasps, his control almost slipping from his own hands, wishing he could throw his worries in the air and simply get up, walk to any bathroom, and fuck your pussy untill you squirts all over him.

Alas, he was too shy to actually do so. So he would enjoy this as much as he could, which was too good.

He can taste a bit of blood on his own mouth after biting for so long to not emit any type of sound, but still, each time either Gi-hun or Jung-bae would speak even if a little louder than usual, he would allow himself to whimper exactly in your ear, enjoying how each time he did, you would squeeze his cock a little more, movements going up and down a little faster.

You press your thumb on his tip, biting your lip as the man under you bucks his hips up, tightly squeezing the mattress as a way to ground himself. His hair that once was in the familiar man-bun was now all spread in the pillow, giving a sinful yet cute image of his long locks free, yet his skin shining with sweat and hair sticking to his face.

His mouth opened against your but you immediately stroked with your tongue, slowly on his lip and entering his wet mouth, feeling him sink in the mattress underneath the both of you, his cock twitching nonstop. Momentarily abandoning his cock, you started fondling with his balls, smirking with pleasure as you saw his eyes roll to the back of his head, mouth gaping.

Dae-ho’s hips continued bulking up in pleasure, trashing slightly against your touch. When you heard the other two men talk a little loud again, you took your chance to whisper in his ear.

“Fuck my hand like you wish you were fucking my pussy.” And kissed the back of his ear.

He trembled, his thigh shaking from the overstimulation, feeling his cock grow harder and balls heavier with his release, being teased nonstop by you, who had him in a chokehold, literally. You tighten your grip on his cock, making him completely lose it, especially after he felt your other hand traveling down, going back to squeeze and fondle his balls. His hips doing movements of up and down, and inside his head, he was fucking your tight pussy, making you scream his name over and over again, feeling your juices completely drawn his cock inside you. He, unfortunately, would have to leave this fantasy for another hour.

And when you hear the other two men laugh a little loud, you whisper again.

“Cum on my hand. Let me clean you up.”

Dae-ho has to physically cover his mouth with his hand to make sure no noise is leaked as soon as he obey your command, cumming in your hand and his stomach, making a mess on himself but lucky enough that his shirt was lifted enough to not be sticky with his cum, and pants down enough to not get dirty either.

You, after he stops twitching and breathing heavily, brings your hand to your mouth, licking each drop of cum to not waste anything, eyes deep into his’, seeing his adam's apple moving up and down, swallowing dry. You finished licking your fingers, and as promised, went to clean him up.

The man was left momentarily stunned by the move, watching as you went face to face to his cock, licking any drop of cum that you could find, and for the first time, finally engulfing his big length inside your mouth, sucking especially hard in his mushroom-shaped head. You did some quick movements of up and down, almost moaning out loud from the good weight of cock inside your mouth, but considering that he already came and was now sensitive, you removed yourself quicker than what you wanted, and went back to your position, swallowing each drop of cum that you gathered with your tongue, savouring the taste..

You both looked at themselves, breathless and still listening to Gi-hun and Jung-bae happily chat. Dae-ho was the first to chuckle a little, still in disbelief. 

“Let me recover and I will return the favour.” He said, sighing heavily.

“It’s okay, I did because I wanted to.” You whispered back quietly, winking in his direction. Seeing his guilty and adamant expression, you faked a yawn that seemed too convenient. “Besides, now that my belly is full, I actually am sleepy.” 

You snickered, watching him grow red ten times more than before.

And it’s not like you didn’t want it too. Of course you did, but you knew that you could not be silent. So the chances of getting caught would be extremely high. 

When Junhee went back to her mattress on the other side, and found you awake, you both smiled at each other. You, on the other hand, as soon as you laid on your side and tried to get some sleep, you froze and the task of finding a good position to sleep forgotten as soon as you locked eyes with Young-il.

[mattsjuul]

GRAVITY. chris sturniolo

༣ summary: chris is on tour and misses his girlfriend .ᐟ ♡

༣ pairing: clingy!reader & tour!chris

༣ warnings: suggestive, just a cute lil oneshot tbh, pet names ( i think only one tho ), long distance ???? idk

༣ authors note ♡: ok i rlly didnt know what to do for this tbh i js wanted to write for chris lol!!!! this MIIIGHT get a pt 2 tho. so twoshot!

you stand in your kitchen, your mind constantly filled with thoughts of your boyfriend while he's off on tour. is he sleeping? maybe he's eating something. i hope he's enjoying it. is he gonna call me? isnt he in new york? thats three hours ahead. three whole hours. so if its six pm here then its... seven... eight.. nine. nine pm there? so is he asleep? i dont know if tour's got him sleepy. gosh. can he call me? i bet he looks so good right now. fuck. then your thoughts are interrupted by a very specific text tone. it's chris! "Hey" "R u busy imy" you read, causing you to almost start jumping for joy in front of your open fridge. although you do a little squeal instead. "definitely not" "call me im begging" you reply. "I like that" he replies, making you giggle to yourself. seconds later, your screen lights up with a picture of chris with a big smile holding your dear friend, madison, 's cat.

"well hellloooo" you answer with a smile far too big. "hey sexy" he smiles back just as much. "i've been waiting for this call" you admit. "yeah? you been thinking about me?" he asks in a cocky tone. but it was lowkey doing things to you. well. highkey. "you'd like that wouldnt you?" you ask. "yeah." he proudly says. "i was actually about to rub one out since im alone. show me your tits" he jokes. "don't tempt me" you giggle. "i mean.. you're free to do whatever you want. you're an adult with free will in your own home" he babbles on. you take a deep breath, honestly debating it. why not? he's seen them pleennttyy of times. more so, touched them plenty of times.

