#I’m savoring the content while we have it; you know?

[z-exo-l]

I haven’t watched the other episodes all the way through yet, just 9 and 10. But I am loving the mind games, frustration, sabotage, and general wacky hijinks in exo ladder rn.

Baek standing in the living room in despair + fuming at ksoo stealing his pillowcases is the cutest!

Sehun smugly observing everything since his mission is completed is hilarious.

Chanyeol’s epic five-head distraction trick with the candy. (The man probably dominates at Among Us. Also thanks for inadvertently giving us a face full of ksoo tush. 👍🏻)

Look at Jongdae’s adorable lil feet as he innocently pretends his mission isn’t love shots!

Minseok’s just chilling as his members descend into chaos (I’m so curious about the poor guy’s mission.)

Poor Junmyeon at that horrible jump rope mission; as funny as his face was when he got caught, it’s so cruel that Ksoo’s the one to spot him! 😂

And of course Kyungsoo maniacally (and sometimes erroneously) attempting to thwart everyone else’s mission is the absolute BEST! He looks like he’s having so much fun just being a shithead. 😆 I’m inclined to guess his mission is writing on other members’ bodies, just based on the teaser. But gd I’m so excited. And did you see his laugh in the teaser for the final episode?? My god I’ve missed his big laugh. 😊

[obsesssedblerd]

HI BBY HRU MAKE SURE TO DRINK WATER TODAY AND GET A GOOD NIGHTS REST YOU DESERFE IT XOXO

if there’s too many asks going on feel free to skip over mine but I was thinking 5 + Nanami? Xoxo

prompt #5: “Your ex never got you off?” 

pairing: kento nanami x f! reader

[18+ content below, MDNI]

contains: smut, cunninglingus, vaginal fingering, reader receiving oral for the first time

wc: 2k

likes, reblogs and comments appreciated <3 

a/n: seven of you requested this pairing omg.

— — — — — — 

Kento Nanami stares at you incredulously, and it reminds you of the way he looks at Satoru Gojo and Yuuji Itadori whenever they say something that’s a bit more on the sillier side. You look away, but you feel his fingers angle your jaw so your eyes are meeting his honey brown ones once more. 

“Your ex… never got you off.” He repeats your words back to you slowly. 

“I know it sounds crazy, since we dated for a while, but yeah.” You laugh nervously. You bring the champagne glass to your lips, then tip your head back, allowing the chilly liquid to slide down your throat. “He tried, and it couldn’t work. He mentioned something about how some women just can’t cum, so we both assumed that it’s the case for me. I remember—” 

Kento puts a finger to your lips, and you stop talking. He’s still staring, but this time, you can see the calculating—the plotting in his eyes. “Respectfully,” he says, his voice low. “Your ex is an idiot. I’m confident that he hardly tried at all.” 

You raise an eyebrow, and you shift yourself in the couch cushions to sit straighter. “I don’t think he’s an idiot, he was just…” You sigh as you trail off, unable to find anything polite to say about your ex-boyfriend. It was impossible, since he cheated on you. “I don’t know. Anyway, he definitely tried. Numerous positions, but nothing. It’s just something I’m unable to do.” 

He finishes the rest of his champagne before placing the empty glass on the living room table. He props an arm up on the back of the couch, then uses it to support his head. He’s still staring, still thinking. With his glasses and tie off, and the first few buttons of his blue dress shirt undone, your coworker looks even more handsome in this comfortable state. 

Kento inhales, then releases his breath. Slowly, he unclasps the expensive watch from his wrist and looks down at it. He remains like that for about fifteen seconds before you ask him, “What are you doing?” 

“Going to test something.”

“Test something like…?” You urge him to finish. 

He gently places the watch on the table next to the empty glass, then offers to take your empty glass as well. He leans towards you, and your heart pounds when his hand delicately strokes your cheek. The faint scent of his cologne fills your nose. His face nears yours, your eyes flicker to his mouth before fluttering shut. 

“Do you trust me?” He whispers against your lips, and you nod once before you feel his lips on yours. The kiss is gentle at first, but after wanting him for so long, you immediately grow hungry for more. You find yourself climbing on top of his lap, and he guides you there without breaking the passionate kiss, his large hands settling comfortably on your hips. 

You sigh blissfully into his mouth, and you feel your body heat up. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you savor every second and every feeling that this moment brings you. Months of keeping each other safe on missions, soft stares as you trade students for training and quiet conversations over coffee in the breakroom before meetings have all led to this. 

When he gently breaks away from you, both of you are slightly out of breath. His gaze settles hungrily on your low-cut top, and his fingers skim the hem of it. “May I?” He asks quietly. 

“Yes.” 

Kento isn’t fast; no, after craving you for many months, he has zero desire to rush any of this. His thumb brushes against the skin underneath your shirt briefly, then he grasps the hem of it, and pulls upward until it’s completely off of you, leaving you in your bra. Suddenly shy, you look away. You don’t know why you’re nervous; you’ve had sex before. You know what happens during sex. 

However, you don’t know how Kento Nanami operates. His kisses alone tell you that he’s nothing like your ex-boyfriend in the bedroom. 

“Hey.” 

His voice pulls you out of your mind, and you look back at him. He gives you a dizzyingly charming smile, his cheeks slightly flushed from champagne and want. “You’re beautiful.” He brings you closer and pecks your lips a few more times, then moves to your neck. “I’d like to taste you,” he whispers, and your breath hitches as he kisses the delicate skin beneath your ear. “Is that alright?”

You swallow thickly, and you manage to find some of your words. “Taste? I-I’ve never- No one has ever done that.” 

Kento hums as he pulls away, the corner of his mouth slightly lifting. “Your ex never went down on you?” 

You gently shake your head, and he exhales. “Disappointing, but not surprising.” One of his fingers fidget with one of the belt loops on your jeans, seeking permission. When you grant it with a single nod, he whispers to you once more. “Lie back for me.” 

He waits for you to lay down on the couch, and then climbs above you, caging you between his strong arms. He kisses you again, then begins to move lower, allowing his lips to explore your body, goosebumps on your flesh as they do. He carefully pushes your bra upward, and your head spins slightly when you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples. Large hands cup your tits as he sucks, massaging and gently squeezing. You release a sound that is something between a moan and a sigh, and Kento loves it. 

He takes his time, sliding lower and lower until he’s finally on his knees before you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down your legs. Heat rises to your face, and you look towards the couch cushion, too shy to see his reaction when he finds out just how wet you are. You know that there’s a damp spot on your panties. Your knees are pushed apart, revealing the most sensitive part of you. His fingers hook your lacy panties, then peels them down your thighs and calves, leaving you bare for him. “God,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. You look down at him again, and arousal pools in your stomach at the utter hunger in his eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he sighs again, and you exhale shakily when he kisses a particularly sensitive part of your inner thigh. “So, so beautiful.” 

Over the next few minutes, you learn that Kento Nanami is a teaser. His lips are everywhere except your aching pussy, which you’re certain is dripping messily onto the couch. You’ve never felt this wet, so needy to the point you’re whining out his name, spreading your legs just a bit more for him. “Please,” you whisper. 

His thumb slides around the outer lips of your pussy, applying just enough pressure to tease your clit—where he knows you’re aching the most. So soft, he thinks to himself. Soft and very wet. There’s no way her ex is so stupid—so selfish that he’d pass up the opportunity to taste her. 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he quietly tells you, like a teacher softly instructing his student. “There’s no need to rush this. I promise, I’ll give you what you need.”

Once he’s certain that no parts of your delicate thighs are unkissed, his lips inch towards your core. His tongue licks slow, vertical stripes. “Ohhhhh,” you gasp, every thought draining from your mind as your head falls back against the cushions. “Oh, my g-god, Kento…” He’d just begun, but you easily decide that his firm tongue against your pussy is the most incredible thing you’ve ever felt in your life. 

Kento releases a deep groan, obsessed with the way you taste and the sounds you make. His tongue expertly swipes across your folds, teasing you for just a little while longer before he finally gives your clit some attention. You jolt when you feel his lips wrap around your clit and suck a few times, and his hands firmly hold your thighs open so you don’t squirm away from him. 

“You can grab my hair if you need to,” he says when he notices your hands palming at the couch cushions. Once your hands grasp his blonde strands, Kento goes back to eating your pussy like a man starved. Your moans are far louder now, any nervousness you felt earlier now completely faded away. You buck your hips when he slides two fingers into your sopping wet core, his tongue still rolling against your clit. 

When he sees how your breath is beginning to shorten, how your abdomen gently clenches and how your thighs twitch, he pulls away for a moment to look up at you. “Where my thumb is now,” he starts, using a thumb to rub your swollen clit, “did he spend enough time touching here until you’re trembling like this?” 

You meet his eyes, then shake your head. “No.” 

“Then he didn’t try.”

Inside of your pussy, his fingers curl upward and you nearly shriek when he begins to massage a weak spot within you, pleasure zipping through you with every movement. “And here?” He asks you again, his fingers unrelenting. “Did he ever find this spot of yours and touch it the way I am now? Even when he fucked you?” 

When you struggle to answer, he adds a bit more pressure, and your back arches off of the cushion. “Ahh! N-No, he didn’t!” 

“Then he didn’t try.” He reiterates a bit sharper. “Still believe he’s not an idiot?” 

You shake your head, and his rough palms spread you open a bit wider. “I want you to relax for me. When you feel it, and you’ll know what it feels like, don’t tense up. Breathe through it,” he tells you, the bass in his voice vibrating against your thigh before he tenderly kisses it.

You nod, and his mouth is on you once more, licking, sucking, devouring you. His fingers continuously stroke that weak spot, and the combination has you breathing hard. Your hands grip his hair tighter, and you buck your hips against his face, instinctively chasing something you’ve never had before—a release of the pressure building in your body.

Nearly there, Kento thinks to himself. 

You gasp and attempt to slither away, suddenly nervous about the intensity about the impending orgasm, but he grips you tight to keep you still. “Oh my goddd,” you whine, and he feels you begin to tighten on his fingers.

That’s it. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you try to do what he told you earlier and focus on your breathing. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, K-Kento…!” You cry out his name in warning, and he hums against your clit, encouraging you. 

Cum for me. 

When you climax, you feel like you drown in pleasure. You sob in relief as you grind against Kento’s face, and he licks and fingerfucks you all the way through it, savoring the sweetness of the juices that flow from your pussy. Once you’re finished and your body relaxes, he lifts his head from between your legs, his chin glistening with the evidence of your orgasm. 

He reaches for his watch that he placed on the table, his eyes glimmering with approval as he checks the time. “Twenty-two minutes.” 

“H-Huh?” You ask, trying to focus even though your mind still spins. 

“From the first time I kissed you until now, it took twenty-two minutes to make you cum,” he says, leaning forward to place a kiss on your navel. “Your ex spent so much time in your presence and in your bed, but he couldn’t put aside twenty-two minutes to make you feel good. Truly a selfish idiot. As you can see, you can orgasm,” he says quietly, then brings himself back up to you, your faces nearly touching. “You just needed a competent partner.” 

He kisses you again, and you moan as you taste yourself on his lips. Your hands begin fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, eager to have and feel more of him. “Want more,” you sigh in between kisses. “Want you.” 

“Good,” Kento smiles as he assists you in unbuttoning his shirt. “Because I’m dying to see how fast I can get you to cum on my cock.” 

[amiableness]

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader ☼ 659 words

"Y/N, love, what should we name him?" James asks curiously from his seat beside you.

For the past twenty minutes, you've been nestled on the couch between James and Remus, completely engrossed in the romance novel cradled in your hands. The story is reaching a pivotal moment, and your anticipation grows as the main characters edge closer to acknowledging their long-held feelings for each other.

