#and i need to get the fuck over it because there is no way i’m getting any closure on that front

[spookyji]

fav place to cum. txt

nsfw, mdni. hmm, i’m in the mood to write hcs like these more than fics rn but also i have a big backlog of asks i need to catch up on eep

yeonjun = creampies, it’s not up for debate. it’s so possessive and addictive, the way he needs to fill you up with his cum and watch it seep out, mark you up inside and out so there’s no doubt you’re his. the corner of his lip pulled up into a smirk when your legs lock around his slender waist, never want him to pull out, hmm? not when he’s hitting that spot every time, rough and fast thrusts that leave you a whining mess, he’ll make you beg for him to cum inside. and there’s nothing better than being filled up to the brim with his cum, insides painted white with his cream. coos at you in a teasing way when your whimpering it’s too much, seed drooling from your cunt when he finally pulls out, dripping down on his sheets. slaps your sensitive folds, all marked up in his cum ‘cause you look so cute when you’re crying from overstim, feels so good to be fucked dumb, gonna let him fill you up again? one load’s not enough.

soobin… obviously inside, but genuinely, all over your boobs is his weakness if he can manage to pull out… maybe it’s better to give him a titjob as foreplay, he’ll cum in like 2 minutes flat. so obsessed with your tits, so soft n plush, the flushed, leaking tip of his cock protruding from the crevice between your boobs, on your knees, hold them in place for him while soobin thrusts messily into your breasts, moaning all over about how good it feels, his eyes can’t move from the sight of his throbbing cock fucking your tits, your pretty fingers squishing the plush of your chest together for him, oh, he’s so fucked, cums all over your tits in a creamy mess, so much milky white spurted on you,, soobin pushing you down on your back, need to clean you up, baby, tongue licking up his cum off your boobs, leaving a warm trail of saliva, face buried in your tits, have to make sure you’re all clean, hmm? tongue swirling over your sensitive nipple, a string of saliva hanging from his lip to the little nub… gonna let him have his way a little longer?

beomgyu’s so into doggy all because he gets to cum all over your ass, make a sticky mess when he pulls out as viscous cream drips down your curves to your thighs,, his favorite after completely ruining your pussy. careful when you beg beomgyu for harder, ‘cause he’s already such an addict for a hard, quick fuck, long bangs sticking to his skin with sweat, hands grabbing at your ass, his head tipped forwards as he pants through his parted lips, feels so good to release so much stress all at once, doesn’t it? the kind of sex that probably gets him complaints from neighbors for being so loud, lewd slaps of skin on skin and beomgyu’s just so big, stuffing you full with every thrust ‘til he’s about to burst,, and he’s so good at it, pulling out and jerking off himself off to finish all over your ass, warm, sticky cum coating your skin as you whine cause it’s such a mess to clean up later,, on another note, he’s still waiting for the day he gets to fuck your ass when it’s covered in his cum

taehyun’s guilty pleasure is covering your face in his cum, hot milky seed that drips down your glasses and on your tongue as you lick it off your lips. you’re so pretty when you’re on your knees in front of him, lips wrapped ‘round his cock, hand tangled in your hair pushing you deeper, a choked sound from your throat before he’ll relent. precum and drool all over your lips, his cock slick with spit, a hint of teeth briefly against the sensitive, prominent veins. the way taehyun adjusts your tilted glasses for you, just before he pushes your head down harder, god, he has so much self control, he could last for so long, your knees sore against the hard floor,, don’t you deserve a treat for doing so well? open up. hot cream spurted all over your face, dripping on your tongue, glasses, and skin, so pretty when milky ropes of cum coat your face. under taehyun’s relentless gaze as you lick it off your lips and swallow,, no, he won’t make you clean all of it up right away, you look too perfect like this.

huening kai’s stamina is too much for you? it’s more than just his favorite place, your stomach, his cum spilt in sloppy ropes all over your skin and on his sheets, oh, he’s so messy. legs thrown over his shoulders so he can thrust deeper, moans slipping from his throat at the sight of the little bulge he makes in your cum covered stomach when you’re full of his cock, your soft skin coated in his cum, another sticky sensation dripping down your thighs from how many loads ago? sex is so messy when it’s kai, he’s just so obsessed with you and your body, he can’t get enough, a white ring around his cock ‘cause he’s already filled you up, too. your legs sore and tired, whiny apologies because he’s still not had enough, just one more, please, you can take it, he knows you can. mhmm, one more load, cums right on your pussy. kai, ‘s messy, you mumble, can barely think straight, but he’s so sweet… and clumsy, using his discarded shirt to try to clean you up a little,,

[willyoubemycherryy]

FYT (Stack.M x R)

Summary: ���I might end up with us kissing, touching, fuckin’…girl ya body’s callin’ for me, I’m fucking you tonight.”

Contains: my extremely poor self control, everyone has a country accent, this is still for the _ strictly for the _, cursing, smut, kissing, oral (fem receiving), he’s not a vampire but he’s STILL a munch, his di€k is big and fat because cmon look at this man, nasty kissing seriously, unprotected s£x, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, rough s£x, I’m talm bout innnitttt, choking, one spank, petnames, begging, nippIe sucking, biting, u got that WAP fr, it’s cool bc Stack ain’t scared of drowning, he’s also a pvssy bully, smoke got jokes apparently😒and anything else I know I’m forgetting 🙂🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n- this is long so good luck🤝🏽🫶🏽 @childishgambinaax @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @twistedsistas-stuff @ayeeeitsmiracle @browngirldominion

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

The room was silent.