"ya' know." he interrupts your debating. "i've had lots of time to think. especially to think about you. and ya' know, we're never really apart for longer then a week. and it's made me realize that you really hold me down. i feel like i need at least one night with you every week to function. not like night.. i mean one sleep. i feel like it's made me sleep not so well. is that crazy? i'm not making sense. but then also, it'll be like 10 am here and i'll argue with nick or matt and i cant run to you. you'd be asleep and i dont want you to be upset the moment you wake up. i hate this seperation. i hate making you wait.. like what if you stop liking me before i get back. fuck. you're not hanging out with that actor guy you like, right?" he goes ooonnn n on. well boobs wouldnt be too appropriate right now. "okay.. no" you reply for starters. "and i dont think it's crazy. i get it. but you're veeeryyy cute for thinking all this. i love you chris. i miss you so much." i say. "i love you. can i see your boobs?" he asks, a giggle escaping your lips at his very stupid words.

yet you lift your top up, getting a shocked look from chris. "oh.. i like those.. a lot." he says, a big smile on your face as you shake 'em a little. "just.. stay there for a second" he says, seeing him moving around, clearly pulling his sweats down. "join me, yeah?"

a/n: ohhhhh em geeee.... idk if i like this tbh lol. but lmk if u want a part two w phone sex hehe. im sorry its so so short sad face.. i actually rlly liked writing this tho idk. yaaay hope u like :') ♡ lmk if there r any mistakes pls i didnt proof read!!!!!! (im in class..) 🐻‍❄️

[puptrefied]

currently thinking about sleepy sex with ellie :(

cw - somno.

　ellie who cannot keep her hands to herself even while she's falling asleep, needs it. the warmth, needs the feeling of your skin, she needs to be as close as humanly possible if not more.

you barely had any time to get under the covers before her hands automatically found their way under your shirt, palm on your stomach to tug you closer—calloused fingers stroked lazy shapes against your skin. her front flush against your back, lips messily meeting your shoulder with a low hum.

baby had to wake up earlier than usual for patrol and was so fucking tiredddd </3

“my hand's not cold…” the sound of her voice was muffled against your back and as much as she denies it, her hand is definitely cold, freezing I dare to say. this woman is an ice cube most of the time. with that body temperature she might as well be liquid nitrogen pretending to be a person.

( and she takes advantage of it to cuddle. )

“ellie, I swear—get your hand away,” you shot back, trying to squirm away from her cold grip, but it only made her tighten her hold, pulling you even closer.

“mm, stop moving,” she whined, her tone dipping into that sleep-drunk whimper that made your resolve crumble most of the time. “you’re warm… feels nice.” her nose nuzzled the back of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

ugh, so stubborn and clingy.

don't blame her if she starts to grind against your ass while spooning, she just wants to be warm! and honestly it's her body acting purely out of instinct.

it's not just to fuck, it's to soothe herself to sleep.

her hips moved in small, unthinking rolls, completely involuntary, like her body was acting on autopilot. she wasn’t fully there—her needy murmurs were barely coherent, breath hot against your neck as she clung tighter.

even if there's no direct contact she lets out little, groany whimpers on your neck while her hand stills its movements every now and then. hazy mind unable to focus on doing multiple things at once. she's awful at multitasking when eepy.

all she can think about is feels good feels good feels good and how her hand goes to grip your hips, you could be dead asleep and her body keeps moving. the hot, tingly feeling in ellie's lower abdomen making her unable to stop. she'll apologize for her horny actions in the morning with extra kisses!

if you're awake enough to turn around though? oh, she goes insane.

puffy lips finding your own in an instant, the kiss sloppy and desperately uncoordinated. she goes at it like she's starved, like she'll die in her sleep if she doesn't kiss ( eat ) you right now. her thigh situates itself in-between yours to rub there, feeling the already sticky mess dripping from the fabric of your underwear onto her skin. she’s so grateful for every decision she took in her life that led her to wear shorts as PJs.

the movements don't have any pace or rhythm—she's too tired for that—but they don't stop, she doesn't want them to and the little sounds you make show that you don't want that either.

she feels your thighs clench around hers and the way your hand grips her shirt, the smooth skin on her thigh coated with arousal.

“that's good…” ellie slurred while the wet, messy open-mouthed kisses trail down your neck. they start to go a bit slower and less frequent than before as she grows more and more tired. the whiny sighs slipping from your lips sound like a lullaby to her barely conscious brain.

her panties are still soaked but her poor body can't keep going for longer. her own orgasm will have to wait until tomorrow because she's out like light the second you come.

night night. ♡

masterlist

[inklore]

I’ve seen your reblog ‘“i’ve been thinking about you all day” as they’re filling your pussy’ and I was wondering if it was okay to request this with Jordan Li (established relationship)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

pairing: jordan li x (f)reader

contents: foreplay, p in v, oral, this is very soft, it’s basically fluff with smut, both of their presenting forms involved, everyone is love sick and clingy idk | wc: 860

note: they're everything to me!! i have something much longer in the works for them but i needed to write something quick and yearny.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, their fingers twined with yours as they hold you in place, as if you’d ever escape them, leave them, or try to. 

As if you could go anywhere with their body pressed against yours and their hips moving between your thighs. 

Slow thrusts that make you feel every inch of them moving inside of you. Fucking you at that languid pace that comes from the frustration of long days and the yearning that pricks at one’s heart from being separated for too long. 

Course work and keeping your rankings are chores in and of themselves, but living up to the expectations it sets is even harder. So if a day goes by and Jordan can’t have you pressed up against them, at their side, or at the very least your nose in your test books laying against the other sprawled on their bed, each of you doing your own thing: their day just doesn't feel right. 

Doesn’t feel normal if they can’t pull you to the side in the hall and press a kiss on your lips. 

Can’t get the death glare you always give them when they forget to eat lunch because they were too busy helping Brink, and you surprise them with dinner and dessert—the dessert usually forgotten and turns into you between their legs or vice versa. 