James's right arm rests comfortably behind your shoulders, a reassuring presence, while Remus quietly turns the pages of his own book, the room enveloped in a serene hush. Despite the delay of Sirius and Peter, you hope they'll at least allow you to savor this crucial juncture in your literary escape.

"Name what—" you begin, turning to look at James curiously. But a sharp shriek escapes your lips as you spot a fairly giant spider crawling across his left hand. Your book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as adrenaline kicks in. 

In pure desperation, you scramble across the couch towards Remus, your movements quick and almost frantic. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you find yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs. Remus, caught off guard, drops his book with a soft thud, his arms reacting instinctively to encircle you. His solid and reassuring arms pull you close against his chest, your own chest pressing firmly against his sturdy torso while you loop your arms around his neck for added security.

You watch James with wide eyes and parted lips, a sense of panic creeping in as he flashes you a teasing grin. You know he's about to tease you— it's inevitable.

“You don’t want to hold him? I can just plop him right-” James extends his left arm towards you, his tone teasing. 

Your reaction is immediate—a gasp that turns heads in the room, “Don’t you fucking dare!” You cling to Remus all the more, your fear palpable as you avoid any closer contact with the unwelcome intruder.

You and James both know there isn’t much of a threat behind your words. It’s hard to come across as intimidating when you’re buried in Remus's arms, seeking refuge from James's teasing.

"You can't keep running to Remus every time you have a problem." James teasingly huffs out, recalling the countless times Remus has scolded him for teasing you.

"Yes, she can." Remus asserts firmly, his voice carrying a hint of protectiveness.

"I promise he won’t bite." James continues, carefully adjusting his hands, one in front of the other, to let the spider crawl freely.

"Mate, leave it alone." Remus grumbles, adjusting your position so you nestle closer into him. Your cheek finds a comfortable spot on Remus’s shoulder. You consider giving James a defiant glare, but then remember he could easily toss the insect in your direction.

"I’m just teasing her. She knows I’m just messing around." James protests.

“James, leave her the fuck alone." Remus snaps sharply. James quickly complies, dropping his hand towards the floor and shaking off the spider. You watch with tense shoulders as the arachnid scurries off towards a dark corner. James glances nervously at Remus, guilt prickling in his stomach as he meets Remus's searing glare.

He knows better than to push Remus when he’s agitated, especially when it involves the girl he's so desperately into.

Several minutes passed in silence before James broke it.

"The spider's gone, love. You can get off his lap now. I'm sure Remus wants to go back to reading his book alone." He teases with a mischievous glint in his eyes, throwing a playful jab your way as he eyes how content you look being held by Remus.

"If Remus doesn't mind, I think I'll stay right where I am." You retort with a hint of defiance, glancing at Remus for confirmation. He responds by pulling you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around you, and giving James a pointed stare that silently asserts your decision to stay put.

That settled that.

[incognit0slut]

Hi author, can you write one where soft Dom Spencer (our beloved) is needy after work and tries to distract reader while she's cooking?

Heat of the Moment

warnings/notes: I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to write smut but I will write the build-up scene to it. So suggestive content (MDNI) with a sprinkle of fluff and a whole lot of Spencer being horny. (This is also very self-indulgent because I fucking love mac and cheese, and if any of you hate cheese in general, I’m afraid we can’t be friends)

Cooking isn’t exactly your best skill. Just follow the recipe, they say, and you do, although following step-by-step instructions isn’t the same as having a natural knack for it. No matter how closely you measure the spices or time in the oven, something always seems a bit off. A little bit overcooked. A little bit burnt. But Spencer, bless your boyfriend’s heart, never complains.

“What smells so good?”

You look over your shoulder to see him strolling into the kitchen, still in his work clothes. Loose dress pants, rolled-up sleeves, top buttons undone. The tie you help him put on this morning is missing.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know?” You say as you turn back toward the stove. You stir the creamy, slightly lumpy mac and cheese, the thick sauce clinging to the pasta in a way that looks almost perfect, if not for the slightly scorched edges.

“Do what?”

“Pretend it’s amazing,” you reply with a sigh. “I know it’s not.”

You feel his presence behind you. “I’m not pretending.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

He peers over your shoulder. “I don’t need to. I trust you.”

“You trust me too much.”

“Just as much as you do,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “You trust me too, don’t you?”

“Trusting you to carry a gun isn’t the same as trusting your taste buds,” you reply, slightly leaning into him. Your back lands perfectly against his chest. “One requires skill, the other… a strong stomach.”

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze as his laughter fills the small space between you. You like his laugh, it’s warm and infectious. It makes you smile even though you’re feeling a bit self-conscious about your cooking.

“Well, I’ve survived both so far. So I think I’m doing pretty well.”

You stare at the pot, watching the mac and cheese bubble slightly. “What do you think the chances are of us getting food poisoning from this?”

Spencer gently pulls your hair out of the way, his fingers lightly brushing against your neck. He leans in and presses a soft kiss. “I’d say the chances are low,” he murmurs. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. “Maybe, but I just don’t want to mess this up.”

His hands start to wander, tracing gentle patterns on your waist before sliding around to your stomach. “You won’t mess it up,” he assures you. He lets his lips trail down your neck. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

You feel a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. “Really?”

“It’s already good because you made it.”

You can feel his body pressing closer, his warmth enveloping as he lingers on the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Spencer, are you trying to distract me?”

You can practically feel the smile on your skin. He shakes his head, the slight roughness of his stubble brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “Not distracting, just appreciating.”

His denial is playful, his tone light, but his actions tell a different story. His hands continue their exploration, now slipping underneath your shirt. His palm is warm and slightly rough as it makes contact with your skin. He traces gentle patterns along your stomach, moving so slowly and as if he’s savoring every inch.

You feel your pulse quicken, each beat echoing in your ears. “Baby…”

“Hm?” he hums, and your breath catches when his thumb brushes just below your breasts.

“If you keep this up, there might not be any food for dinner.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You try to focus on the pot, where the sauce has begun to form a thicker layer at the bottom, slightly burned and sticking. But his touch makes it difficult to concentrate. "Unless you plan to feed us on kisses alone, I think we might need something more substantial too."

Spencer laughs softly, a low rumble of amusement that you can feel as much as hear. "I don’t know, kisses for dinner sounds pretty tempting."

"I’m afraid it won’t satisfy our hunger."

"I think it’ll satisfy mine just fine."

“Oh my god,” you gasp, catching on to the deeper meaning in his words. You tighten your grip on the wooden spoon as you resume your stirring. “Stop distracting me.”

If anything, he clings to you even more. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands travel down your stomach again, only this time, they linger at the hem of your shorts. His fingers play with the fabric, teasingly tugging at it.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

And then you feel it, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing against your back. It’s a firm, urgent presence, a hard line that aligns tightly against your own curves. The hardness of it distracts you even further.

“You’re making it really hard to cook,” you murmur, trying to sound stern but the breathiness in your voice betrays your growing distraction.

He slips a hand inside the waistband of your shorts while the other trace along your stomach. “I think we should forget about cooking for a while.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you try to argue, even as your hips instinctively follow his touch. “We need to eat.”

“But we could be doing other things,” Spencer whispers, nipping gently at your earlobe. His teeth graze your skin lightly before his lips close around it, tugging softly. The sigh you let out is shaky and breathless. The idea is tempting, dangerously so. The persistent heat from his hand, now tracing idle circles on your underwear, isn’t helping your focus.

“Aren’t you—” your grip on the wooden spoon loosens when he slips a finger over the waistband. “Aren’t you the one who… always says how our bodies need… what was it again?”

Spencer nods. “The human body need about 2,000 calories a day to function properly. But,” he continues, slipping another finger in. “We also need affection and touch for our emotional well-being.”

You swallow hard. “What else do we need?”

“Pleasure. Lots of it.”

You don’t know whether you should be laughing or not. His boldness is both shocking and strangely amusing. Spencer isn't the type to be straightforward when it comes to sex, but when he is, it's always intense. He's clingy, he craves attention, and even when his cheeks flush with embarrassment, it doesn't stop him. It hasn't stopped him in the past, and it's not stopping him now.

Your mind scatters as he starts pressing himself harder, slightly grinding behind you. And when he adds another finger in, then followed by another until all of his five fingers dive into your underwear, you know you’re already too far gone. You let go of your grip on the wooden spoon before it clatters inside the pot, reaching down to hold his arm to stop him.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” You breathe out heavily as you gently pull his hand out. “We should at least turn off the stove first.”

He grins, pulling away to turn off the burner. “There. Now, where were we?”

You finally turn to face him, your hands finding their way to his shirt. You grip onto the material. “I think you were about to prove a point about pleasure.”

His response is a soft laugh before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle when he touches you. He always is. His hands slides around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. You let your hand trail over his chest, up, up, up, until your fingers find the soft curls of his hair.

When he finally pulls away, he's smiling from ear to ear. "I think that's proof enough, don't you?"

You smile back, breathless and flushed. "Maybe," you reply, your fingers gently tugging at his hair. "But I might need a bit more convincing."

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "I can do that."

You can feel his hands tightening around your waist as he begins to kiss you again, deeper this time. It's all teeth and tongue, raw and hungry. The forgotten dinner on the stove barely registers in your mind. But with his hands and lips distracting you, you find it hard to worry about anything else.

[gloomwitchwrites]

They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.

ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!

While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings

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

John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)

John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.

He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.

He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.

You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.

He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.

“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.

“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.

At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.

“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”

You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.

“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.

“What?” you exclaim.

“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”

“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”

When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”

“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.

“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.

His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.

Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.

John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”

“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.

When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.

“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.

Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”

“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

“Aye.”

“And what did I say?”

“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”

You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.

“I want you,” you whisper.

John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”

John Price (wc: 420)

Price reclines in his office chair.

His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.

Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.

And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.

But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.

Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.

I’d have his babies.

Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.

Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.

He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."

When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."

You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.

"Heard what you said this morning."

"You did?"

"I did."

You take a shaky breath. "And?"

"Did you mean it?"

'Every word," you say automatically.

Fuck. He's done for.

Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.

Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.

"Show me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)

Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.

The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.

I want to have his babies.

He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.

“It’s not funny,” you snap.

“Oh, aye. But it is.”

“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”

You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You just did.”

“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.

Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.

But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.

And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.

His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.

“Sergeant.”

Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.

“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.

Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.

Privacy. Privacy with you.

That’s what Kyle needs.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)

Ghost is a patient man.

But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.

It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.

This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.

I’d have his babies.

Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.

Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.

So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.

"Stop moving."

"Simon."

His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.

"What are you doing?" you ask softly.

"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."

"Did you?"

"Is it true?"

Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."

"Mean it?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.

"Willing to show me?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then you're touching him.

The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado

@saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @lxblm

@ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow

@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

@lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez

@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @glassgulls

[acciotaitlynn]

╭──────────.★..─╮ Immobilized ╰─..★.──────────╯

⤷ sylusxfem!reader

⤷ 18+ sexual content. sylus ended up pretty soft. claiming/marking. kitten/sweetie/pet/a random baby bc it just felt right. fingering. vaginal sex. u kno he's cummin inside. based off sylus's immobilized card.

⤷ 3,058 words

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“Shh. Don’t move,” Sylus whispered with a smirk, holding a finger to his lips.

You took deep breaths, trying to quell the anxiety rising within you as your coworkers chatter filtered through the closet door. You were supposed to be enjoying the vast, icy expanse of the Arctic—not hiding in a closet with Sylus.

His claim of being here on vacation was flimsy at best, but it was clear he wasn’t going to share the real reason for his presence. You’d managed to keep him hidden from your team until now, but bringing him along to grab your things from the hotel room turned out to be a huge mistake.

When you heard the front door swing open, accompanied by the sound of cheerful voices, you instinctively pulled Sylus into the closet without a second thought. Now, you could see that too had been a mistake—having Sylus so close was unnerving, and your heart pounded so fiercely in your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

And to complicate matters further, the evol linkage binding the two of you had reappeared, and somehow you had inadvertently caused the distance between you to shrink. The cuffs barely allowed for a hand’s length between you now.