Nothing besides the sound of your breathing and the muffled music from downstairs but the air buzzed with an electric kind of tension, thick and dangerous.

“Last chance baby, you wanna tell me what was that earlier?”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel yourself grow even more restless. The fact that he was giving you an easy way out already tipped you off that you were about to get put through your paces and that was fine because you didn’t want it easy, you wanted it hard. And in order to guarantee that…

“Not unless you wanna admit that yo’ ears was working just fine and that you don’t really need me to tell you a damn thing, then nah. I’m good.” You snark as you tilt your chin up and it actually does get dead quiet. Stack squints, furrowing his eyebrows while blinking because it’s no way he heard you correctly…except he did.

There’s a click of teeth and before you can brace yourself or open your mouth to sass him some more- you’re flat on your back with your heart in your neck and a big hand locked around your throat getting tighter by the second.

It doesn’t paint you in the best light as a lady, especially not one who’s supposed to be respectable the way you soak through your panties, hips twitching upwards and your dress pooling around your hips from because of the man standing between your thighs looking down at your everything as you whine- shamelessly. Stack watches the way your eyes flutter, mouth dropping open as you gasp. Partially because of the lack of oxygen and also because of the arousal burning though your body.

His grip is tight.

Tight enough to make you lightheaded but he knows you wouldn’t have it any other way; so wet he can taste you in the air and he smiles at how your mouth wasn’t the only thing slick about you. The sight of gold adorning his canines almost make you pass out. Shuffling your hips back a bit, you go to hump up against the fat swell in the front of his slacks and surprisingly, not only does Stack let you- he meets you. Grinding down heavily against your cunt, bending over to suck wetly at your mouth and you’re in heaven.

Bringing a hand to his belt, you pull softly at the leather and instead of taking it off, he pulls away, cooing in mock sympathy at the needy frustration on your face.

“You want it, sweet thing?”

Instinctively, you almost close your eyes because it’s bait and you know it is. It always is when he gets to talkin’ to you like that- low and indulgent. Still,

“Mhm”, you swallow; breathing somewhat clearer with Stack’s hand loosened, “I-I want it-”,

“Tough, ‘cause you can’t have it.”

Your blood is boiling underneath your skin from how bad you need him and pissed off tears begin to bud in your eyes as you glare up at him with all the heat in hell itself but his grin stays in place. Moving his hands on either side of your head as he starts moving against your core, hitting your button with every filthy grind and you moan weakly.

“Why n-”,

“Because I’m in charge and you ain’t ask nicely enough for my tastes.” He purrs against your collarbone before licking a hot wet stripe up your throat to suck nasty bruises under that spot beneath your ear that makes you keen. Large hands grope all over your body, settling on the low cut of your dress and Stack slots his mouth over yours again, tongue filling your mouth and you’re rutting against him just as hard while sucking on the muscle in pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you run your nails down the nape of his neck. Bad(good) move.

All of the sudden, there’s a loud rip. Stack yanks away from your lips to look at the torn top of your dress. Was it expensive? Yes. Did you care? No. He swears before taking one of the swollen buds into his mouth and you gasp, drawing your eyebrows together in bliss- head spinning. Yet before you can loose yourself, Stack rolls the bud between his teeth and bites.

Pain blooms through your chest instantly making you choke, Stack tugging it before he lets go, letting the swell bounce back into place. The sting lingers something real fierce though and before you can bitch at him for it, he laves his firm tongue thickly over it, soothing the tenderness and you shudder.

Unfortunately for you, it’s only the start of the cycle as he gives your other nipple the same treatment. Sucking, biting to the point of pain, then heavy licking. It hurt but it was also good. So good that the thrumming pain in your nipples paired with the delicious waves of pleasure in your rutting core has you coming hard.

Stack doesn’t take his eyes off you.

No, he loves to see the way your pretty face forms into a pout and your swollen lips form that sexy O as you gasp and cry for him, smooth skin and licked raw nipples. Biting his lip, he watches dazed as you writhe in ecstasy, panting when you start to come down.

You’re dizzy and sweaty but you’ve never felt better still you need more. When try you catch your breath, you end up swallowing it when Stack begins to undo his vest and shirt with one hand and sliding your cum slick panties off then pocketing them with the other. You get to drink in the hard lines of muscle before he drops to his knees, pushing your dress up all the way n pressing a fat wet kiss to your clit before sucking it into his greedy mouth and you hear colors.

He’s got you sobbing in under a minute because normally when you cum, he’s kind enough to give you a couple minutes.

You really should have taken him up on taking the easy way out.

Nestling himself further into your cunt, it’s lick after lick between your swollen pussy lips, electricity running up your spine as you tremble. Heat rushes over you in mind numbing waves and threatens to overtake you completely when you’re filled with three of his thick fingers, back arching as they start to swirl harshly against that spot inside you that makes you melt, thrusting sloppily.

Stack presses his lips tight around your nub and when he starts to suck, you fall apart and he groans into your pussy while you lose it and it’s music to his ears.

And just like he knew you would, you beg.

Between the sobbing, the screaming, gasping, moaning and even apologizing…you beg- certain you were gonna lose your mind if he kept going. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear so he kept lapping away. Drinking you down like you were the best liquor in the country.

“I- uh! Said I was s-sorry- fuck!” Shaky, worn out moans break up your sentence as Stack pulls away with an obscene smack, looking up at you with a wet mouth and lidded eyes- he licks his lips, humming at your taste.

“I heard ya but you know I want more than a lil sorry..”, he trails off and you know what he means; left to choose between your pride or your sanity.

In the moments that you decide, Stack resumes. You feel him roll your nub around with his tongue and when you feel the start of teeth- you break.