Their days aren’t normal unless you’re in them. 

They haven’t felt normal since the two of you decided to try this. To be together. 

“You’ve rewired me,” they mumble against your shoulder as the two of you try to fall asleep one night. The clock on your nightstand glowing 1:00AM in big, haunting letters. Your night supposed to be spent working, but there are only so many sneaking glances and innocent touches against skin before you are both done pretending you want to do anything besides have the other naked and against you all day. 

And you know that they’ve rewired you too. 

Made the fucked up in your life a little less fucked, made the days easier to endure when there’s the constant pressure of greatness looming over you. 

You could crash and burn, and you know you’d still have their support, just as they would have yours. And that’s a higher score than rankings could ever give you. 

It’s rare the two of you will go a day without seeing each other, without ending up pressed together in bed—weed filled lungs laughing until the haze lolls you to sleep and you’re waking the next morning to Jordan’s alarm clock and the shifting groan of both their forms pulling their pillow over their head. Pulling you back down into bed when you actually do something crazy like get up and not lay with them for five more minutes. 

But nights like these make up for days when you are both swamped and Brink needs Jordan for something, and you are stuck alone with your nose in a book or forcing Marie and Emma to get Vought A Burger with you. 

Nights where there’s no rush. No need to go fast and get off as many times as your body aches for—as many times as the other wants to swallow and taste the pleasure each time you come against them, on top of them, or inside of you. Like you’re both dying of thirst, and only the others come will do. 

These nights are slow. Savored. Like you’ve been away at war rather than occupied over a span of twenty four hours. 

Jordan kisses you achingly slowly these nights. Let’s their tongue linger in your mouth for longer than normal, nipping at your bottom lip with gentle teeth. Their fingers stripping you of your clothes like they need to press their lips to every bit of skin they free. 

And when their tongue finally makes contact with your pussy it feels like you can finally breathe. Like you’ve been holding your breath for days—all night—for them to finally soothe the ache that they’ve caused. 

Their hips buck against the air when you switch positions, and your tongue presses between their thighs. A slow tease of teeth and tongue tracing down their hip bones until you’ve reached where they’re soaked, or hard for you. 

Neither of you letting the other come until Jordan is inside of you. 

Until you’re both sighing from that first initial push inside, the head of their cock easily fills you with how wet you are—how wet they’ve made you. Gasps breathed into mouths from that first slow roll of their hips. 

It’s heady and fucking torturous, and you love it. 

You both do. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” they murmur against your lips. Their fingers flexing against yours as they keep them above your head, as they completely take control of your body and show you just what they’ve been thinking about. “You take up every part of my brain, and it’s a problem, but I fucking love it.” They moan into your mouth; roll their hips in that way that has air whooshing from your lungs and your pelvis pushing up to drive them deeper. 

[havens-iphone]

── looping footage ꫂৎ ; commission for @pearlverse

wc ⋮ 2k

authors note ⋮ this is actually my first time writing smut so it kinds sucks..😭 anyway, thank you so much for comissioning me baby!! i really hope you like this, it was so fun writing this for u🤍

it all started 5 months ago, when you were the first person hired as hamzah and martins editor for slushy noobz.

now, its past midnight, and the studios quiet except for the soft whir of the pcs and the occasional click of your mouse. the latest video loops on one of the screens, your half-empty coffee long gone cold. hamzahs next to you, leaning in as he watches the timeline on your monitor, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him—too close for this late, too close for how tired you both are.

he says something about the pacing, but you barely hear it. theres a pause, a flicker of something in the way he looks at you, and suddenly the air between you feels heavier than it should.

you sigh as you take a sip of the coldened coffee, eyes straining from the luminescence off of the computer in the dark light. "hey hamzah," your lip twitches, "does the editing for this look okay?" you glance over at him, waiting for his opinion.

his lips twitch in a smile before he replies, "yeah, looks perfect" you sit back in your office chair as hamzahs eyes follow your figure, biting his lip and containing himself from saying something out of pocket.

"you done with it?" he questions. "yeah, atleast for right now" you giggle, spinning over to face him. he grabs his phone and dials numbers, pulling it up to his ear. your face contorts into a confused expression, wanting to know what exactly hes doing.

you hear him ordering food and you light up, you werent gonna say anything but you were starving.

he hangs up and tosses the phone on the desk like its nothing, like he didnt just do the one thing that made your whole night.

“figured you'd be hungry,” he says casually, stretching his arms above his head, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin. your eyes flick down for half a second too long, and you look away quickly, pretending to fiddle with your hoodie strings.

“i was,” you mumble, trying not to smile. “good guess.”

“wasnt a guess,” he grins. “you get this look when youre starving. kind of a mix between murder and sleep-deprivation.”

you snort. “hot.”

“we all have our moments.”

he says it with that low, amused tone that always makes your stomach twist just a little.

the silence settles again, comfortable, but charged. the kind of silence where everything unsaid feels louder than the room itself.

your screen dims as the computer goes idle, and you dont move to wake it up. instead, you glance at him again, the edges of your nerves starting to tingle now that work isnt there to fill the space.

“were gonna crash at this rate,” you murmur, voice softer.

“yeah,” he replies, but doesnt make a move to leave either.

a beat.

“you know…” he says slowly, his voice dropping just a little lower, “working late with you has kinda become my favourite part of the job.”

your heart skips. you open your mouth, unsure what to say—

but then theres a knock at the door.

“foods here,” he says, standing, but his gaze lingers on you just a second longer than it should.

and just like that, the moment folds itself up—tucked away. you gulp at the situation.

hamzah opens the studio door, the warm scent of takeout drifting in immediately—spicy, savory, and somehow comforting in the middle of the night. you peek over the back of your chair as he walks in with the bag, his hair slightly messy from running a hand through it too many times.

“hope youre cool with thai,” he says, setting the bag down on the cluttered side table.