You weren’t sure if your current anxiety stemmed more from the situation outside the door or the proximity to Sylus. It was beginning to seem like the latter, especially as his deep, teasing voice murmured in your ear, “Just pretend you're a coat that doesn’t breathe or have a heartbeat. It should be easy.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and shoved his stomach hard. The feel of his abs beneath his thin sweater set your palms on fire.

He pressed you against the wall, chuckling as his fingers entwined with yours. “We've been stuck in here for a while now, kitten. I’m getting bored,” he said. You must have been playing a convincing coat, given that breath seemed to elude you entirely.

“Why don’t we play a little game?” Sylus drawled. You glared at him, pushing him harder this time, but it was futile; his grip only tightened. “You know, the more a snake’s prey tries to escape, the tighter it gets strangled,” he taunted.

You tried to keep your voice steady as you met his gaze. “Get off me Sylus. I’m not interested in playing games with you.” You hoped your voice didn’t betray your emotions.

“Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t really asking then, isn’t it?” he murmured, his breath ghosting down your neck, his lips nearly brushing your skin. “The rules are simple—if a single sound other than your words slips past those pretty lips—you lose.”

You knew that whatever Sylus planned to do to elicit those sounds from you would likely undo you completely, but you couldn’t stop yourself from replying; “Why are you assuming I’ll be the one to lose?"

His light chuckle sent goosebumps skittering across your skin. “Fair enough. Well then, sweetie—whoever wins gets to demand anything they wish of the loser,” he countered.

You didn’t like the sound of that one bit, yet you had to admit that you were growing bored too. Plus, the temptation to be even closer to the crimson-eyed man in front of you was irresistible.

Summoning your bravest facade, you looked him in the eye. “Well, are you going to get started?” you dared. You expected a witty retort, but none came. Instead, an undefinable emotion flickered in Sylus's eyes before his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss was seering, almost intimate, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were misreading it—after all, Sylus couldn't stand you. By now, you knew the passion behind his kiss was likely another one of his mind games. Even so, you found yourself arching into him, your tongue delving into his mouth to savor him completely.

The moment Sylus felt you kiss him back, his entire body tensed, as if he genuinely hadn’t expected you to respond to his touch. His hands released yours, cradling your face while his tongue danced with yours until you were breathless and delightfully lightheaded.

“Such a quiet little kitten,” he drawled. “It seems it will take more to make my new pet sing on command.” His words irked you, yet all you could do was look at him through hooded eyes, trying to catch your breath and anticipate his next move. He gently pushed your hair over your shoulder, trailing soft kisses along your neck.

Sylus was intoxicated by the way your eyes fluttered closed, your lips parting for a silent word. Was he just imagining it, or had you just mouthed his name?

“You know, animals are often tagged by their owners, to assert dominance and lay claim… I think I’ll put a little claim of my own on you, pet—right here where I’ll place your pretty little collar,” he murmured, his fingers lightly grazing your neck.

His possessive words sent a heated rush to your core, almost unbearably so, but you met his glare with a fierce gaze and replied in a low, viscous tone, “I will never belong to you Sylus. So you can discard that daydream.’ He just chuckled softly, then his lips were on you again, teeth, tongue, and lips working in harmony.

You wanted to fight him, to shove him away again—his possessive attitude and cockiness always got under your skin, and today it was even worse. Yet, despite your intentions, your eyes rolled back as you struggled to stay silent—a task growing increasingly difficult.

Sylus didn’t stop with just one mark. Once he saw that first bruise bloom on your skin, he was completely addicted. Your shirt was discarded roughly before you could even protest. He left marks everywhere, his mouth growing harsher as he sought to make each bruise darker, to linger on your skin longer.

Lust tinged your voice as you dreamily suggested, “I think it’s only fair that I get to mark you, too.”

You tried convincing yourself that you said it as a ploy to beat him at his own game. But deep down, you knew the idea of claiming him, even in a small way, was something you inexplicably craved, and that was what truly fueled your words.

This time, Sylus allowed you to push him away. “Sit,” you commanded, pointing to the floor with a tone designed to irritate him. You were rewarded when his brows arched, and his lips formed a frown. “Are you ordering me around?” he asked moodily. “Yes, you’re a freaking tree, Sylus, and I don’t plan on climbing you today, so sit down.”

Though the thought of climbing him wasn’t entirely unappealing...

Sylus shook his head, grinning as he settled down and stretched his long legs out on the floor. Before you could second guess yourself, you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and savoring the surprise on his face.

You decided to push further, sitting down on his fully erect cock. Sylus gritted his teeth as his head fell back and his eyes rolled shut. “Damn, kitten. You almost got me with that one... I didn’t think you could play so dirty.” You weren’t going to admit it, but you’d nearly lost your own composure when you felt his thick length press against your clothed pussy.

You pulled his shirt over his head, unable to resist tracing your fingers over the ridges of his abs, relishing the way they tensed under your touch. It felt as though you had discovered the world's most intoxicating drug in the texture in the texture of Sylus's skin. Your fingers explored every part of him that you could reach, rising higher and higher until your mind was consumed by him.

Sylus trembled slightly under your touch, his mesmerizing eyes tracking your every movement, unable to look away from the lust-filled awe in your gaze.

Awe? For him? It didn’t make sense—surely, if you felt any of the emotions currently swirling in your eyes for him, you would be able to resonate with him easily.

Sylus had never expected you to agree to this little game. In fact, he had intended it as a joke, a way to irritate you and stave off his boredom.

Well, his boredom had vanished, but now he worried about his ability to outlast you in this game. Every time you touched him or when his cock ground against you as you moved, or when you looked at him as though you couldn’t believe your luck that he was beneath you, Sylus had to suppress the sounds that threatened to escape his lips.

This was unraveling him just as much as it was unraveling you.

“Hmm, now where to put it,” you mused, making a show of surveying his skin before settling on a spot next to his collarbone. Your voice softened as you said, “This one is perfect.” His large hands gripped your thighs tightly as your lips pressed against your chosen spot.

The marks blossoming on his skin seemed to affect you just as deeply as they did him. Your hand tangled in his hair, tilting his neck to the side to leave your mark there as well.

Pulling back, you surveyed your handiwork, eyes catching on his perked nipple. You brushed your thumb over it, biting back a groan as you felt the the softness against your fingertip. You vaguely questioned what the heck you were thinking as you sucked the pink bud into your mouth, nibbling gently before soothing it with your tongue.

“Fuck. I think you just crossed the line into unfair territory, sweetie,” Sylus groaned through gritted teeth, his grip on you tightening almost to the point of pain. You reached around and unhooked your bra, revealing your breasts to him. “Well, we’ll just have to make it fair then, won’t we?”

Sylus’s eyes hungrily devoured the sight of you, flicking from your chest to your face as if trying to memorize every detail. His expression was one of disbelief as he sat motionless, the only movement coming from his chest as his breaths quickened.

Sylus initially thought it had to be one of your jokes, but he quickly realized it wasn’t when you arched your breast towards his mouth, whispering, “please, Sylus.”

A deep groan escaped him, uncontrollable as he heard your plea, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking you into his mouth. The notion of losing mattered little to him—not when your soft skin was between his teeth and your hands were fisting in his hair.

The moment Sylus groaned, a deep, loud sigh of relief escaped you, glad you no longer had to hold back. His fingers combed gently through your hair. “Well, it seems our little game has come to an end. I have to admit you were a worthy opponent... Have you decided what you want from me?” He was completely caught off guard when you nodded, softly pleading with him, “yes— please don’t stop.”

“There's no need to beg, sweetie,” he murmured. “I’ll be happy to coax those beautiful sounds from you whenever you want.” His mouth was on yours again in an instant. Both of you leaned into the kiss with such intensity that it felt like your lips might bruise, too.

Tongues and teeth clashed, producing hushed groans, with faces buried in each other's necks to muffle the sound as you ground hungrily against one another.

Relief washed over you as the tv turned on in the next room, its volume loud enough to ensure that no one would hear the two of you now.

Sylus’s tone was soft, contradicting the rough way he pulled you up and pushed you against the wall, pulling your pants down to your thighs and bending you over.

He wasted no time, running his fingers through your wet folds, gathering your slick, and letting you watch as it trailed down his fingers. “So eager and ready for me,” he teased. “Why don’t we make a new bet? I wager that we’ll be able to resonate after I fuck all that hate you have for me out of your beautiful body.”

You arched your back even deeper, offering a silent invitation. “Shut up and do it, then,” you challenged.

His light chuckle ghosted over your ear. “It seems I haven’t quite tamed my pet yet. She’s still too fucking bratty,” he remarked. Without warning, he thrust his middle finger into your cunt, accompanied by soft squelching sounds with each deep movement of his hand.

You hoped the slaps he was laying on your ass weren’t as loud as they felt, but that worry was overshadowed by the intense mix of pleasure and pain he offered. With light pop, he pulled his finger out before adding another and delving back in roughly.

Sylus couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of your hungry pussy clenching his fingers tightly, eager to draw him back in—a promise of how good it would feel once he was finally inside you.

He occasionally pulled out to run tight circles over your clit, teasing back and forth until you were whimpering, your arousal coating his hand.

Quickly, he freed his cock, not bothering to fully remove his pants, and ran his swollen, leaking tip through your folds with a soft groan. His hips moved slowly as his cock glided over your soft skin, slapping it against your clit and rubbing your slick around messily.

He wanted to savor this, to take it slow and truly feel you—it had been so long since he last held you like this, and each moment felt precious and fleeting.

But the silent tears tracing down your cheeks, your body’s undeniable reaction to him, stirred something primal within him. The overwhelming need to bury himself inside you consumed him entirely.

“Sorry, kitten. I don’t think I’ll be able to be gentle this time.”

His cock pressed past your entrance, your body struggling to accommodate his massive length. “Too big, S-sy,” you gasped, and he relished in the new nickname. His free hand wrapped around your throat as he pulled you against him. “Deep breaths, sweetie. You’re doing so well for me,” he softly cooed, feeling your pussy tighten even more from his praise.

Sylus’s deep chuckle at your body’s reaction to his words sent goosebumps across your skin. “Oh? It seems the key to taming this kitten is praise. Your cunt just got so tight it nearly took half my cock,” Sylus teased, pushing in deeper. He buried his face in your neck again, stretching you slowly until he bottomed out, stifling a groan with a sharp bite to your skin.

You both stayed like that for a moment, him buried deep inside you while his hand absentmindedly caressed your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he tried to collect himself.

You closed your eyes, marveling at how perfectly his cock filled you up, the sensation transcending mere physical pleasure... It felt as though you were becoming one, your heartbeats and breaths synchronizing into the same rhythm.

He pulled out before slamming back inside you with force, his hips pounding vigorously. One hand reached around to circle your swollen clit while the other gripped your throat tighter, leaning your head back so your eyes met his. “I want to see every expression that crosses your face while I fuck you,” he demanded, holding you in place.

Sylus was utterly intoxicated by the look of adoration in your gaze and the sounds spilling from your lips as he took you. He silently vowed to have you again soon, no matter what, so he could hear those unrestrained, beautiful sounds as he took his time with you.

His orgasm was approaching embarrassingly fast, something that had never happened to him—your pussy just felt so unbelievably good wrapped around his cock that it was ruining him completely.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered incoherently, his voiced laced with pleasure. “You’re doing so good for me. Taking me so damn well... tell me how good my cock feels inside you, kitten.”

His thrust grew sloppy and erratic as he chased his climax; he needed you to cum with him—to feel your cunt pulse wildly around his dick as you came.

Soft whimpers escaped your lips as his hand gently restricted your airflow. “So, so good. Filling me up so perfect... Need you to cum inside, Sy.”