“Okay! Okay! Before- I-i said somethin’ under my breath! You was right..”, and Stack looks like the cat the got the cream.

“And what did y’say, pretty?”

Your face burns but you still speak loud enough for him to clearly hear that:

“I said that I..,” you swallow and decide to just get it over with.

“‘Said that I wish you’d break me in.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfaction rolls off Stack in waves as he nods slowly, rising to his feet with a smirk. He hums to himself as he manhandles you onto your stomach, pressing you down into a deep arch and when you hear his belt and fly come undone, blood rushes through your ears. The fat head of his tip presses at the messy wetness of your hole and he bites his lip.

“Y’ready for me to break you in, sweets?”

A warbled moan is the best you got and he takes it, stuffing you full in one thrust. Jesus Christ, it’s such a tight fit that it hurts but in the best way- back arching further as you grapple weakly at the desk. Sobbing moans and wet smacks filling the room. Stack lets out a heady groan, watching the fat of your ass recoil with every thrust, thick strings of your wetness dripping off his cock every time he slides out and he snaps.

Tangling his fingers through your hair, he gets a good grip and pulls, landing a heavy smack on your ass too. The sting makes your eyes water, intensifying the pleasure you already feel as you tighten around him and he’s fucking into you hard enough to knock the air clean out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Stack’s so overcome with pleasure that he can barely think, tingles coiling up is spine as his cock is wrapped in the tightest heat he’s had in his life, ears ringing with your moans that are rising and he knows that when you cum, it’ll be heard-even over the music.

He’s so big that he doesn’t even have to try to hit that spot inside you- shifting a little, pounding away at the nerves n’ the way you go boneless tells him all he needs to know.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

It feels like his fat head is snug up against your stomach and you just can’t quiet yourself down. Broken cries spilling from your throat with drool pooling underneath your cheek and the sight makes his chest burn; railing more than a few of your screws loose.

You were so close.

You’d been close before you waved the white flag by admission and of course he knew that. The twitching of your cunt is on the verge of milking him and he lets go of your hair to wrap his grip around your throat instead, biceps bulging as he squeezes, lips flush against your ear whispering the nastiest things and it’s too much.

Clamping down around his fat cock so tight, he can’t even move as you cum. Its like each and every one of your nerves sizzle before exploding while you leak messily around him, almost blacking out from the overwhelmingness of it all. Stack hisses at how your walls pulse around him, fucking into you with his grip tight around your windpipe until soon enough he lets go too, shooting deep into your pussy with a heavy groan.

You both take a good couple minutes to catch your breath but Stack recovers first. Pulling out slowly then adjusting himself before helping you turn over to lay on your back, breathing heavily. You’re sweaty, you can’t feel your legs, you didn’t have an extra dress to change into, but you got what you wanted and that’s what matters. A lazy grin comes over your face and Stack smiles with you, leaning down to kiss you softly and you purr happily.

“See? Y’so much nicer after you get sum ‘act right’.” Stack’s grin broadens, dimples deepening when you roll your eyes, unamused.

“Not true. I always act right.” Now that was a lie. A lie so blatantly obvious that he laughs, chest warm as it moves against yours and your face warms in affection.

“Right. And I’m Jim Crow-”, his chuckles cut off his own sentence as you swat him on the arm, laughing with him and he’s all too content until there’s a knock at the door.

“Stack n’ company? Y’all decent?” Smoke’s voice is muffled through the wood. You snort at the ‘n company’ part while Stack hurries to cover you with his jacket. It’s big so it works and kind of itchy but smells wonderful and you glow as you nod at him to respond.

“As decent as we’ll be tonight. Come in.”

Smoke comes in and his eyes widen at the state of you two. Whistling,

“Damn! You know it’s bad when you can tell who floats like a butterfly and who stings like a bee-”,

You cover your face in embarrassment as Smoke laughs so hard he has to lean against the door to hold himself up. Stack has to bite his lip to keep from laughing with him too. Sucking his teeth instead.

“Man, what do you want?” Smoke shakes his head before answering like it’s obvious.

“To see if y’all ready to go home or if y’all staying here all night.”

Huh?

“Smoke, what time is it?” He looks at his watch then back at you.

“1:47- almost 2 in the mornin’.”

Damn. The joint closed at one. Wait-! That meant-

“Could y’all-”,

“Hear? Nah, we imagined it. Cornbread gon be talkin’ bout y’all though. Anywho-“,

Your lips thin into a line and you feel a headache coming on before Stack tells his brother that yes, you’re going home and to go wait by the bar and while y’all fix up and he shoots him a look before going, turning on his heel and closing the door. You look up to find Stack already looking at you, smile soft as cotton.

“You alright, baby?”

Warmth blooms all over and you just wanna cuddle him but that’ll wait until you’re back in bed. Leaning up, you kiss him sweetly on the cheek.

“My back hurts but m’ absolutely perfect, now cmon. Smoke’s waitin'.” He nods, kissing you one last time before pulling off you. Making himself presentable and buttoning the oversized blazer of his you have on.

Stack’s carrying you down the stairs to meet Smoke and go home when you gasp, remembering something.

“Do you think Cornbread’ll have told the entire world by tomorrow?”