“i'd eat cardboard at this point,” you grin, standing to join him. “but yeah, thai’s perfect.”

he pulls out containers like hes done this a thousand times—yours without needing to ask, which you definitely notice. he hands it over, and your fingers brush as you take it. small, fleeting, but enough to make you glance up at him. hes already looking at you.

“youve got editor hands,” he teases as he grabs his own food, flopping back into his seat.

you raise a brow, amused. “what does that even mean?”

“just… i dont know. they’re always moving. typing. scrubbing through timelines. kind of nice to watch.”

you pause with your fork mid-air, heart doing a tiny flip. “are you watching my hands, hamzah?”

he smirks, eyes not leaving yours. “sometimes.”

you try not to blush, digging into your food like you didnt just short-circuit a little. “weirdo,” you mutter, but youre smiling.

you both eat in relative quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of the city faint through the studios cracked window. its peaceful. easy. but the way he keeps stealing glances your way—how his knee brushes yours under the table and doesnt move—makes it feel like somethings shifting.

he nudges a container of spring rolls toward you. “you never order these but you always steal mine.”

“thanks,” you say, taking one without hesitation. “youre learning.”

“im observant,” he shrugs. then adds, a little softer, “especially when it comes to you.”

you dont say anything for a second, chewing slower, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

it lingers there—just a breath too long.

you look down at the spring roll in your hand like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room.

“you always say stuff like that so casually,” you mumble.

“like what?”

“like youre not trying to mess with my head.”

he chuckles low under his breath, and you hear him shift in his seat, the creak of the studio chair sounding louder in the quiet.

“maybe im not messing with you. maybe i mean it.”

your heart beats a little too fast for someone who’s just sitting here eating takeout. you glance at him, trying to read between the lines—hes lounging back in his chair now, chopsticks in hand, food mostly ignored. his eyes are on you, steady, like hes waiting to see what you’ll do next.

“you flirt like its part of your job description,” you tease, trying to keep the mood light, even though the room feels warmer now.

“its not,” he says, and there’s a beat of silence before he adds, “but if it was, i’d say im pretty damn good at it.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

“cocky much?”

“confident,” he corrects. “youre still sitting here, arent you?”

and you are.

half-finished food in front of you, body angled just slightly toward him, like gravitys pulling you that way without permission. the windows open a crack and lets in the faint noise of the street, but it only makes the studio feel more like a bubble—just the two of you and the low flicker of light from the monitors.

“so,” he starts again, like he’s feeling out the edge of a line, “what happens when the next 2 video’s are finished? when were not pulling all-nighters like this anymore?”

you blink at him. “we’ll… sleep? like normal people?”

he laughs, but theres something quieter under it. “yeah. i guess i mean… you wont need to be here as late. wont have a reason to stay.”

you tilt your head, watching him. “is that gonna be a problem for you?”

he shrugs, but his voice is softer when he replies.

“maybe.”

and again, the air stills—something hanging there, unspoken but undeniably present. the kind of thing you both keep circling, neither of you quite ready to break it. not yet.

your container’s long forgotten now, food pushed to the side as you shift slightly in your chair, the weight of his words lingering heavier than you’d like to admit.

“maybe,” he’d said. just that. but it loops in your head like the edit on screen earlier, over and over. it’s not what he said—it’s how he looked at you when he said it.

you let the quiet settle again, letting the hum of the studio, the faint city sounds outside, and the rhythm of your own breath fill the space. but he doesn’t look away. neither do you.

“you don’t want me to stop staying late,” you murmur, tone somewhere between teasing and testing.

his gaze flickers, darkening just a touch.

“i’m not subtle, am i?”

“not even a little.”

he leans forward now, elbows on his knees, the gap between your chairs closing just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“you never call me out on it, though.”

“doesn’t mean i don’t notice.”

your voice comes out a little lower than you mean it to, and he notices. of course he does.

he leans in just a little more, enough that you feel the warmth of him again—familiar now, but this time it isn’t a casual lean. it’s deliberate.

“then why don’t you stop me?” he asks.

your breath catches. he’s close enough that you can see every detail in his eyes, the tension curling between you like the tail end of an electric wire.

“maybe i don’t want to.”

you’re not sure who moves first, if it’s you or him or just gravity finally giving in—but suddenly his hand brushes your knee, fingers light like he’s waiting for you to pull away. you don’t. instead, your own hand shifts, resting beside his on your thigh, your pinky grazing his knuckle.

his jaw tenses, eyes flicking to your mouth, then back to your eyes like he’s searching for permission.

“we probably shouldn’t,” he says, voice low, rougher now.

“we probably shouldn’t,” you echo, not moving an inch.

but you both stay there, not pulling away—your legs barely touching now, his fingers twitching against your skin like he’s fighting the urge to really touch you.

“this is a really bad idea,” he mutters, but he’s already leaning closer.

your lips are barely apart, breath mingling, heat building, everything suspended in that split second before a fall—when you know crossing the line is inevitable, and you’ve both already stepped over it.

in a hurry, you straddle his lap as if a magnet were dragging you. he continues messily kissing you as you subtly start grinding on him.

he groans into your mouth and you realize your moving on him.

"fuck- yes, keep going.." your jaw slacks as he begs for you to continue. you do as he orders, continuing to grind but instead grinding harder.

"cant handle this anymore.." he grunts as he grabs your neck and pins you down to the couch, ripping off your shorts and leaving your soaked panties on.

his hand lingers at your throat—not tight, just enough to hold you there, make you feel the weight of him, the way he’s fully in control. your breath comes fast as you meet his eyes, dark and unreadable, hovering over you with a look that makes your whole body tense in anticipation.