Those words unraveled him. His hips hammered erratically, lewd noises accompanying every deep plunge of his cock. Your eyes stayed locked on each other, both of you entranced and unwilling to look away.

Your hand tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck as he murmured heated praises into your ear—“So beautiful,” “Just like that, baby... Move against me just like that," "this pussy was made just for me,” and “cum for me, kitten. I want to see you cream all over my cock,” accompanied the worship of his lips and teeth on your skin.

“So fucking pretty covered in my marks,” he growled hoarsely, fingers pressing harder on your clit, his thrusts becoming almost too intense to bear.

You felt the familiar tension building, the coil tightening until his murmured “that’s it, sweetie” sent you over the edge.

The pleasure was blinding, and Sylus’s hand had to cover your mouth, muffling the scream of his name. His hips slowed before releasing copious amounts of cum deep within you with one final, hard thrust.

Your shared release trickled down your legs as you both came down from your highs.

Sylus rested his head on your shoulder, both catching your breath as his cock softened inside you. After a long while, he reluctantly pulled out, admiring the sight of your joint releases leaking from you, pussy still clenching at the absence of his cock.

Neither of you had noticed that the room beyond the door was now quiet and empty—you were too caught up in each other to realize your friends had left.

Sylus buckled his belt and helped you pull up your pants, steadying you on shaky legs. You looked up at him through sleepy eyes, your gaze so much softer than before the two of you had stepped into this closet.

Your voice was gentle as you held out your hand. “Let’s try to resonate again… I think you were right, I really feel like it could work this time.”

Sylus's gaze flickered to your outstretched hand and then back to your face.

“Not quite yet, sweetie. I think my pet requires a bit more training.” 

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Hi! I was wondering if you happen to have any advice for writing smut that *doesn’t* sound like a teenager posting to Wattpad? 😅

before we start, I’d like to say that these are all just what I personally do with my writing / how I personally write. these are not “rules” and if you disagree with them, that is totally fine!

also, there’s going to be explicit language moving forward so you may scroll past this post if (written) porn isn’t your thing! 18+ content ahead!

let’s begin with the focus of your story. instead of focusing solely on “the action”, you can try focusing on “the feelings” too. how the characters are feeling as they’re being intimate with each other. in other words, instead of focusing on the “physical” aspects, try focusing on the “emotional / mental” parts and the “feelings” too. so that your characters also feel something else that isn’t just shallow arousal (obviously, there’s nothing wrong with being so horny that nothing else matters, if that’s your goals then go for it, what I’m saying is sometimes sex can be about something else that isn’t merely the act of coupling, if you get what I mean? the “porn with feelings” tag on AO3 is there for a reason and, yes, porn with feelings can get you just as aroused if not more!)

for instance, instead of “he roughly shoved his entire dick inside her pussy, grabbed her boob with one hand, the other steadied her hip, before he started thrusting and moaning”. you could try “he wasn’t being gentle when he pushed his length inside, feeling her body yield and surrender, engulfing him in one confident thrust. with one hand on her breast, the other on her hip to keep her still, he began moving, making love and declaring to his wife his fidelity in an ecstatic moan.”

how you describe your characters’ private parts affects the mood / vibes your readers get from your work too. I personally prefer using “cock / cunt” to “dick / pussy” because for me, the first set of pairing sounds sexier, more raw and more “mature”, while the latter just gives off the vibes of horny and mindless teenagers instead, which might only be a personal opinion and preference of mine!

that being said, the trick is that you don’t always have to use the exact, direct words over and over again while talking about the genitals. using “cock” sounds sexy and all, but using the word “cock” three times in the same sentence can feel like you’re trying a little too hard to make your readers know this is smut. they already know. and they know what the character is stroking.

sometimes the trick lies in the implication and indirectness of how you describe your scenes. sometimes it sounds more hot to, instead of directly saying what the characters are doing, use implication and metaphor to tell your readers what the characters are doing.

for instance, instead of “he pushed his big, big cock inside her and felt the walls of her cunt squeeze his cock, so he stayed still for a while to savor the feeling of her cunt around his cock before he started moving his cock” you could say something like “he pushed himself inside her, feeling the warmth of her around his length and opting to keep still to savor as much as he could of her tightness before he started thrusting.”

or, instead of “his cock was so huge it made her mouth water” it could be “the promise of godhood between his legs elicited from within her the hunger she never knew existed”

yes, smut is about sex. but sex can also be about other feelings besides arousal. sex can be about vulnerability, the complete trust one gives their partner. it can be about surrendering and submitting yourself to someone. it can be about dominating and controlling someone. it can be about pain and betrayal. it can be about hatred. it can even be about grief and mourning. just in case you want to throw in some feelings or angst and in case you want to describe your scenes with something else that isn’t just mindless arousal.

(again, smut with nothing but mindless arousal isn’t bad. there’s nothing wrong with smut just being smut with no other feelings involved. so this isn’t me saying you have to throw some emotions and depth into your porn, obviously. smut can be just smut and that’s fun and hot enough, and if that’s your thing then you do you. I will always be rooting for you.)

the two most important things while writing smut — as well as anything else that isn’t smut — are 1.) write whatever you want for you and 2.) practice makes perfect.

keep writing. your smut doesn’t have to be perfect the first time you write it, and that’s okay. that’s normal. the most skilled writer out there started out terrible at what they wrote, but the nature of writing is that you get better the more you write.

the first smut I wrote was about 8 years ago and it was terrible. and that’s fine. I’ve come a long way since. the point is: keep writing and writing and writing and you will keep getting better and better and better.

keep writing whatever you want to write, and have fun, that’s the key.

[nhlclover]

BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION MATT REMPE

pairing: fem!reader x matt rempe

summary: matt makes sure to go all out for your birthday, hoping to make it one to remember.

warnings: sweet sweet fluff, reader not liking her birthday, brief crying (but out of happiness!)

wc: 1.4k

notes: fun little birthday celebration with matt :)

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, and before you’re fully awake, you feel the gentle brush of lips against your cheek, the warmth of a breath close to your skin. Blinking your eyes open, you see Matt’s face hovering inches away, his expression tender as he places soft, sleepy kisses along your forehead, down to the tip of your nose. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection.

Still half-asleep, you reach for him, pulling him closer, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the scent of him — a mix of his cologne and vanilla. You’re not entirely sure why he smells like a cupcake, but your sleepy brain doesn’t think about it much. The last thing you want to do is leave this cocoon, this perfect moment wrapped in Matt's arms. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you press your face into his shoulder, barely able to articulate anything beyond a soft, murmured, “Can't we just stay like this all day?”

You’ve never been one to celebrate your birthday with much fanfare. The thought of a day centered entirely around you has always felt a bit uncomfortable, and you’d rather let it quietly slip by with minimal fuss.

Matt chuckles softly, tightening his hold as if he, too, wants to savor every second of this peaceful morning. “That’s exactly why I planned something low-key, just the two of us,” he whispers, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. You can’t help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness. He knows you so well — how the attention of a big celebration has always made you feel slightly on edge, how you’d rather not be the center of it all.

As he pulls you a little closer, he murmurs, “I know you don’t like all the fuss… but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make today special for you.”

He presses a couple of kisses along your jawline, hands holding your frame tightly to his. Suddenly he pulls back as you let out a disappointed groan. “As much as I’d love to stay here all day… I actually planned something for you.” he says, his voice carrying the faintest trace of excitement, “And I put a lot of effort into it so you’re going to have to get up and at least see it once.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you out of bed, the world outside seeming less enticing than the warmth you were leaving behind. He wraps an arm around your shoulders as you shuffle down the hallway, staying snug in Matt’s hoodie you slept in last night. When you reach the living room, your breath catches.

The room is transformed. Streamers drape from every corner, a riot of colors filling the space, and a little banner in your favorite colors stretches across one wall, proudly proclaiming, Happy 22nd Birthday! Balloons in every shade are placed around the space, while small decorations and a few scattered confetti glitters on the coffee table. For a moment, you’re speechless, turning slowly to take it all in.

“Did you seriously do all of this?” you manage, looking at Matt, feeling almost shy.

“Of course I did,” he says, looking at you with a mixture of pride and a soft, almost vulnerable joy that takes your breath away. “Oh, you have to come see the best surprise.”

You follow him to the kitchen which is where you see a cake sitting on the counter. It’s a beautiful mess: the frosting uneven but clearly, painstakingly applied, a little lopsided, and decorated with a generous helping of sparkling sprinkles. He must have worked on it for hours, trying his best, determined to make it perfect just for you. The sight of it, so personal, so filled with love, tugs something deep within you.

The gratitude, the overwhelming sweetness of it all, builds so suddenly that you feel your eyes start to prick with tears. You try to blink them away, but it’s too late; Matt notices. His face changes, his brow furrowing as he steps closer, hands finding your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I…did I do something wrong?” There’s a thread of worry in his voice as he reaches up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the single tear that’s escaped down your cheek.

You shake your head, a tremulous laugh bubbling up. “No, no… it’s just… no one's ever done anything like this for me before.” You gesture around the room, the carefully decorated chaos, the little details so clearly made with you in mind. “All of this… it just means so much.”

Relief floods his features, and he pulls you into a warm, solid embrace. His hands press firmly into your back as if anchoring you to him. “Well, it's your birthday, and it only comes once a year," he says, his voice soft but steady, almost as if he’s saying it to himself. “So, of course I’m going all out. You deserve every second of it.”

You sink into his embrace, feeling the truth of his words settle around you like a warm blanket. The tears fall a little harder because of that — the sheer simplicity of being seen, of being loved without conditions.

You pull back, a smile breaking through the tears as you look up at him. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of emotion. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek, then another just shy of his lips. It’s a little kiss, but it carries all the gratitude, affection, and quiet awe you feel for him in this moment.

His eyes meet yours, his cheeks tinted a little pink as he grins back, clearly touched. “You’re so worth it,” he says quietly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward the cake. “Now, let’s eat some of this masterpiece, yeah? And then — you still have to open your present!”

You both settle at the kitchen counter, laughter filling the room as you cut into the cake, teasing Matt about the abundance of sprinkles. You take a bite, tasting the slightly sweet, perfectly imperfect frosting. It’s delicious, mostly because you know he made it himself. “Matt, this is incredible, thank you.”

As you savor another bite of cake, Matt fidgets slightly, his eyes glimmering with eager excitement. He clears his throat, before reaching into his pocket. “Okay,” he says, looking almost bashful, “now for the real present.”

Matt pulls a small, velvet box from his pocket and places it on the counter between you two. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look at him with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “Matt…” you start, but he cuts you off gently.

“Just open it,” he says, his voice soft.

You pick up the box, feeling a small flutter in your chest as you lift the lid. Inside, nestled in the soft fabric, is a gold charm bracelet with a single small charm dangling from it — a tiny, intricately detailed ice cream cone. You gasp softly, instantly remembering your very first date with Matt when you got ice cream, talking for hours until the diner had to kick you out.

“It reminded me of our first date,” he says, watching your reaction closely, “and every time you look at it, I want you to think about all the other firsts we’re going to have together.” He gives a soft smile. “And, I thought… maybe over time, you could add more charms. Little things that remind you of us — of things we’ve done together, memories we’ve made.”

His words settle over you, filling your heart in a way that’s almost overwhelming. Each little charm to come would be a reminder of this — of him, of this journey you were both on together.

You look up at him, feeling your voice catch slightly. “Matt, this is… it’s perfect. I love it,” you say, reaching for his hand. “Every time I look at this, I’ll think of you. Of us.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he gently fastens the bracelet around your wrist. “Good,” he says quietly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “That was the idea.”

You lean back, the weight of the bracelet on your wrist a reminder of everything Matt has done to make this day special for you, to help you enjoy your birthday again. As you look up at him, your heart swelling with emotion, you can’t help but smile.

You press another soft kiss to his lips. “I think this might just be my best birthday yet.”