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the youngest Avenger and joining the Thunderbolts*

Thunderbolts x reader

warnings: spoilers!!! blood and guns and death n such u know the drill

a/n: i gave y/n unspecified powers until about halfway through so i just based the powers on an oc i am weak

prompt:

you’d always been the odd one out in the avengers, being the “young one” was not easy

like, you were teens during the battle of new york

sure, you were respected as a valiant hero, one of earths mightiest, but there was struggle in not having many peers to lean on

when you had wanda around, things were a little different—but that didn’t last long at all

then the blip happened, you survived, your world crumbled, and you got everyone back—but nothing was ever the same and it took its toll on you

the avengers disbanded, everyone left went their separate ways and you realized that the avengers, your family, were all you’d ever known

so you found your footing elsewhere, tried to stay in touch with those who you found comfort in. people you could count on

this included sam, clint, and bruce. rest were either preoccupied, plotting less than ethical things, or you just weren’t close with to begin with

“yeah, this kid—kate—she reminds me of you. she’s a bit more clumsy, awkward, and desperate, but it made me think of you…having another young person aspiring to save the world and all. or at least new york” -clint over the phone

“it’s nice to hear, thanks for checking in. hopefully she doesn’t accidentally destroy any buildings like i did” -you

“well, about that—” -clint

you always really enjoyed when they called you first, but no one was calling for your calling

you didn’t know how to not be a hero, it was really fucking frustrating

you were only made an avenger that early on because you had powers, and you were already a public hero. it’s not like you could get a job at a coffee shop, as entertaining as that would be

that’s when bucky called you one day, and you didn’t get close with bucky until steve died. yeah, you helped him out of a bind in germany, but that was about as far as it went. you were just acquainted because of sam

but bucky knew how it felt to be alone, lost, misguided, all that

and he just decided to run for congress

“y/n, i’d like you to be my advisor. there’s no one i could trust more—that would agree to this, that is” -bucky

“are you serious?” -you

“about running for congress or the advisor thing?” -bucky

“both i guess?” -you

“yeah, i’m serious” -bucky “i heard from a mutual friend you were still trying to find your place after…you know, everything. i am, too. so i’m asking you as a friend if you will join me on this path. it could be good for both of us”

and that it was, bucky won the election and you were now being paid decend money to be bucky’s #2. it felt right

you’d briefly been a government employee as an avenger, but now you were a lot more autonomous in a sense

yes, you had a lot of red tape, but it beat that sense of impending doom you had living with the avengers

you and bucky fought to keep new york safe in a different way. fought for the little guy. tried to clean up the system a bit

that included getting valentina allegra de fontaine impeached from her job as the head of the CIA

if there’s anything bucky and you knew about intelligence agencies, they needed to be as clean as possible. or else you’d have disasters like hydra infiltrating shield and secret human experimentation and super soldiers and child assassins. all that good stuff

you backed it, regardless of what little sway you guys had

you gave him a death glare as he was interviewed about valentina’s impeachment and all he could do was say “worrying” 10 times in a row

“we need to work on your public speaking” -you, immediately following his embarrassing comments

“yeah, i know” -bucky

you and bucky lived nearby each other, you relocated to brooklyn following the new job

so when necessary, you’d lean on each other

let me be clear that this is strictly friendship. lightly professional. the teo of you have seen dark days in your own respective ways. you were both turned into weapons without any say. had a hard time controlling it for a long time. made some terrible mistakes. tried your hardest to move up in the world. carry demons with you. misery loves company.

and right now, being new to the office, not a lot of other government officials were fond of you two. there was a lot of distrust.

first, we have the hydra super soldier who’s ledger is running with blood. his slate was wiped clean, but that doesn’t mean the people see him differently. it was a miracle he was voted into office to begin with

then there’s you, the late-20s, early 30s former avenger who was never quite taken seriously due to your youth in the public eye. you were viewed as dangerous due to your powers, as well, and some people feared you two would use your abilities to influence and intimidate

so you advised taking a very gentle approach to congressman barnes, that way no one felt threatened

that was until you and bucky went rogue to bring in valentina’s covert ops team as a last ditch effort to get her impeached

bucky bombing several CIA vehicles? not very gentle

but fun and refreshing? check!

“it’s been a while since i’ve been able to stretch my legs—the suit’s a little tight, though” -you

“you’re still rocking it” -yelena

“aw, thanks! we’re not letting you go” -you

then the rogue assassins and you guys get into it about a guy named “bob” and then bucky gets a call about “bob” its a whole mess. whatever

“okay, looks like we’re letting you go” -you

“hey, i meant it, your suit still looks good! im not even tied up anymore and i’m still saying it!” -yelena

“she’s right, you look awesome” -ava

“yeah, i need to change. my range of motion is severely limited” -you

you guys got to NYC to go confront valentina…at the old avengers HQ

you got a chill down your spine as you arrived

“you good?” -bucky

“yeah, yeah. just a lot of memories here” -you

this was the moment where it clicked for the rest of the team that you were an AVENGER. a real avenger. you were close with natasha. you knew the real steve rogers. you fought alongside thor and the hulk and wanda maximoff. and here you were kicking it with what alexei was calling “the thunderbolts”

“don’t get all misty eyed, we’ve got work to do” -john

lets note that this interaction took place after bucky crashed a commercial sized truck into the lobby, you’d just beaten everyone’s asses, and valentina invited you all upstairs

and there she was at the bar pouring a drink for herself and for just a small moment you saw a glimpse of tony stark standing in front of you again. giving you a smug smirk and asking for your ID before he made you a shirley temple. even after you were of age.

and a darkness overcame you a moment while you stood there. you were in sokovia standing next to pietro maximoff as he laid facedown on the ground. you were perfectly safe, didn’t even notice he was down. you never even realized he was beside you he was so fast. you heard wanda’s screams and you panicked, froze, didn’t know what to do. you were watching yourself go through these motions again.