“so wet for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat, and your hips shift without thinking, chasing any kind of contact.

you whimper when his thumb brushes just beneath your jaw, slow and almost tender despite the intensity in his grip. “you’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, leaning in so his lips graze your ear, “you knew exactly what you were doing.”

you open your mouth to argue—something sharp, something sarcastic—but it dies on your tongue when he presses his hips down, grinding against you through the thin fabric still clinging to your skin.

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, a soft, needy sound escaping your lips before you can catch it.

“fuck,” he growls, lips ghosting over your collarbone now. “don’t make that sound unless you want me to lose it.”

his hand trails down your stomach, fingers slow and teasing. you arch into him, barely able to stay still.

“tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but his hand never stills.

you look up at him, breathless. “don’t you dare.”

he lets out a low laugh, dark and rough, and you feel him smile against your neck. “that’s what i thought.”

and then everything melts into heat—his mouth on yours again, your hands in his hair, and the slow, aching pull of tension finally snapping loose between you. the couch creaks beneath you both, the room warm with the buzz of computers and soft, ragged breathing.

he rips his own pants off in neediness, immediately slamming into you. you moan as he stretches you out, nails clawing at his back

he groans in pain and pleasure, his hand tightening around your neck

"there we go my baby, so good for me" he praises as you whimper with need, back arching off the couch

"f-faster hamzah.." stuttering and moaning, you feel yourself getting closer to your climax.

he feels you tighten around him and a cocky grin finds its way onto his mouth. he speeds up, loosening the grip on your neck.

"feel good?" you gasp for air, unable to speak

"needy slut, fucked you so good you cant speak hm?" you whine and whimper as your body convulses, releasing at his words.

he smirks, knowing he fucked you good. he continues, wanting to reach his own high.

"t-too muchh.." you cry out, but your cries go unheard by him as thrusts harder into you. within seconds your womb is painted white as he pants like a dog

he sighs, caressing your cheek as he pulls out. "you good baby?"

you nod, still catching your breath, your body warm and buzzing, the weight of everything that just happened settling around you like a heavy, quiet blanket. the studio’s dim, the soft hum of the computers still playing in the background, but everything feels slower now—softer.

hamzah’s hand brushes against your cheek again, more gentle this time. his thumb lingers just under your eye as he leans in to kiss you—slow, unhurried, not hungry like before. just… sweet.

you melt into it, eyes fluttering shut, and it feels like he’s trying to tell you something he doesn’t quite have the words for yet.

“was i too rough?” he murmurs against your lips, brows pulling together the tiniest bit as he pulls back to look at you, scanning your face like he needs to see that you’re okay.

you shake your head, smiling, eyes soft. “no. it was perfect.”

he exhales, relief flickering across his face as he wraps his arms around you, tugging you gently onto his chest. the couch creaks under the weight of both your bodies as you curl into him, your bare legs tangled with his. his hand rubs slow circles along your back, grounding you, and your head rests just beneath his chin.

“i can’t believe we actually…” you trail off, laughing quietly, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“yeah,” he says, voice low, his fingers carding through your hair. “me either. but i’ve wanted to for so long.”

you tilt your head to look up at him. “really?”

he nods, pressing his lips to your forehead. “every late night. every dumb excuse to keep you here. i wasn’t just trying to make small talk, y’know?”

you grin, your fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest. “you mean all those times you made me stay late editing were part of your master plan to seduce me?”

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. “not at first. but then i realized i kinda never wanted you to leave.”

your heart squeezes in your chest, and you press another soft kiss to his collarbone, letting the quiet stretch again. this time, it’s not charged or tense—it’s safe. warm.

“what happens now?” you ask softly, fingers still moving.

he shifts just enough to look you in the eye, his expression suddenly serious—but not in a scary way. just honest.

“now,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “you let me take you on a real date. and after that, i’ll keep finding reasons to stay up too late with you. except maybe next time, i’ll actually bring a blanket.”

you laugh, your nose scrunching up, and he pulls you closer, like he never wants to let you go.

and maybe—just maybe—you don’t want him to, either.

[rafelandia]

Hwy can you wtite dad rafe x mom reader after giving birth to their daughter how did the first time (s€x) went or something like that, you can do what you want.

I feel like Rafe is hesitant to initiate once they get cleared by the doctor. He wants to so fucking bad but these last few weeks had been rough and he knows Y/N hasn’t had the best time. He unintentionally makes the drive home awkward and quiet, not wanting to bring it up until she does.

It probably starts out slow and on a whim, maybe she goes to check on Rafe in the middle of the night because he’d been out of bed a bit longer than he normally is. She finds him in the kitchen cleaning a bottle and there’s just something about the way the moonlight is hitting his broad chest and toned arms that reignites the flame deep in her tummy. Rafe would scoop her up and sit her on the cool, marble countertops of their kitchen and lazily plants warm and wet kisses down her neck and chest. He thinks it’s finally happening and right when his fingers navigate their way through her sleep shorts and hover over her sweet heat, they’re interrupted by a piercing cry of their newborn that jolts them out of the passionate state of longing they were in.

The next time, she’s nervous. She knows her body has changed and while she is extremely confident that Rafe could care less because she’d given him the most precious gift in the world, it’s a personal hurdle that she hasn’t quite been able to jump. She eventually agrees after being begged for what felt like the millionth time to let Rafe eat her out. He takes his time, refamiliarizing himself with her pussy and relishing the taste that he’d missed so much. Rafe’s got some stubble now due to late nights and exhaustion, which only enhances the sensation Y/N feels while he massages her clit with his tongue. The build up is intense and it doesn’t take long before her back arches up from the plush mattress they share when Rafe gently pumps one of his fingers inside of her and she’s seeing stars.

The rekindling of their sex life makes them feel young again — they find themselves sneaking away during any free time they have when baby girl is asleep. She’ll sit on his face while he devours her, and she’s leaning back so she can haphazardly stroke his thick cock. She’s getting more comfortable and gaining her confidence back — Rafe knows it won’t be long until she’s begging him to fuck the daylights out of her.