[starsjulia]

superhero girlfriend

leah williamson x pregnant reader

a/n : i’m in rome and im dying from the heat, so i decided to write something about it. also sorry for how short it is…

warnings : none! (for once) just fluff.

Leah and Y/N strolled through the ancient streets of Rome, the summer sun blazing overhead. The city was alive with history, every corner steeped in tales of emperors, poets, and artists. But right now, the only story Leah cared about was the one she was writing with Y/N—their last holiday as a family of two before their little one arrived.

Y/N rubbed her growing belly, feeling the baby kick gently. "I think she likes Rome," she laughed, looking up at Leah with eyes full of love.

Leah grinned, her hand finding its familiar place at the small of Y/N's back. "Or maybe she’s just excited about the gelato we're going to get later."

The couple had spent the day exploring the lesser-known parts of the city, venturing beyond the usual tourist spots. They had wandered down cobbled alleys, discovered quaint little cafés, and marveled at hidden fountains that seemed to spring up like secrets only locals knew.

But now, as the afternoon sun beat down relentlessly, Y/N started to feel the weight of the day. The heat was oppressive, and her feet ached from the hours of walking.

"Leah," Y/N said, her voice tinged with exhaustion, "I think I need to sit down for a bit."

Leah looked around, realizing they had wandered far from the main streets. The area was quiet, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of the city. No taxis in sight, just the silent presence of old buildings standing guard over the narrow streets.

"Of course," Leah said softly, her concern evident. She scanned the area for a bench, but the nearest one was a good distance away. Not wanting Y/N to exert herself further, Leah made a quick decision.

Without a word, Leah bent down and gently scooped Y/N into her arms. Y/N let out a surprised laugh, wrapping her arms around Leah's neck as she was lifted off the ground.

"Leah! You don’t have to—" Y/N started, but Leah silenced her with a soft kiss on the forehead.

"I've got you, love," Leah said, her voice tender. "Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. It wasn’t just the romantic gesture that made her feel so loved, but the ease with which Leah did it—how natural it felt to be cared for by the woman she adored.

Leah began walking, her strides strong and sure, as she carried Y/N through the winding streets. Despite the heat, she felt a cool calm wash over her, knowing that she was doing everything she could to make Y/N comfortable. They passed by a few locals who smiled at the sight—a tall, athletic woman carrying her pregnant partner with such obvious care and love.

Y/N rested her head against Leah's shoulder, closing her eyes as she savored the moment. "You're my hero, you know that?" she murmured.

Leah chuckled, her breath warm against Y/N's temple. "I'm just doing what any superhero girlfriend would do."

Finally, they reached a main road where taxis were more frequent. Leah carefully set Y/N down on a bench in the shade before hailing a cab. She made sure Y/N was comfortable, fanning her lightly while they waited for the taxi to pull up.

Once they were settled in the backseat, Y/N leaned against Leah, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. "Thank you for today," she whispered. "I know it wasn't easy."

Leah wrapped an arm around Y/N, pulling her close. "It was perfect," she replied. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything. Besides, it's our last adventure before we become three."

Y/N smiled, placing her hand over Leah's, where it rested on her belly. "I can't wait to see what the next chapter holds."

As the taxi drove them through the ancient streets, the city of Rome seemed to blur into the background. All that mattered was the love they shared, the new life they were about to welcome, and the knowledge that, no matter what, Leah would always be there to carry Y/N through anything life threw their way.

[bbytamaki]

BLOW OUT YOUR CANDLES — eren yeager

genre: nsfw (mdni)

content: eren yeager x fem reader, always blk coded reader but anyone is welcome to read, pet names (baby, baby doll) throat fucking, rough sex but soft eren (ofc), mentioned fingering, consensual photography, whiny eren crumbs, not proofread (lmk if i missed anything!)

note: idk if i like this one but happy birthday to my sweetheart !! 🎂

the slices of cake on your nightstand with burnt out candles had been long forgotten by the time eren had gotten ahold of you.

eren’s large palm gripped your tear stained cheek while you laid on your back with your head hanging over the edge of the bed.

you’d only tried it a few times, but this had become one of his favorite positions that you’d suggested — he loved to fuck your throat up while he watched you cum on his fingers.

you were such a sweet girl letting him have his way with you for his birthday. his heart melted watching your eyes roll back and your neck and chin shine with your own spit. he watched his fingers glisten from your last two orgasms.

your whines reverbed around his length as his tip bruised the back of your throat. his pace was brutal — he could be so mean but always made you feel so good. eren wiped the tears from your face. “shhh, you’re a big girl, y/n. you can take it.”

eren’s praise made your heart flutter. you knew he was close when he slightly slowed down his thrusts. it was so typical of him to savor every moment. you tapped his arm twice to let him know you needed to breathe and rolled onto your stomach. eren couldn’t take it. you just looked so beautiful, even coughing while catching your breath after doing your best to take all of him. you sat up and rested comfortably on your knees.

eren’s hand roughly clutched your soft curls (which he proudly helped you wrap every night) and pulled your head back to look at him while he stroked himself above you. you kissed his hipbones and smiled up at him with those pretty eyes.

“my needy baby.” eren grunted and thrusted into his fist. his girl was so perfect for him. he wanted to love and cherish you forever.

his deep groans faded into quick, sharp whimpers as he neared his orgasm. the sounds he made were your favorite. who knew such a meanie could be so whiny?

you knew that despite how harsh he acted, he was weak for you and folded just by looking at you. the thought brought a smile to your face as you prepared your final move. eren’s jaw fell slack as you slowly leaned forward to kiss his tip. that was his pretty slut.

eren grabbed your chin firmly. “such a messy girl. want me to cum all on that pretty face, baby doll? gonna let me take a picture?” you continued with sloppy kisses around his dripping tip while never breaking eye contact.

“yes, please,” you held out your tongue for him. with a muffled moan, eren spilled sticky ropes of his cum all over your face. he reached clumsily for his phone and pointed the camera toward you. the flash temporarily blinded you, making you roll your eyes playfully.

after taking his picture, eren leaned down to your level. with two fingers, her slowly dragged his seed from your cheek and pushed past your lips. you flattened your tongue and let him massage the inside of your mouth. the taste of the two of you combined was something you’d never forget. eren finished by pulling you in for a long, slow kiss that made your body melt against his.

eren pulled away from your lips and quickly began to clean you up. after, he laid back in bed with you wrapped tightly in his arms. “do you know how much i love you baby?”

“you show me everyday but i’m not sure yet .”

eren nudged your shoulder playfully. “i mean it. you really made today special for me.”

“you know i’d do anything for you, ren. you deserve this.”

eren kissed your forehead and looked down at you with a mischievous smile.

“so are we going again?”

[hollowdeath]

i recently came across your blog and i’m literally in love

i’m here because i can’t stop thinking about (adult) soft dom harry that tries to stay gentle but can’t hold himself back :(( brainrot is real

honestly do what u will with this i’m just happy to share it

AAA now you're speakin my language here !!! i will GLADLYYY sit here all day n think abt this one…

content warning: smut!!!! oral sex, penetration, 18+

word count: 750

soft dom harry who wants to let you know he's in the mood by asking you if you'd like a back rub, a foot massage, anything where he can just get his hands on you…once he does he can't help but let his hands wander, his lips following soon after, and he'd quickly get carried away and have you covered in bites before you even realize it…

harry would be so eager to get your clothes off he'd nearly rip them off you as you giggle, telling him to slow down with a teasing voice. he'd be a bit ashamed at first, apologizing with a shy smile before being more careful with you, savoring the feeling of taking your clothes off of you. but if your panties are in the way, he feels no remorse in roughly ripping them off of you to get what he wants.

everyone already knows how i feel about harry and oral…he'll be soooo teasingly slow with you at first, loving the way you squirm and beg for more just before he completely loses himself in your pussy. he'll overstimulate you after you already came to the point of desperation, practically having to push him away from you just to get a moment of rest. he'd still want more, sometimes even convincing you to let him keep going despite your exhaustion. but it's okay because he lovesss to tell you just how much of a good girl you were afterwards, praising you endlessly while holding you close to him to calm down your trembling body.

or, if you gave harry oral, he'd hold your face with his hand as you got started. "so pretty," he'd tell you, encouraging you with his moans and praise. soon he'd get lost in the pleasure, his hand traveling from your cheek to your hair as he starts gently moving it out of the way for you. before long he has all of it completely wrapped around his hand, using it to push your head a bit faster and deeper onto him. his hips would thrust into your mouth out of desperation and cause you to gag. pulling your hair back, he'd carefully make sure you were okay, really okay, before pushing your mouth back onto his cock with the same force as before.

harry being afraid to hurt you as you adjust to his cock inside of you, carefully watching your facial expressions as he slowly pushes deeper into you, the hunger in him growing the longer he looks at you. after you start moaning, whimpering, grabbing for harry's shoulders, he knows you're enjoying yourself and starts to let his guard down, thrusting at a consistent pace before pulling you in for a heated kiss. from there he just falls apart, his grip on you bruising the skin, his thrusts aggressive and sloppy, his teeth sinking into your neck in the most vulnerable places. he's like an animal just chasing his high, using you for his pleasure.

you try not to whimper too loud because then harry comes out of his state of bliss, realizing how aggressive he's being with you before slowing back down. you'd always beg him please, please harry, it's okay, because you secretly love how overcome with lust he gets with you. but he really doesn't want to hurt you, so he tries to stay focused, but we know he just can't help himself…as soon as his eyes droop closed you know he's desperate again, burying his head in your neck as he practically growls into your skin. "fuck, [y/n], feel so good…"

it's not long before harry's pounding into you, waves of pleasure taking over his body. sweating, gasping for breath, hands digging into your hips as he warns you that he's about to cum. sometimes he's aware enough to pull out and finish on you, but other times he's truly so lost in the moment that he cums inside you, his hips flush with yours as you savor the sensation. though he's always a bit flustered afterwards, making sure to ask you plenty of times if you're okay, or if he hurt you, or if you need anything. once he knows you're good, he'll instantly start getting ready for round two because he just can't get enough of you.

[thankyouthankyouthankyou for sending this in, this is pretty much exactly what all of my daydreams of harry consist of lol]

[sad-not-glad]

Just some ramblings

I love getting to see Bucky post recovery in fics. Getting the happy slow life he deserves, pretty little housewife (you) and a tiny chubby-cheeked baby. White picket fence, holidays, Barnses family reunions, because we all know Bucky would adore that. Welcoming a cat and another one of his mini-me’s, maybe two.

But what about after that? His oldest’s graduation, his youngest’s? I want Bucky who struggles to watch his babies move out, I want Bucky who is devastated to watch them leave but even happier to see them thrive. What about when he becomes a granddad?

So here is old man Bucky becoming a granddad after getting the domestic bliss he deserves.

It’s his birthday. What number, Bucky didn’t know, he stopped keeping track too long ago. Far more important was the roudy group of his grown children, scattered around the living room with their partners and childhood friends, extended family and the like. It’s been nothing short of perfect, great food and nice weather with all his favorite people shoved into one house.

All except for one, that is.

‘Little’ Eliana, the youngest of the bunch and the only girl. Even though she’s a happy and healthy 25 years old, she was still doted on by all the men, brothers and Bucky alike. She was the princess, the baby, the littlest duck in the row- despite being married for 3 years already. So it really shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was to him, but Bucky still saw a grinning little girl with dirty hands when he looked at her. Eliana arrived with husband in tow fashionably late, her present tucked away to the back to the pile amidst the chaos of being greeted. Bucky, being the birthday Dad, got the first and longest hug naturally. One that he savored, tucking his little girl into his arms and holding her close. He still couldn’t believe where life had taken him, finding his soulmate and settling down. Getting to watch his outstanding children grow and prosper in ways he never imagined, everything he never believed he deserved. But it was his anyways, and he had no idea just how much more amazing his life was about to become.