and then bucky’s hand touched your back and you snapped back to reality, meeting the infamous “bob” for the first time

or as valentina called him, sentry

and immediately you were disturbed, there was something off about his presence

and immediately the team began to attack

you even hit him with a shock as powerful as thor with mjölnir, but he didn’t even flinch

it was futile, he was knocking you guys around like you were nothing

but he had this strange, kind demeanor about him too

once he ripped bucky’s arm off, it was time to GO

you all evacuated the building, a place you once called home, and wandered down the streets of new york. pathetic

and not even five minutes went by before a new form of this guy was literally turning people into VOIDS

“you know, buck, i’m starting to get real tired of shit like this happening in manhattan. this doesn’t happen in brooklyn AT ALL” -you, beginning to attack once again

you were the only thunderbolt with ranged powers—literal thunderbolts, if you will

but that didn’t seem to be doing much

the rest of them were mostly using guns and that also wasn’t working, so this became more of a rescue op

you liked fighting with bucky, it’d only happened three times before this. in germany, wakanda, and the avengers compound

and yelena reminded you so much of natasha, you knew exactly what the next move would be

alexei was…well, he took some inspiration from cap, you could see it you guess.

john walker was difficult. send tweet

he was trying though. you guess.

ava was more of a loner. she kind of reminded you of wanda. you missed her

when you saw yelena vanish, the LAST thing you wanted to do was to do the same

but bucky assured you that you were in it together

he took your hand and you walked into the darkness together

and ended up facing the worst pain of your life

for him: amputation, brainwashing, brutal torture, murder, losing steve

for you: the accident that gave you powers, sokovia, the blip, loneliness, mistakes that cost lives

but you powered through. you got bob. you saved new york. and for you, it wasn’t the first time!

and the moment valentina introduced you as the new avengers, you clenched your teeth and bucky nearly had to hold you back

you agreed to stick together to keep valentina in check, much to sam wilson’s dismay

“oh, hes gonna kill us” -you

“he’s not the only one” -bucky

“oh, my god. clint’s gonna kill me” -you

“eh, barton sees you as one of his kids, i’m sure he’ll give you a stern talking to” -bucky

he did.

you cried.

he gave you a big hug after and apologized for yelling.

and there you were in avengers tower again

just like you were 15 years ago.

“you used to live here, no?” -alexei

“i did. i did a long, long time ago.” -you, about to have a full on meltdown

“that’s great! you can show me around, then. please, show me your old room!” -alexei

he did know how to lift your spirits, for sure

and then there was yelena, who so desperately wanted to feel closer to natasha

“will you tell me a story, please? it would make me feel closer to her” -yelena

ironically, hanging out with yelena made you feel closer to nat

“well, nat trained me a good bit when we joined the avengers. she taught me how to fight, to not depend on my powers, to be a spy, to use weapons. i would be who i am today without her” -you

“yes, that’s great and all, but give me specifics!” -yelena

“okay, she LOVED desperate housewives. she’d make me sit through HOURS of it when we were off-duty. it was a great distraction. when we came back from sokovia and moved into the new compound, she had me on that couch for three days straight” -you

yelena snorted laughing

she also loved to spar with you

in a way, you felt like a sibling to her these days

in the way she was raised, at least

you laughed everytime you noticed a little “oopsie” val overlooked before the full remodel

“oh, my god. i once shocked the microwave while i was half asleep and i shorted out the whole building. this dark mark in the wall is the explosion of the microwave that led to the power outage” -you

“how long did it take to fix?” -ava

“about 10 minutes. tony was thoroughly embarrassed it took him that long” -you

there were also little dents and dings and bullet holes and such, especially it what was formerly the training room and being revamped for an even better one

“the last time i was here was when ultron booted up and sent the whole iron legion in after a party with the avengers. it was actually quite horrific, i thought the avengers were gonna disband right then and there. i thought i was going to be homeless” -you

“jesus, you sure talk about your past a lot” -john

“oh, sorry, would you rather i talk about yours?” -you, semi-threatening

he backed off

you tried to make as many new memories as you could, but everything seemed to remind you of the past

all you knew is the people needed to look up to something and that had to be the new avengers

and to have a former avenger on it? that was good for optics

did it make you feel stuck from time to time? uh yeah, you never really could escape your past

but the congress thing kind of fizzled out

so this was the next best thing

“alexei is calling me, hold on” -you

“y/n! i need directions” -alexei

“okay, where are you?” -you

“twenty third floor. i do not know how you lived in this maze as long as you did! i cannot find anything around here” -alexei

“hang on. you’re lost inside the building?” -you

you’d go to your favorite restaurant in manhattan with bucky sometimes, just to get out of the tower

“so, be honest with me. is this what you want?” -bucky

“i want to feel like i belong. and i do” -you

“because it’s familiar?” -bucky

“basically” -you

you explained that it still was an adjustment. you felt like you were seeing ghosts in a sense

but it was like a do over too

a chance to be the hero you grew up to be, to make steve, tony, natasha, clint, bruce, and thor proud

sam was still a little pissed about it. rightfully so

but making breakfast with bob, training with yelena, drinking with alexei, having heart to hearts with bucky, shit talking with ava, and ignoring john was not the worst thing to happen to you

you heard over exaggerated war stories, had eventful training, shorted out the microwave again, started to give john a chance, found a friend in bob, and more in this new life

and you were always meant to be an avenger, your calling was to protect the world. thats why you guys formed the avengers 15 years ago. so you did it in the name of the family you’d never forget.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[moyazaika]

have your cake (and eat it too)

yandere! L Lawliet (death note) x gn! reader

cw; L is his own tw, imposter syndrome, explicit nsfw, mdni 18+

genie's notes; yayyy commissioned piece for @ozzgin !!! thank you ozzy my beloved for giving me the opportunity to write about my man ♡ if this feels long that's bc it is LOL i was having sm fun writing it got to 4k words,, can you tell i'm bonkers for this guy,, nevertheless, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing :D

“Take a picture,” you murmur. “It’ll last longer.”