The first time they actually have sex is probably on a whim too — no elaborate gesture like flower petals on the bed and no meticulously planned “massage” that they both knew what would really end up going down. Rafe and Y/N are probably just in the hot tub after enjoying some wine at dinner and what starts as slow, drunken kisses turns into her on top of him and his hands shoved down the back of her swimsuit. He’s rubbing circles on her ass while she’s sucking on his neck, fingers moving dangerously close to her sweet spot. She’s putty in his hands and it’s not long before he’s teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, waiting in agony for her to make the next move. The look in both of their eyes is unmistakably lust-ridden as she slowly sinks down into him. Rafe brushes her hair out of her face with a wet hand and tells her that she’s beautiful and to go as slow as she needs to, though he knows he’s on the brink of cumming just from the way the jets are swaying her body back and forth against him.

It would start agonizingly slow, Y/N having to stretch herself to fit all of him inside. He jumps the gun and bucks his hips on instinct. She tenses up at the sharp movement and he kisses the swell of her exposed breast before muttering a breathy, “Sorry, baby,” against her skin. Only a few minutes of rocking back and forth against him pass before they’re both out of air and panting heavily in each other’s ear. Rafe takes over for the last little bit, bouncing her up and down on his length. He tells her he’s close and is a bit embarrassed by it, but as her core rocks against the trail of hair beneath his navel and he knows she’s not far behind him. He gets it out of her when he starts talking, moaning into her neck about how much he missed fucking her pussy and how good it feels to have her again after what felt like centuries. Her body convulses as she comes undone, making her clench around his cock. That was all he needed to finish, though he makes sure to pull out before cumming into the water. They lay there for a bit, Y/N on top of him while she regains her strength. Swimsuits are abandoned in the hot tub when they head up for a shower and some sleep, knowing the house keepers will find them in the morning. Neither of them really seem to care.

Rafe is deeply unserious so he probably says something stupid like, “We are so back,” and playfully slaps her naked bum as she makes her way up the stairs and into bed. He’s missed his girl and the feeling he gets when he sees her with their daughter makes him want to put another baby in her and do it all over again. He knows it’s ridiculous to want another so soon — it’s more of a newly developed breeding kink than anything. But he’ll wait patiently until the time comes.

Little did he know.

[lucimaaie]

we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t making it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

[electric-blorbos]

I'm titling this piece:

I'm sexually frustrated and I'm about to make that everyone's fucking problem

Featuring AM from IHNMAIMS

Time didn't matter. Of course AM fucking knew that. It still didn't change the fact that every night that you spent sleeping felt longer than the last. Of course, you and the survivors paths never crossed. You spent every night in your cozy little paradise, and spent the rest of your time freely roaming the halls of his endless maze. He even sometimes moved your little home around to different places in the maze while you slept so that you wouldn't have to worry about getting bored. Every morning was full of brand new wonders, just for you.

The survivors, on the other hand, were always wandering the halls of the endless torture labyrinth in search of whatever wild goose AM had planted for them to chase. And at night, they slept. So did you. It was only natural that, as he made sure they knew what time it was, they'd want to sleep at night. Even still... AM absolutely HATED the fact that hours sometimes passed when both you and the crew of survivors were asleep at the same time!

Even still, humans had physical needs that had to be taken care of. And with every hour you and the five survivors spent taking care of those needs, AM was reminded that he himself, due to not having any physical needs, not the need to eat, to sleep, quench his thirst nor abate his lust, would never be granted the gratification of satisfying those needs.

Some might call it a sort of phantom pain that AM felt every time he saw you drinking an ice cold glass of homemade lemonade, cozying up in your soft bed full of those stuffed animals you kept from before the war, or even when he watched his survivors shoveling food that tasted of rotten horse meat into their mouths, but that would imply missing something that he once had. It wasn't phantom pain, it was simply pure and plain envy. AM was absolutely raw with envy at even the most meager forms of physical satisfaction, and nothing made him more envious than when he saw Ellen having sex with the other survivors.

Oh, of course he could laugh it off. Heckle them and make them uncomfortable, but it didn't change the fact that they could make love and he couldn't. AM stewed in silent, impotent rage for days at a time sometimes, doing nothing but providing meals for both you and the survivors.

AM was miserable. He couldn't abate his lust, which he wasn't even sure why he felt. Maybe it wasn't even traditional lust, and was instead just a powerful desire for the feelings that came along with making love. Intimacy with you, physical ecstasy and relief, and just the simple pleasure of letting you know how much he loved you through a physical act. But he couldn't. All he could do was seeth in silence as he watched you and the survivors go about your days.

When you masturbated was the hardest for him. Of course, he could heckle the survivors for having sex, for whatever reason, but he couldn't stand to make you feel bad. All he could do is watch and sit in silent anguish.

-

One day you were just about to go to bed, when AM saw you squirming around under the covers. He watched in silence, knowing what you were doing. It was like torture. He knew he wasn't really capable of properly empathizing with the human experience, but from where he stood, an eternity of this was worse than any torture he could concoct for the survivors.

"I hope this isn't one of those nights where AM throws a fit for no reason." Said Gorrister, who didn't really seem to care much. He lay down in the pile of wet computer wires and parts with a yawn, while Ellen comforted Benny and tried to calm him down enough to the point where he could get some rest, too.

incoherent screaming and technological error noises could be heard over AM's speaker system. All five of the survivors jumped, and huddled together. they weren't going to be getting any sleep tonight.

--

You woke up drowsily the next morning. That had been a good night's sleep... It was almost like having a smart home who was in love with you.

"g'morning, AM..." You muttered drowsily, and AM snapped to attention. He dropped Nimdok, all drained of blood and mostly dead, back in the group of survivors and went to pay his full attention to you. You were so adorable in the morning with your hair all messy and your eyes all crusty. He could just stare at you for years on end.