Every year Bucky insisted he didn’t need any gifts. He was the happiest he could imagine with just his family, all safe and sound in the same house. Yet every year, he got to unwrap a mounting pile of presents that just keep getting better. So far he got a new watch from his son, which was amazing. Something he had been really needing too. A cat tree from the other son, two new mugs, the softest blanket he had even felt. Slowly the pile went from huge, to decent, until there was only one left. Eliana’s, a tiny little black box topped with a cute golden ribbon. She always had adored her father’s arm, hours of her childhood spent marveling at the metal. Now the fascination presented itself in his gift wrapping, or the black wedding band on her finger. A mimic of the engraving he had done when he married you.

She passes it over with a nervous smile, immediately curling back into her husband’s side. Bucky took the gift with a grin and a thank you, settling back and carefully peeling away the paper. You’re watching over his shoulder when he opens the lid, tossing it to the side and revealing the contents within. A little folded square of fabric. He pulled it out, confusion clear on his face as he turned it over. He unfolded it, taking a second to process just what he was looking at.

A tiny baby onesie, and written across the front was ‘I’m not spoiled, my Granddad just loves me”. He blinked, turning it over in his hands and re-reading the words, then reading them again. You had already put together the dots, leaping from your spot next to him with a surprised shriek. For Bucky, it was taking a while to really set in, eyes locked on the little outfit in his hands.

His daughter was…pregnant?

He was going to be a grandfather?

…He’s going to be a grandfather!

The tears are falling before the poor man even realizes he’s crying. Because after everything he had done, all the pain and suffering caused, Bucky was lucky enough to now be a grandfather. He looked up when legs appearing in his blurry vision, and there she was. The girl he had read stories to every night, kissed her boo-boos and held her hand. The girl who he raised into a wonderful young woman, smiling at him with giddy excitement. Excitement over having a child of her own, creating her own family to love and cherish. His chest was practically bursting with emotions, all of them pouring out with his tears and laughter as he stood to sweep her in his arms again.

And needless to say, the onesie spoke the truth. If you think this man spoiled his children, it’s a whole other ball game with his grandkids. His wallet is their atm, stealing them away for weekends with Pop-Pop, giving them memories to cherish forever. He cries holding his first granddaughter after she’s born. He cries when the second and third come, and he’s inconsolable when your eldest son reveals the name of his own firstborn. Andrew Bucky Barnes, the fifth grandchild he gets to welcome.

Pop-pop who picks up his kiddos early from school just because he missed them

Pop-pop who never misses a thing. Holidays, birthdays, graduations.

Pop-pop who always has the best stories, the warmest hugs, and the fluffiest pet cat.

Pop-pop who all his grand-babies adore just as much as he adores them.

[gg-neptune]

Bad Day

A night with Sev after a bad day. Hope you like it. :) Sorry for grammar errors (I love this pic)

Pairing: Severus x Reader

Words: 0.7k

Warings: None

It had been a long day for the both of you

Severus has had multiple students' potions go wrong leaving his classroom a mess and the poor man tired beyond belief

And you had so many disrespectful students you couldn't even recall them all as you thought back about the day that had just occurred

Not to mention a student had managed to somehow set one of your curtains on fire, meaning you now needed a new curtain

Without even thinking as soon as the last student left your classroom you gathered your belongings and headed to Severus’s chambers promptly locking the door behind you leaving a note to those that had detention to wait till tomorrow or something

You didn’t really care what they did at this point you just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep

As you were walking to Sev’s chambers in the dungeons you passed his classroom which was already locked

When you arrived, you decided to at least be polite and knock on his door

“What do you- oh. Hello there.”

You pushed past him ignoring his snappy tone before he realized it was you

You forced the door closed before you wrapped your arms around him clinging to him as if you let go, he wouldn't be there anymore

It took a while before you let go but when you finally did you took notice of the tired expression on his face

“Bad day,” you asked tucking some of his raven hair behind his ear

He simply shook his head before leaning down to give you a gentle kiss

“Me too”

Both of you were still in your teaching robes and after decided to not go to the Great Hall for dinner you both just took a quick shower together

It wasn't your room, so you didn’t have any of your clothes, so you were forced to wear his

Not that you minded

You grabbed the giant blanket off the side of his couch and draped it over yourself curling into a ball savoring it’s warmth as he observed you

“Comfy?”

“No.”

He gave you a questioning look until you reached your arms out inviting him to join you and of course not being able to say no to you he did

His big arms wrapped around you tightly as you settled against his chest one hand pressing against his chest and the other going up to cup his face

“As I am enjoying this, if I stay here any longer, I will not get up,” Severus said gently into your hair. His tone was sad almost like he regretted it.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You need to eat, love.”

You groaned in displeasure not wanting to let you of your human body pillow

“I know. I’m so evil. What do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” you claim as you cling to him tighter refusing to let him get up. Even if it was for a good reason.

“Hmmm. Ok.”

Suddenly his arms tighten around you, and he hoists you up carrying you with him to his mini kitchen.

You simply accept this change instead of trying to fight something you know you’ll lose and snuggle closer to the man.

“I’ve got some uh… chicken wings?”

“You eat chicken wings?”

“No, I don't know why they're here. I did not buy these.”

You giggle slightly as you look at the box of frozen chicken wings.

“How about we just tell Dumbledore your unwell and I need to take care of you, and I get some food from the Great Hall for us?”

The man just stared at you still holding you in his arms. 

“Or not.”

Eventually he decided to just go steal food from the Great Hall. He returns with two plates full of food.

“Thank you Sev.”

“‘Course.”

You sit down on the floor and eat at the coffee table in his living room

Once you are both satisfied you store whatever is left over and resume your place on the couch

He seems much happier since he’s been with you tonight

You know you are

You gently ran your thumb over his soft skin as he hummed in content as he tried to relax a bit 

His arms felt safe and secure as if it was the safest place in the world

For you it probably was

You mindlessly began to play with his dark hair 

Until you heard a soft snore

You turned your attention to his face only to notice he had fallen asleep

Gently you wrapped your arms around him falling asleep as well grateful to have him by your side

[luv4fushi]

hi!! just wanted to say i love your works sm <3 i was wondering if you can do more megumi smaus or drabbles they’re too cute and i love the way you write him tysm!!

sorry this took forever! delivery is here ~~~

all mine

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s not like megumi is incapable of showing emotions, it’s just that he absolutely sucks at it.

content: jealous megumi, shibuya never happened 🙏 life is good, he’s literally SO whipped for you, established relationship, fluff, aged up!megumi (17/18), word dump (not proofread)

click on my masterlist for more!

“where else did you get hurt?” megumi is sat in shoko’s office chair, rolled in from the room over.

you’re wrapped in bandages from your waist-up, a gnarly gash waiting for shoko’s healing hands. you have on a wide grin contrary to the injuries littering your body.

“nowhere else,” you say, “i promise.”

megumi frowns and gives you a slight glare. he looks you up and down—as far as you’ll let him with the blanket covering you—and sighs. “you need to be more careful.”

“i know,” you say, drawing out the syllables in hopes of calming him down. “yuji was there, though.”

his frown deepens. “it’s not like i don’t trust your strength or yuji’s… i just can’t believe you got so roughed up by a grade 2 curse.”

you roll your eyes. “i made a few mistakes. that’s my bad, dad.”

“shut up,” he mutters. he brushes his thumb against your lower lip, wiping away the crusted blood.

“i’ll be more careful next time,” you whisper, savoring the small acts of intimacy with him. you don’t get them as often as you’d want, so you want to hold onto this moment for a little while longer.

shoko is able to clean you up with her reversed curse technique. she walks into the room with several apologies leaving her lips, telling you that she’d been preoccupied with some other patients. she fixes you up quickly and offers you and megumi some privacy.

“i don’t think i need these bandages anymore.” your fingers twitch, itching to remove the cloth.

megumi immediately stands, his slender fingers coming into contact with your bare skin. you feel him freeze up next to the bed and you look up at him with questioning eyes.

“this isn’t your sweater,” he says with a scrunch of his nose. “it’s not mine, either.”

“it got cold,” you explain, “so yuji gave me his sweater. he thought i was dying so we figured i should go out warm instead of freezing my ass off.”

he taps you on the nose disapprovingly. “you’re an idiot.”

your lips purse and you swat his hand away. “i nearly died and that all you say?”

megumi ignores you, not that you notice—you’re too busy trying to strip off the bandages clinging to your rips—“yuji gave you his sweater?”

“yeah!” you nod, unaware of the rising tension in the air. “oh! i should wash it and return it.”

megumi zeros in on the clothing hugging your body. it’s a grayish pink hoodie with a fading logo on the front. it’s not part of your closet and you’d never wear something like that. something ugly lumps in his throat and he swallows it back.

“take it off.”

you look at him with wide eyes. “sorry?”

“the sweater. take it off.” he points at your chest.

your body heats up, embarrassed. “i… i’m not wearing anything underneath. my shirt was soaked with blood so i…”

megumi blinks rapidly and looks away, the redness creeping down his neck. “how could you go and get yourself so hurt like that?”

he takes a step back and gives himself enough space to slip his sweater off of his body. it’s black, like everything in his closet, and smells like the body wash he uses. he holds it out to you and you take the piece of clothing with hesitant hands.

“wear this once we take off these bandages, okay?” he says as he helps you peel them off.

once your wound is out in the open again, you realize how amazing shoko’s technique is. she’s one of the few sorcerers than can do reverse curse technique, so it’s not like you get the chance to see it every day (and you don’t get hurt badly enough to need her help). however, she isn’t able to completely heal your injury. you’re left with a scar deeply embedded into your skin.

“oh,” you breathe out when you notice the raised bump. “it’s sort of ugly.”

megumi cups your chin. he’s made himself comfortable on the edge of your hospital bed, his weight making the mattress dip slightly. he guides your face to face his own and presses a small kiss to your forehead.

“that doesn’t take anything away from you,” he mumbles shyly. “you’re still beautiful.”

“thank you,” you say, eyes dropping to your fisted hands.

“let’s get that sweater off of you, yeah?”

you laugh despite the rigidness prevalent in your bones. “what’s the big deal? it’s not that dirty.”

megumi almost scowls. “wear mine.”

“okay,” you say with a pout.

if it had been a year ago, megumi would’ve blushed profusely and turned away as you pull yuji’s hoodie over your head. now, he simply bites his tongue when you slip on his sweater with ease. megumi’s scent engulfs your the moment the soft cloth hugs your body. it’s still warm from his body heat.

“i should wash yuji’s stuff and return it later,” you mutter out loud.

“i’ll do that,” megumi interrupts, snatching the hoodie from your hands. “you’re hurt so don’t even think about getting up.”

“shoko just healed me,” you whine petulantly. “you’re being too dramatic, megumi.”

“i don’t care,” he replies with downturned lips. “i hate when you’re assigned to something without me. you always get hurt.”

you raise your brow and flick his forehead. “so do you, megumi.”

“not nearly as bad as you,” he shoots back. he gingerly pushes back your hair from your face.

“it was my fault,” you admit sorely. “yuji knows what he’s doing… i should’ve listened.”

megumi pushes your shoulder down so that you’re laying plush against the soft mattress. your head is propped up by a feathery pillow.

“he’s really cool, you know?” you continue, breaking up the silence in the room. “i think i would’ve died if it wasn’t for him. he’s a lot stronger, obviously. i thought i’d be fine going against his wishes, but i guess i overestimated myself.”

megumi’s eyes sharpen intensely. you know his anger isn’t directed at you because if it was, he’d be avoiding you (it’s a bad habit of his that you two still need to work out). you’re not quite sure what exactly he’s mad at, considering you’re not the reason why his face keeps souring.

“i would’ve kept you safe,” he mumbles out.

you giggle and take his hand into your own. “i know, baby. don’t blame him. it was me.”