“I know.”

You spare the man sitting besides you a quick glance. Despite the numerous dossiers emptied out onto the oak table before you, the detective’s attention is transfixed solely on you. Has been, for the past few hours. 

“Ryuzaki?” You try again, hoping he’ll get the hint this time.

Stop fucking staring at me.

No such luck. He only tilts his head to the side expectantly and you wonder, not for the first time, whether he enjoys playing the fool, or if he’s just truly ignorant of your discomfort. 

You don’t know which answer would be worse.

What you do know is that you can count on both hands the number of times you’ve been alone in a room with L. After all, it’s the exact same number of times that you’ve silently prayed for Kira to do you a favour and take you next.

The memory of the rest of the task force’s departure is still vivid. Yagami’s sympathetic smile. Matsuda’s shameless commiserations. 

You can barely think. The sensation is strangely claustrophobic. Even now, you can feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like a burden. 

With a weary sigh, you turn back to the pictures you’re thumbing through. All images of Kira’s most recent victims; their pale faces and milky eyes stare back at you with accusation. Months have passed without any sufficient leads and sure, you pull at loose threads when you can—but the mystery never quite unravels itself the way you hope for it to. There are no frayed edges. No loose seams. 

Whoever this guy is, you can tell the smug son of a bitch takes pride in his work. Has you working overtime, too. 

The wall clock across the room reads twenty minutes until five, but you didn’t really need to check the time to know that. With how high up you are, you can already glimpse the makeshift beginnings of dawn through the narrow gaps between Tokyo’s neon-lit buildings. 

Screw this.

You’re going to cut your losses; already know you’re not getting any work done in these conditions. Better to mull over the details in the privacy of your own space—far from prying eyes. 

You take the opportunity to flick through the pictures of civilian corpses once more, committing the details of the dead men’s faces to memory before finally tossing the alarmingly heavy file down onto the desk in front of you, where it lands with a resounding, strangely satisfying thud.

L doesn’t even flinch. 

“I’m going home,” you announce, actively making an effort to avoid meeting the man’s eyes. Your chair scrapes against the floor as you stand, and the noise is unbearably loud within the otherwise silent room. 

“So soon?”

You laugh at that. “It’s four in the morning, Ryuzaki.”

“Hm. So it is.”

“Time flies,” you shrug on your coat. “When are you going to leave?”

You ask out of politeness rather than any genuine curiosity. The question mumbled absently as you rummage around in your pockets for your hotel keycard. 

You’re not from Tokyo. Just staying here for as long as the task force needs you to. Called in months ago from a nearby prefecture because of your stellar track record. You like to think you’re intelligent, and that Japan’s top minds recognised that about you. You suppose it doesn’t really hurt that you’ve got some connections to the national police force. 

Though you’re glad to be trusted with the case, and happy to be here—you’ve never really cared much for the city of Tokyo itself. You miss the humdrum of the countryside; the constant chirping of cicadas hidden amidst tall blades of grass. A clear, blue sky unblemished by the fine points of soulless skyscrapers. Weaving through crowds without wondering whether one of them might be the mass murderer you’re hunting down.

L’s monotonous drawl snaps you out of your thoughts. Brings you back to exactly where you are right now and not necessarily where you’d prefer to find yourself, instead.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“Yes,” he repeats. Enunciates the syllables as if speaking to a child. No further clarification.

“I’m sorry.” You’re really not. “Are you seriously going to sleep here again?” You honestly don’t mean to sound disrespectful but the incredulity in your tone is difficult to mask. Much less in the presence of the world’s greatest detective. 

The stories are true. You found them difficult to believe at first, but since then, you’ve confirmed the extent of L’s genius with your own observations. The man before you can function perfectly without any sleep for days on end. You remember the first time you’d left the office; come back the next morning to find L hadn’t moved an inch from where you’d left him last night. 

Even still, it’s hard not to notice the prominent bags under his black eyes. The state of his clothes, all crumpled. The greasy, unkempt hair that frames his face. Despite his intellect, he’s still only human.

Even if it can be alarmingly easy to forget that.

“Why?” L asks blankly. “Are you offering me an alternative?”

Briefly, you think of the deputy director learning, come morning, that you’d left L to his own devices; The hard lines of disappointment marring his features. The disapproval in his otherwise polite gaze. He can’t be left alone. Something about being far too valuable, if you recall correctly. Or did he say vulnerable?

Regardless, you already feel like some charity case, even though you know that you’ve clawed your way to be here; called in favours and kissed the feet of men far beneath you. You deserve to be on the Kira task force as much as everybody else. Yet, you know what your answer will be long before you’ve even said anything. 

Something tells you L knows, too. He’s never been the sort of man to ask questions that serve him no greater purpose. 

Sometimes, you detest people like Matsuda for the ease with which they inhabit such unwelcoming spaces so boldly. The ability to exist so openly, without inhibition. But you detest yourself most of all, especially in moments like this where you’re burdened by the need to prove your belonging.

Well– 

Are you offerring me an alternative?

–Shit.

“Yes.” you concede, not even bothering to look back at him as you reach to call for the elevator. Press the button with considerably more force than you should. “I suppose I am.” 