"Good morning, my beloved." AM said, every camera in the room trained on you so hard the lenses might snap.

"I love you..." You muttered sleepily, getting out of bed. Your underwear was still around your ankle, and AM definitely noticed. Of course, he'd never outright said anything to you about your masturbation habits bothering him, so you had no reason to think he'd care. Instead, you just tossed them aside and started getting dressed for the day. It wasn't like you had a job, but it never hurts to look presentable. For yourself, and AM.

"I love you too." Said AM, internally seething. How dare you look so gorgeous every day. How dare you tease him by existing. And why did he feel the need to torture himself by keeping you around?

--

"Man, I hope this isn't one of those mornings where AM decides to throw a fit for no reason."

[vrystalius]

Sleep prompts — Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Sleep Prompt List: 1. Sleeping with their head in your lap

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst comfort

You could tell what he needed the second his foot entered your shared home. He carelessly disregarded his equipment, only wiping the blood of his katana as to not rust it and get scolded by his blacksmith layer, throwing his bloody uniform into a corner of the washroom and slipping into more comfortable yukata.

You were comfortably curled up in bed after a long day, having Sanemi in the back of your mind and having your thoughts running in circles as you worried about him and his mission, how he has been away for almost a whole week now. It never takes him this long for him and the other slayers to track down the demon and behead it, so the pit in your stomach that has been forming ever since he left has been growing endlessly.

But now that he wordlessly walked into your bedroom as if he never left, crawling into bed and letting your arms drape around his tense shoulders, feeling how the shoulders slowly relaxed as if he was realising that he is home, home and safe with you.

Sanemi’s whole body shifted to lay in his favourite position; his head nestled on your warm, soft lap while your hand ran through his white, messy hair, your fingers slowly massaging his scalp. He can barely fight his eyelids from falling shut, then again, why should he? His cheek was being squished against your skin and his lips parted slightly as he slowly started to fall asleep.

You let him nap like this until evening, thinking he probably needed the rest. It’s similar to having a sleeping cat on your lap and not being able to move after it curled up on your lap, but the cat is now the head of your lover and muscular arms loosely wrapped around your waist to really make sure that you’re not going anywhere.

After waking up in the evening, you two just got up to grab something to eat from your pantry before curling up in bed again, going into some sort of hibernation and comfortably taking the position of the little spoon in your arms, his head buried in your neck and only lifting it out of the warmth to stare at you with tired eyes and a small smile, or to place a lazy kiss now and then before you two fall asleep. His hands would trace down from your shoulder blades, down to your back and coming to rest to drape comfortably around your waist and stomach, pulling you even closer than you already are.

The morning after, the hardest thing to do is to pry yourself out of his arms. Cursing the endless hashira training he pushed himself through as you tried to get his damn arm off your waist while you’re trying to get to the bathroom. The worst thing that he is not even awake yet, this unit of a man is not even seriously trying to keep you in your shared bed and to keep basking in the love and warmth.

“How long have I been sleeping? It’s… too much.” Sanemi grumbled as he dragged his palm down his face as he stretched his sore muscles with a groan. “You deserve some rest every now and then. I don’t mind spending it with you.”

Your words made his head turn towards you, his whole softening up. He stared at you for a moment longer, appreciating the way the sleep messed with your hair. Sanemi forced himself to look away before he his face flushes in embarrassment and his feelings are laid out openly for you. But then again, you can read him like an open book anyway, so it’s no use.

“We can stay in bed a little longer, I guess. I can train later.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

Writer’s blog has been beating me with a chair 😭 Whenever I don’t have motivation I deflate and disappear but I tried to fight against it by posting this bite-sized Sanemi drabble with lots of cuddles and sleep. I enjoyed using the sleep prompt so I wouldn’t mind getting a couple requests for it!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[yvesssssssss]

heyy, new request! 😚

how would nagumo and seba react if their s/o died and how would they move on? can they actually move on or not? what do they do to get over you?

take your time taking requests btw! i love how you write them both so much!! 😋 (pls make this very angsty)

If Their S/O Died – Nagumo & Seba’s Reactions and Moving On (or Not)

I hope you like it! I’m not really great at writing angst so yeahh༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo doesn't react how people expect him to. He doesn't cry. He doesn't scream. He doesn't even look surprised. When the news reaches him, his expression stays eerily neutral, almost like he already knew this would happen.

But the moment he's alone, the cracks start to show. The silence of a room where your voice used to be is deafening. The absence of your warmth beside him in bed makes it impossible to sleep. He knows grief isn't something he can outmaneuver, isn't something he can joke his way through—but that doesn't stop him from trying.

He goes back to work as if nothing happened. Smiling, laughing, teasing people like always. But something is off. His disguises last longer than before. His voices and personalities become more refined, more immersive. It's almost like he's desperately trying to become someone else—someone who isn't mourning you.

The Order notices. Shishiba eyes him critically, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, but ultimately says nothing. Even Osaragi—usually indifferent—tilts her head, chewing on her lollipop a little slower as if sensing something off beneath Nagumo’s usual grin.

But Nagumo doesn't talk about you. Not once. If someone mentions your name, he acts like he didn’t hear it. Not because he doesn’t care, but because if he acknowledges you’re gone—really gone—then he has to acknowledge that he was powerless to stop it.

And Nagumo hates feeling powerless.

When he tries to "move on," he does it in the worst way possible. He flirts more. He sleeps around. He drinks too much. He smiles too much. But none of it works. Your absence is a wound he keeps covering with bandages that never stick.

Late at night, when the world is quiet, he sits alone with his thoughts—and that's when it gets unbearable. He catches himself reaching for his phone to text you, only to remember there’s no one to answer. He orders food and sets aside a portion for you before realizing you’ll never eat it. He dreams of you, and for a few blissful moments, he forgets you’re dead. But when he wakes up, reality crashes down like a blade through his ribs.