“no it wasn’t.” megumi lets you play with his fingers as he speaks. “he’s basically a special grade sorcerer. you’re a grade 2 sorcerer. he should’ve taken precautions.”

“i’m fine,” you insist. “it wasn’t his fault.”

“why’re you taking his side?” megumi blurts out before he can stop himself. he shrinks into himself and pulls his hand back. “i mean—i don’t get why you’re so adamant about protecting his image. you got hurt and nearly died. i’m not doubting any of your abilities, but you know that you’ve only been here for a year.”

you swallow your words. megumi isn’t wrong—you’d been scouted not too long ago. megumi had been your main partner for a majority of your missions, which had sped up your relationship with him. everyone had been quite surprised when you two announced that you were in a relationship. your improvement had been steady, but slower than most. even now, you feel burdened when you’re compared to gojo’s other, more successful students.

“i don’t want you getting mad at your friend,” you choke out. you’ve never liked it too much when megumi scolded you, so you definitely don’t want him angry at his close friend, knowing how distant he can get when he��s mad.

he takes a deep breath and a soft smile appears on his face. “i’m not mad at anyone, stupid. i’m just… i don’t know. i don’t like you being so close to him.”

“what?” you tilt your head, thoroughly confused. “it was for a mission—”

“i know,” he says, and he sounds exasperated. you can’t help but stifle a giggle as he continues, “but you’re so… you’re so smart and beautiful and i wish i’d been there to give you my sweater instead.”

you can see the tips of his ears get pinker and pinker with each word that leave his mouth. your eyes crinkle up when you realize why he’s upset.

“it’s stupid,” he groans, throwing himself into your chest. his position is awkward, but not uncomfortable. his body weight presses you down like a blanket. “i shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially not when you’re half dead.”

you pinch him before wrapping your arms around his neck. he nuzzles into your body like you two aren’t in one of shoko’s treatment rooms.

“i’m not half dead.”

he hums dismissively and you can feel the vibrations of his voice. you take your fingers through his raven locks of hair, breathing in his familiar smell. it smells like home, even though you haven’t actually been there for a long time. megumi has abandoned his spot on the edge of the bed and is basically cuddled up with you at this point.

“i’m just,” he clicks his tongue, “just annoyed.”

“are you jealous?” you say, amused.

you feel him stiffen in your arms. “no.”

“you sure?”

“no.”

“so you’re jealous…?”

“a little.”

“yuji knows we’re together,” you attempt to explain. “so there’s no need to feel like that, megumi.”

“i know,” he says, voice muffled from his face in your neck. “but it still bothers me.”

“i’m all yours.”

“yeah…” megumi grumbles. “i’ll be the only one giving you my sweaters from now on.”

꒰ ♡︎ ꒱

“and what else did you do?” megumi has his face propped on his hands, sitting across from you in the dining hall. he’s got an enamored look on his face, his eyes softening tremendously. if anyone sees him like this, they’d make fun of him for sure.

“we went to the arcade! i was so bummed when you couldn’t come ‘cause of that stupid mission,” you exclaim, talking with your hands and making big gestures, “because you would’ve gotten me so many prizes!”

he nods, his attention fully on you. the cafeteria is empty for the most part—only a few of the first years waddling around curiously. gojo seems to favor the older students more; he doesn’t guide them as much as he had with you and the others.

it’s nearing dinner time. you’d been out and about with a few students of the graduated class all day while he’d been exorcising a nasty curse a few blocks away. he had taken care of it quickly, but felt a little intruding to invite himself on the get together so suddenly after having to cancel last minute.

“i got this!” you shove a stuffed plushie at him. it’s a black cat with a lopsided body from its poor filling. “it looks like you, doesn’t it?”

he throws you a “are you serious?” look, but allows you to have your fun anyway. “i don’t really see it.”

“yuta got it for me,” you say with an excited glint in your eyes. “he won it on his first try!”

megumi’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek. “oh?”

“he saw how much i wanted it,” you ramble on, unaware of megumi’s change in demeanor. “it was mainly ‘cause it looked like you, so he promised me he’d get me one if i bought him food.”

megumi nods, slower this time. “i see. anything else?”

“oh!” you nearly jump out of your seat. “i grabbed us matching keychains at the store i really wanted to go in. remember? the one we saw last week? you said we couldn’t go in ‘cause gojo needed us.”

he feels a pang of irritation bite his ribs. he’s been wanting to take you to that store for a while now, but his schedule isn’t the most open. he’s the closest thing gojo has to a successor of some sort, so he’s usually bombarded with missions from the higher ups.

“you get badtz maru and i get kuromi,” you say with a huge grin on your face.

megumi melts. “thank you. i love it.”

“i wish i got to meet yuta and everyone else when you all met…” you pout. “everyone is so cool… especially maki! it’s no wonder nobara adores her. yuta is so nice, too! he’s wonderful.”

“right,” megumi says, jaw clenching. “do you tend to find older boys more fun to hang out with?”

your smile drops. “what?”

“am i not fun?”

“megumi, don’t be ridiculous,” you say through bright laughter. “i would’ve hung out with you all day if you hadn’t been busy.”

“yuta is real cool, right?”

you playfully roll your eyes. “megumi! i’m serious when i say that nobody is cooler than you. i never got the chance to get close to any of the older students before they graduated so i was just really happy they invited me.”

megumi seems to be content with your statement. his shoulder relax and he regains that half-lidded expression on his face.

“did you do anything else fun?”

your face lights up with a mischievous tint. “i got a shirt that says ‘i love my boyfriend’ with your picture on it.”

megumi sighs, but his eyes are full of glee. “i need to stop being so bothered when you’re with other guys.”

“right,” you tease. “i’m yours.”

“all mine.”

a/n: this was really dialogue heavy but i think it’s still a fun read and i hope u enjoyyyyyy!!!!! i love me a jealous megumi bc he would be SO emotionally constipated abt it LOL

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 37 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

You linger a little longer in the bathroom than John after your bath, performing those obligatory feminine tasks. Hair. Moisturizer. Nails... You are extra attentive to these things here, where personal appearance seems absolutely paramount. 

When you walk out to join him, wrapped up in your fluffy white hotel robe, you find him sitting in one of the chairs with his back to you, looking out the window at the city below. Cars flit past, people mill on the sidewalks. Manhattan never truly sleeps.

You lean your hip against his shoulder; automatically he reaches for you, his fingertips sliding up your thigh beneath the robe, making you shudder with the sweet thrill of his light touch tickling your skin. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring it. It takes you a while to notice he’s holding a little black box, turning it in his other hand. 

You’re not sure why the sight of it makes your heart sprint in your chest. 

“When the Camorra come…” He pauses with a long, tired sigh. “I want you to wear this.” 

He flips open the box with his thumb, extending it towards you without really looking at you. 

The object inside is bright and shiny, sparking blue fire in the low light. 

Your heart steps to the edge of a precipice and flings itself into a swan dive–you don’t know if rocks or water await below.

“Is that…an engagement ring?”

It’s a deco white gold setting adorned with a substantial–but not obscene diamond. You realize the filigree shapes are leaves and flowers–something that would become a nature girl like yourself. 

“Technically.” 

He doesn’t sound…happy. 

“In our world wives have standing; girlfriends are just fodder. I want them to know I’m serious about your safety.” 

His meaning dawns on you–and suddenly you’re not terribly happy either. 

“You want to get fake engaged?” 

“I won’t pressure you into something more than that right now, y/n. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” 

You realize the source of your own annoyance is that for a fleeting moment you’d thought it was real–and goddamn you for a fool, maybe he finally has truly fucked your brains out, but you know you would have said yes. 

“Where…did you get this?” you ask, looking at the little ring with all its grandiose meaning. It suits you to a T. He’d put thought into this…and it feels off. 

He’s quiet for a long time, before he finally admits, “In the antique shop, in Clear Forks. It made me think of you.”

You close your eyes at hearing this, suddenly dizzy. “When?” you ask, barely able to lift your voice over a whisper.

“You know when,” he answers, matching your volume. 

You think he maybe means in the interim when he’d locked you up like a princess in the tower, after your magnificent fight. Little did you know, that things had yet to really go to hell. “Were you…going to ask me for real?” You’re not sure why your eyes are suddenly stinging with tears. 

“I’m good with vows, y/n. Absolutes. The rest…has always been hard for me. I thought…that I was never a better man, than when I was a husband. I thought that was the man you deserved–the man I’d forgotten how to be. I thought I could find him again, if we…” He cuts himself short, squeezing the little box in his hand. You hear it creak in protest. “But now I see how selfish that idea was.”   

Maybe you should be relieved, that he decided against trying to bully you into a legally binding union with him–but as it stands now…it hurts, that he changed his mind. What a conundrum you find yourselves in. How things have changed, since he locked you up that day.

“Oh.” 

There must be something in your voice, because he finally looks up at you. “Honey…please don’t be sad.”

“I’m…I don’t know what I am,” you admit, making to go to the other chair. But he grabs you up before you can run away, depositing you across his lap. 

“I’ve hurt your feelings.” 

“Maybe?” 

You’re relieved that he’s arrived in this state of mind. You really are. It’s just…complicated.

If he had sprung this on you after you’d been isolated in the bedroom for days on end, pining for him, certain you’d ruined everything… Oh. What a coup indeed. You might have agreed then too, but certainly not for the same reasons.

Or were they?

Can you trust your own judgment when it comes to this man at all?

“I’m just…trying to protect you.” 

In that moment you’re not sure if he means from the Camorra, or himself.

“I get that.”

“Then…?”

“I don’t know…” you sigh, snuggling under his chin, and you’re not lying about that. You’re tired, too tired to process this right now. “Will you hold me?”

He says nothing, just wraps his arms more snugly around you, and you watch the nighttime goings-on of New York out the window from the safety of your crow’s nest, together.

***

“What a lovely ring,” says Winston, seating himself beside you on the roof, Dog at your feet. You’ve taken to wearing it early so everyone can get the appropriate eyeful–apparently assassins are terrible gossips in their off time. And maybe Winston notices it, because you’re glaring at the damn thing like it owes you money. 

You just can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe it’s not such a big deal to John, because he’s been married before…but this is all new to you. You’re not the kind of girl who’s ever gotten caught up in worrying about marriage, or weddings, but this has unexpectedly hit you in a tender place. 

The decidedly tinny voice of reason inside you assures you that it would be bat fuck crazy to marry John Wick, after everything he put you through. But your heart? The heart wants what the heart wants, and that bitch is loud.

Maybe the trauma of all these extreme circumstances has simply fried your brain, made you want to cling to the man who seems like a safe shelter right now. 

But it occurs to you on reflection that maybe, John’s obsessive brand of love is what you’ve wanted all along. To be the object of his devotion, even to the point of madness–it ticks some primeval box deep inside your brain, and you wonder if a part of you somehow knew all along. You like it. You thrive on it. When you love someone you give them everything. Why should you settle for anything less on the other side, the way you always have, your whole goddamned life?

When your parents split and started new families it felt like they abandoned you. You went from being their perfect little darling to a mistaken product of a previous marriage.  Your mother would insist with an oblivious laugh that you seemed so self-sufficient she didn’t feel like she needed to take care of you anymore. That wasn’t how it felt to you, while your little world crumbled around you, and you know deep down your need to be liked by everyone is undoubtedly tied up in this somehow.  

Your need to be loved by John? For better or worse…it’s the air you breathe. How sad, how paltry a nice normal love would seem, after this. Maybe that’s not healthy–but it’s your truth. 

No other man will ever do for you, after this.  

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

“Are congratulations in order?”

“Sure.” 

You’re not sure if Winston is in on the ruse or not–it’s funny, in this world in which you’ve been told to trust no one, you find it hard to lie to this elegant old man. Maybe you have daddy issues too.