You’re not nice. You’re certainly not charitable. But you are easy.

You spare him an exasperated glance over your shoulder when the doors finally slide open with a yielding sigh. From behind you, L makes no indication to move. You begin to doubt if he’s even heard you. Or, more specifically, whether he was ever really listening to begin with. His black eyes can feel so fucking vacant, sometimes.

“You coming?” you impatiently tap your foot against the carpeted floor as you hold the elevator open with narrowed eyes. “Or do I need to send you an invitation, Ryuzaki?”

“No need.” At that, L finally stands. He offers you one of his rare, private smiles; “I believe you already have.”

-

There are a couple of things you come to notice about L that day, when the ongoing investigation isn’t at the forefront of your buzzing mind.

It’s there, of course, because it’s difficult for any person to forget all of those dead faces; the list of unanswered questions growing by the hour—but the moment you slide your key into the lock and it turns with a satisfying click to open right into your little hotel room, it feels like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

Take, for example, L’s penchant to be barefoot. He immediately steps out of his shoes the moment you kick the door shut behind you. Sinks his toes into the carpet (stained, and scratchy) with a blissful sigh. 

You're choosing to ignore that.

Better not to drive yourself up the wall by paying attention to every little thing he does.

“Hungry?” you shrug off your coat and toss it onto the sofa.

“Sure.” And it’s not exactly a response, but you think this is the best you’re going to get from the man. Go rummaging through the fridge straight away, as you wave for him to take a sit in the tiny living room across from you. 

“I know you have a sweet tooth,” The leather sofa crackles beneath his weight as he perches right on the edge, legs tucked up against his chest and his head resting over his knees sideways; so that he’s watching you in the kitchen. “So I’m cutting you a slice of some cake I made last weekend. Couldn’t finish it by myself if I tried.”

You eye him wearily as you set down the plates on the coffee table before the sofa, making sure to leave as much distance as is possible between the two of you when you sit down.

He sort of reminds you like a cat when he's like this, all curled up and comfortable. When he tries his first spoonful of sponge cake, he might as well start purring with delight. “This is good,” he mumbles between bites. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

“Yeah?” You impatiently drum your fingers against the armrest. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

The moment stretches for longer than it should. 

You meet the detective’s eyes head on, find they’re as wide as saucers, staring back at you; and peering right inside. It feels downright voyeuristic and so fucking violating, the way you can feel him peeling back everything that you are to assess something nestled much, much deeper within. 

You look away first, and the moment you do, you hear L hum approvingly—he sounds pleased, almost.

And though you know he would never seriously consider you competition, you still can’t shake the strange feeling that you’ve lost at something.

“No." L concludes. "No, I don’t think so.”

He sets his plate down on the table with a clink and you’re not surprised to find he’s already finished eating. All that remains is a single cherry; so violently red against the pale porcelain it sits on. 

“Tell me,” He pinches the stem between his forefinger and thumb, and it’s the first reprieve you’re gifted from the weight of his calculating gaze; as his attention shifts to the sweet fruit he holds. “Why do you hate me?”

Shit, you realise your fingers are digging into the cracks in the leather armrest; flex your hand a few times before making an attempt to calmly fold them in your lap. Maybe because you make me feel like a fucking failure?

“I think you’re too smart for your own good.”

He gives that some thought. “As are you.”

It’s laughable, really. L is leagues above you in terms of intelligence. Prestige. Power. Who are you standing next to one of the greatest minds in the world? Who are you to deign that he recognises you?

You refuse to even recognise yourself. 

“You don’t believe that,” you scoff. 

“I do. I knew it from the moment you were first introduced to me.” 

You pick up on something strange about the way he phrases it; the necessity of awareness required from both parties in a first introduction.

I'm losing it.

You shake your head, abandoning the tendrils of something akin to unease that had just begun to creep up on you. When else would he have first known you? It's a stupid thought. You’re not exactly the sort of person preceded by some magnificent reputation. 

“Sure,” you decide to entertain him nevertheless, if only to see how far he’ll go. You wonder whether this is as close to gratitude as L can express, but is it for the hospitality or for the cake or for something in between? “And why was that, Ryuzaki?”

“L,” he corrects you. “Because even then, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“And that’s what supposedly makes me a genius?” you scrunch your nose, “because I don’t like you?”

“So you insist on maintaining,” he drawls. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you know, detective,” L ventures thoughtfully, “your heart rate always spikes quite dramatically whenever you’re alone with me.” His black eyes flicker to meet yours as he breaks off the stem—pops the cherry between his grinning lips. 

You dig your nails into the skin of your palm. Focus on the sharp sensations of precise pain; imagine the little indents of crescent moons that will litter your skin later on. 

“Ah,” your voice is unfamiliar even to your own ears. “Is that so?”

He eats the stem next, and you notice, not for the first time, that the man's skin is so pale, it’s like a thin sheet has been stretched tight over brittle bones. You can easily trace the jagged lines of blue and purple veins that curl around and underneath his face.

L’s lithe fingers reach into his mouth where the dark stem sits between his teeth. You catch a glimpse of his tongue as he pulls out the stem, now damp, and examines it between his fingers; holds it up to the light.

It takes you a few moments to realise he must be admiring his efforts. Or, rather just observing them. You’re not really sure if L is capable of awe. Whether he cares for it, given how easily he earns it; must not mean much to him.

(You’ll find out later that he is capable of awe, though there are more important things he hopes to garner.)

The cherry stem’s all folded up on itself; he’s tied it into a knot with his tongue. 

Instinctively, your eyes dart to his mouth. “I didn’t know you could do that,” you confess lowly. “Neat party trick, huh?”