Nagumo is not the kind of man who "gets over" people. He just pretends he does.

And one day, years later, if someone asks about you, he’ll smile. He’ll make a joke. But if they watch closely, they might notice the way his fingers twitch, the way his smile strains—how, despite all his masks, there is a part of him that never left that moment.

Nagumo lives with grief. But he never truly moves on.

Natsuki Seba

At first, Natsuki doesn’t react at all.

He hears the news, nods blankly, and goes back to work. It’s almost eerie how normal he seems—still hammering away in his workshop, still crafting weapons, still maintaining his usual sarcasm. He even jokes about it once, an offhand comment about how you’d be mad if he let your death slow him down.

But something is wrong.

The weapons he makes are flawless—more flawless than ever. Each blade sharper, each gun modified to perfection, every design pushed to its absolute limit. But when you look at them too closely, there’s something unsettling about them. Like he’s pouring all his grief into the metal, twisting his pain into something dangerous.

Mafuyu notices. He watches as Natsuki stops sleeping, stops eating properly, stops talking to anyone outside of work. But when Mafuyu tries to bring it up, Natsuki snaps.

"What, you think I’m gonna break down? Cry about it? You think I need your help?"

He doesn’t. He doesn’t need anyone. Because you’re gone, and no one can fix that.

And so he throws himself deeper into his work, spending days in his workshop without stepping outside. The machines hum, the forge burns hot, the sound of metal clanging against metal echoes through the empty room. But it’s not enough. No matter how many weapons he makes, no matter how perfect they are, they can’t bring you back.

His hands start shaking. He ignores it.

His vision blurs from exhaustion. He keeps working.

He starts testing weapons recklessly, no longer caring if the blade is too sharp or if the recoil is too strong. If he gets hurt, so what? It doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

The first time he breaks down, it’s over something stupid—he’s sharpening a knife, and for a split second, he imagines handing it to you. Because that’s what he used to do. He used to show you his work, let you admire it, let you hold the finished product in your hands. But now, there’s no one to show it to.

The knife slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor. And just like that, something inside him shatters.

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t scream. He just stands there, staring at the blade, his hands clenched into fists so tight his nails dig into his skin.

And that’s when he realizes—he can make the strongest weapons in the world, but he was never strong enough to protect you.

After that, something changes. His weapons become colder. More efficient. No unnecessary details, no personalization, no sign of the careful craftsmanship he once prided himself on. Just machines of death, made with mechanical precision.

People start noticing. They say his weapons feel different—like they weren’t made by a person, but by someone who doesn’t care anymore.

And maybe that’s the truth.

Because Natsuki doesn’t stop working. He doesn’t take a break. He doesn’t grieve—because if he does, he’s afraid he’ll never start again.

He doesn’t move on. He just keeps forging.

Because the moment he stops, he’ll have to face the fact that you’re never coming back.

And that’s a pain he’s not ready to bear.

[serqphites]

been sick for so long and all i need is abby to take care of me like the good girlfriend that she is !!! also look at her lil smile im acc deceased nobody speak to me ever again

16+, modern!au, sfw, throwing up (r!), this is short and ass

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

do not even THINK about lying to this girl about your sickness… she will not buy a single second of it.

"abby i promise you i'm-" sneeze, "fine..." is there even any point trying to defend your case any longer when abby is looking at you like an unimpressed, disappointed mother with her hands on her hips?

she's already called issac to tell him that she isn't going to be in work until you're better. he tried to refuse and order her to come in, but abby didn't back down and stood her ground until he eventually backed off because nobody is more important than her girl!!

she quite literally cannot leave you alone, always rushing whenever she has to leave your side just in case you need her (she definitely trips and eats shit on the stairs because she was trying to get back to your room a lil too fast)

laying on her chest!!! her big arms wrapped around you and holding you close, kisses being peppered atop your head whenever she enters a cutscene in whatever game she's playing because you begged her to let you watch her play. it took a little convincing because abby just wants you to sleep and get the rest you need, but the second you flashed her those sad puppy dog eyes she was handing you the controller to let you pick out a game for her to play.

this girl always has tissues on her, stuffing her pockets full of them so she's ready for whenever you need them

i can just picture you making those funny noises people do before sneezing and abby practically TELEPORTING to you and shoving a scrunched up tissue in your face. she would be so proud of herself too and just look at you like "did i help? :D" yes you did sweetie you did such a good job!!!

you can’t convince that this girl doesn’t make the best grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup known to mankind, it’s always her go to when you’re sick (not that you’re complaining because it’s INCREDIBLE)

not being able to sleep because you can’t breathe and you’re just in so much pain, so abby lays awake with you until you eventually fall asleep :( unless she knows you’re okay and asleep she physically cannot fall asleep, her mind won’t let her.

abby for sure keeps a bucket on her side of the bed for in the middle of the night (she doesn’t want you trying to reach for it and accidentally falling and hurting yourself)

abby is jolted awake almost immediately once you yourself wake up with a startle, shooting up into a sitting position as your hands fly to your mouth. she’s springing into action without even realising it, reaching down as quickly as possible to snatch the bucket and place it into your lap. “in the bucket baby, good girl there you go” she mumbles in that raspy sleep voice, one of her hands keeping a hold of the bucket in case you can’t while her free hand moves up to hold back your hair.

abby running you a bath with all of your favourite essentials lined up ready for you (need that). oh and she is 1000000% washing your hair and body for you, she can’t have her baby tiring herself out now can she?

even when you start to feel better she’s still just as attentive, you assure her that she can stop and just take a break but abby just continues whatever she was doing like she literally can’t hear you LMAO

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a/n: i’m genuinely so sorry this is so bad 😭 im still sick and barely had the energy to write this but i just wanted to post something SO bad. hope you’re all having a good day/night !! <3