“I see our Jonathan’s tendency to monosyllabic conversation has rubbed off on you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sitting up in your seat, trying not to appear like a sulky teenager, sure you’re failing utterly. “It’s just complicated. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about the sculpted figures in the molding in the lobby, they’re very interesting.” 

Always keen to chat about his design choices in his beloved hotel, he proceeds to tell you all about it.

[winterrrnight]

HI BAE!!!!!!! CONGRATS ON 600!!! 🙌🏼💓💓

go on without me - 16 + 21 with rafe🤭🤭🤭🤭

ahh thank you so much sweet abi!! I'm so sorry it took me so long, I just wasn't feeling satisfied with what I was writing :( I hope you like reading this! but please feel free to not read this if you aren't comfortable w the warnings given :)

protective

PAIRING: toxic!dark!rafe cameron x gn! musician!reader

SUMMARY: rafe doesn’t like another man touching you, not even as much as talking to you or looking at you.

WARNINGS: dark content! minimal swearing, established relationship, slight use of nicknames like babe, jealousy, over protective & possessive rafe, canon!rafe, toxic!rafe, threats to kill, allusions to anxiety and being scared, and kinda shitty writing (??) (please please let me know if something should be added!!!!)

EDITH SPEAKS: this is very, very new for me. this is my third attempt at this fic, the first two just didn’t turn out how I wanted, and the best approach just felt like dark!rafe. this is me basically exploring my writing and trying out new things and testing myself, so if it’s not as good as the rest of stuff you may have read, I’m really sorry, I’m a beginner 😭😭

please please heed the warnings, and it may not be as dark as some other stuff on here, it felt pretty dark while writing, and if at any moment you feel this isn’t for you please feel free to click off.

moreover, if I am being honest here, you might have read a lot of rafe fics based on this idea/prompt. so please don't think I copied someone off for this, this is completely my own creation.

and if you liked this, please please share your feedback with me, and reblog it to support my content <3

PROMPTS REQUESTED: “Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” “No we don’t – oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.” & “You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!”

600 followers celebration (now closed!) || navigation

Everyone around you cheers out loud, glasses of champagne raised in the air as huge grins form on everyone’s faces. Your new single – after a break of over three years came out today, and you have already received an overwhelming amount of support. You’re in your studio, celebrating with your team and your amazing boyfriend.

“Congratulations babe,” Rafe smiles as he hugs you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You grin at him, hugging him back even tighter as you mumble a ‘thank you’.

You all celebrate for some more time, drinking fancy champagne, eating food, and taking pictures to savor the moment.

You, Rafe, and Jim, your producer, are just talking at the side when you hear your name being called. You turn to see it’s Saylor, who is one of the interns at the record label you are signed with. Your single was the first project he worked on.

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling as you approach him.

“Congratulations on the release,” he smiles, and gives you a small hug. You gladly hug him back, a grin on your face.

“Thank you Saylor,” you smile. “You were absolutely great for your first project,” you say. “I was actually asking Jim if you’d like to continue working for the upcoming singles too,”

Saylor’s lips are pulled in a huge grin as his eyes light up. “You’re serious right now?”

You chuckle as you nod your head. “Yes, of course! I would love for you to be able to gain as much experience as you can,”

Saylor absolutely can’t contain his excitement as he pulls you in for another hug. You are caught off guard but gladly hug back, chuckling a little as you do so.

“Thank you so much,” he smiles. “Seriously, it means a lot to me,” he says, a certain spark in his eyes.

“Of course, a talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste,” you say.

His smile doesn’t falter as he speaks again. “Can I get a picture with you, if that’s not an issue?”

“Oh of course not!” You say, turning to look at Rafe. “Rafe?” You call out.

He breaks from the conversation he was having with Jim and walks up to you. “Yeah babe?” Saylor passes him his phone and asks him to take a picture of you two.

Saylor stands next to you as his arm wraps around your waist, maybe a little too tighter than it should be but you don’t really say anything. However, it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe, and he takes a sharp inhale when he sees Saylor’s side pressing more against you, as your arm rests around his shoulder.

Rafe tends to be… possessive, and you’ve always known that. Even when you both weren’t together, he wasn’t the biggest fan of how others would usually hit on you at parties, and would feel enraged when they wouldn’t let you go after you would politely ask to leave you alone.

But that possessiveness only increased when you both got together, when you officially became his girl. There’s nothing you can do about it, because that’s how Rafe is.

You can see the expression on Rafe’s face; the subtle ticking of his jaw, the acute twitching of his eye – you’ve known him long enough to identify his facial expressions just the second they appear. You are quick to remove your arm from Saylor’s shoulder, your arm now resting on your side, but Saylor doesn’t seem to catch on that; instead his grip on your waist tightens a bit, because he most probably wants you to wrap your arm around his shoulders again.

Nevertheless, Rafe takes the picture, and hands Saylor’s phone back. Saylor takes a few seconds before he lets go of you, which only happened because you gently removed yourself from his grip. You quickly appear at Rafe’s side and intertwine your hands, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Thank you for the picture,” Saylor smiles as he looks at the phone screen. All you say is ‘welcome’ with a small smile, and Rafe pulls you to a different part of the studio.

As the small party carries on, Saylor makes subtle moves – or moves which he thinks are subtle, but aren’t missed by Rafe at all. It’s Rafe’s last straw when Saylor gently grips your waist to move past you, saying a ‘sorry’ as he walks by. At that very moment, you decide it’s best if you talk to Saylor about it yourself, tell him that you know what he’s doing, and you clearly have a boyfriend. But before you can do that, Rafe’s arm wraps quickly around your waist, and his grip is tight.

Jim says something about going to a nice nearby restaurant for dinner, but Rafe cuts him off. “Actually, we’re leaving. We have something to get to.” He says firmly. You look at him with a slightly confused expression, thinking if you both do have any other appointments today or not, but your mind is blank.

“No we don’t –,” you say, but Rafe snaps his head at you, his jaw muscles tense, and your eyes slightly widen at the sight as you catch up in the fraction of a second. “Oh, okay fine I’ll call you guys later.”

Rafe leads you out of the studio, and you barely save your half full glass of champagne from falling off the table you’re trying to keep it at as he ushers you out. He opens the door of his truck for you and as you sit down, he slams it a little too harshly than usual. He walks around the truck and sits down next to you, his grip tight on the steering wheel as he starts to drive.

You take a deep breath as you lean back in the chair. This is not the first time this is happening, and you know it’s certainly not the last. You aren’t scared because you already know how this entire situation plays out. He will raise his voice at you, say stuff like how you’re his and only his, how he absolutely hates other guys looking at you a certain way because he just can’t bear the sight, and how he gives you the best treatment you can get.

You’re just silently listening to the soft music from the radio as you look out the window. You steal a glance at Rafe and see his jaw is still tightened, his grip tight on the wheel.

“Relax your jaw Rafe,” you say plainly, turning to look back out the window. You hear him take a sharp breath.

“I did not like how he was looking at you and holding you,” he utters.

You just roll your eyes at him, as if you knew that’s exactly what he was going to say. “It was just a picture Rafe, you don’t have to be so protective about that,” you say.

Rafe snaps his head towards you, but quickly turns back to look at the road. “Just a picture?” He echoes. “So you’re telling me you loved the way he was holding your waist hm?”

“Oh god when did I say that!” You retort. “And besides, did you not see? I literally removed my hand off his shoulders the instant you saw it, and moved away from him the moment you took the picture. There’s no need for you to get so worked up!”

You can see Rafe’s chest heaving as he takes rapid breaths, his jaw ticking as you can literally see a thunderstorm brewing up in him.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this each time you get a little upset!” You say exasperatedly. “You shouldn’t have been upset in the first place because there’s literally nothing to be upset about!”

Just the second those words leave your mouth, he bellows your name causing you to shut up right that moment. “Shut up!” He yells, smacking his palm against the steering wheel once. You feel the truck speed up, his foot pressing harder against the accelerator. You glance at the speedometer and see the needle pointing to larger numbers more and more with each passing second.

“Rafe-” you mumble out but you are cut off the very next instant.

“You just refuse to see it huh?” He hissed. “You refuse to see how I am the best for you. How I can, how I do treat you better than anyone else,” he goes on, and he uses his free hand to gesture around in the air.

“Get this in your head okay?” He speaks, his voice now eerily low as he gestures to his head, tapping his fingertips at his temple. “I never, ever want you as much as looking at someone else, you got that?”

You can feel the truck speeding up more. Your hands are clutching the sides of your seat, as your nails dig into the leather. Your lips are parted as you let out shaky breaths, your eyes wide and shiny with the layer of tears that have formed over them.

You thought you had seen the worst. Which was him arguing with you and telling you he’s the best for you. But right now, when his foot only seems to be pressing more and more against the gas pedal, your back pushed back against the seat due to the fast speed of the truck, you realize there’s a hidden side to Rafe you’ve never seen before.

“Rafe I-”

“Say it!” He yells, cutting you off swiftly. “Say it, that you won’t even look at anyone else!”

“Rafe please-” you mumble out, squeezing your eyes shut as hot tears flow down your face, leaving a sticky trail as they go down.

“Say it before I crash this truck in a fucking tree!”

His breathing is heavy, his eyes are wide, and you can’t recognise him anymore. His eyes are an icy blue instead of the usual dark blue you get lost in so easily, and that’s the moment you realize Rafe will never ever let you exercise any control over him. Ever.

“I-” you hiccup, “I won’t look at anyone else, okay?” You gasp, gulping down the lump in your throat as the tears keep on streaming down.

When you don’t feel Rafe slow down the truck, the seatbelt starting to dig into your neck harshly and your grip on the seat gets harder, your breathing gets more erratic as you try to gather more air to speak up again.

“Rafe, baby, please please slow down I…” you whisper, looking at him desperately.

You expect him to lash out, but he doesn’t, and the truck starts to slow down, coming at a normal pace. You move a shaky hand to your face, running your fingers across your skin to wipe off your tears, but your breath keeps on coming out in short gasps, and you feel yourself tremble a little; your heart loud in your chest.

The truck slows down more and more, and you see Rafe has parked it at the side of the road. The truck comes to a full stop, and you turn to look at Rafe through your still slightly blurry vision, your eyes now red, and panic being the only feeling clouding your mind.

Rafe rests his forehead against the steering wheel, taking in a deep breath. His grip on the wheel loosens a bit, the knuckles not so white anymore as their color flushes back. He lifts his head from the wheel and turns to look back at you, his eyes now not so icy, but still not the comforting warm blue you’ve always loved and adored.

A smile tugs on his lips, and it’s not the kind which always warms you up the moment you look at it, but it’s… sinister. It’s a smile you’ve never seen before. It’s the kind of smile that shows that he is enjoying seeing you this way. Seeing you so weak under his control.

He moves his hands to your face, brushing any loose strands off your slightly sticky face and gently running his fingers across your cheeks.

“Now baby,” he says softly, but the softness doesn’t comfort you – no. It scares you even more. “You made that a little too hard didn’t you, hm? Next time when I ask you to do something, just do it, okay? Don’t have time to wait, or- or to see how you react m’kay? Just… agree to what I say. It’s not as hard as you may think,”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, but at that moment, all you want to do is to scrunch up into a ball and be far, far away from him and his cold, unknown touch.

Your breathing fastens up, but all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes, wondering where did that sweet, loving boyfriend of yours go and got replaced by this?

When he sees you aren’t arguing back, his menacing grin only widens, and he takes his hands off you, turning to start up the truck again and continue to drive – as if absolutely nothing happened.

A hand rests on your thigh, softly rubbing the skin through the material of your pants, but you’re too afraid to even slightly move under the touch. It’s cold, it sends shivers down your spine, and you don’t know who’s hand it is.

If only someone could stop and tell you that you had lost your ‘loving’ boyfriend forever.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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