And the moment you voice the thought, you wish you’d stayed silent. The curl of his lips is infuriatingly self-satisfied, as if he’s in on some grand secret you’re not quite privy to; it feels the closest L will ever get to outright mockery, yet even then, there is something you must have mistaken for sincerity in his gaze. 

You’re not sure whether that makes you feel better, or worse.

“There’s a lot,” L confesses slowly, “that you don’t know about me.”

It doesn’t escape you that even something as simple as this sounds truer when L says it.

-

Later, the dishes have been cleared away and though you can barely keep your eyes open, you’re rummaging through your suitcase to pass him a new toothbrush because, you insist, you always carry spares. L admits he's never had to brush his own teeth before.

One hand on his jaw, and another curled around the brand new toothbrush you'd managed to dig out for him, you give him a reluctant demonstration.

You don't think he listens to a word you say; his attention seems to be focused elsewhere.

After his turn, you pad into the attached bathroom and brush your own teeth with the overhead lights switched off.

Tired, you don’t notice as you unscrew the lid of your old toothpaste that your own brush’s bristles are wet, whereas the toothbrush you’d handed to L is still unopened in its plastic packaging, left positioned neatly by the basin. 

-

L is garishly tall. 

It can be easy to forget that considering how often he’s hunched over a desk or curled up in a chair. When he stretches to yawn, his shirt rides up his abdomen, revealing a pale sliver of skin underneath. You avert your gaze. The last thing you need is to be caught staring.

“Take the bed,” you offer, already sinking into the loveseat's cushions.

L stares at you as he scratches his jaw. “I don’t sleep in beds.”

You don’t even want to begin deciphering that statement. You’re beginning to think this cryptic act is purposeful; that he gets off on being evasive. Out of reach. 

You’re not even sure if he can see you, considering how dark it is in the room, but you put on your sweetest smile all the same. It feels vindictive and thrilling and you believe it’s the least he deserves.

“Well, cheers to trying new things, Ryuzaki.”

He says nothing in response, and even though he’s nothing more than a vague silhouette in the absence of light, you manage to make out the slowly way he climbs into the bed—crawls to the edge of the Queen bed that’s closest to your own spot. Pulls up the duvet to his chin, and lies on his side so he's directly facing you.

It’s unnerving. You wish desperately in times like these that you could click his head open like a purse and look inside; it's impossible to tell what he's thinking.

And then he starts talking.

-

Finally, there’s a lull in your conversation that stretches far too long.

You make no effort to salvage the exchange, relishing in its conclusion, and much to your relief, neither does your partner. It’s not necessarily that L’s bad company but it’s also not not that he’s impossibly infuriating to talk to. You just want to sleep. It's been a long fucking day.

You close your eyes, allowing a welcome silence to settle inside the stuffy room. 

…

Then you try to ignore it.

…

You really, really do.

…

Much to your dismay, even your best efforts prove futile. The quiet doesn’t last nearly as long as you’d like. 

“Ryuzaki,” In the face of overwhelming fatigue, all niceties are forgotten and honesty reigns supreme. “Why the fuck can I feel your eyes on me?”

“I can’t sleep,” he simply responds, in lieu of a proper answer. 

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so tired. Unlike him, you unfortunately do not have the seemingly inhumane ability to function properly without multiple consecutive nights of sleep. So, with a long sigh, you decide to let it slide.

Just one more time. 

Then, with disapproval evident in your weary voice, because it would feel too much like accepting defeat to say nothing at all; “you know, normal people usually just count sheep.”

“Mm." The sheets rustle. "Sleep well.” 

“...Thanks. You, too.”

Behind the heavy blackout curtains of the hotel room, the sky turns a soft, dreamy lilac. 

Outside, some parts of Tokyo wake up to the mellifluous sound of morning’s first birdsong, and others take that as their queue to drunkenly stumble home in search of a warm bed to fall into.

On the busy streets dozens of stories below yours, the city moves as it always does. Vibrant and alive—though waiting with bated breath in anticipation of death; Kira the only constant in this new world.

You don’t even realise you’ve dozed off in the armchair; sleep is simply a welcome reprieve from such a long day. A privilege, and not the routine it used to be.

You dream of running away from something. Of simply falling through a solid floor.

Conversely, though he has taken your advice, L finds rest evades him.

Content with staying awake, he takes the rare opportunity to simply observe you from across the room, and it’s such a fascinating sight, to finally see you so at peace. You usually run on such a short fuse. Well-meaning, but difficult to deal with nonetheless. You like to be seen; hate to be stared at. 

Aren’t you a charmer?

In the pale beginnings of dawn, he is a silent shepherd. He smiles at the thought, whilst gnawing on his thumbnail. 

The sheep he counts all have your face.

-

You’re not sure what exactly it is that wakes you up, but it’s quiet when you do.

Even still, something causes you to stir, and before you know it, you’re pulled out of a sleep you hadn’t even realised you’d fallen into with bleary, blinking eyes that adjust to the dark and land on—

Nothing. A startling absence where L’s body should be.

The bed’s empty, and the crinkled duvet has been hastily tossed to one side. You notice that the warm glow of the nauseatingly yellow bathroom lighting spills out from behind the door, left open just a crack. It strikes you as strange, that the door’s not fully closed. You feel justified in looking in. Call it concern. Curiosity. 

Does it really matter?

“Ryuzaki?” you venture, stepping closer. No answer. The silence is strangely more overbearing when you’re standing right in front of the bathroom door. With a hand resting on the brass knob, you decide to try once more. “Hey. L?” Silence, still and true.

It feels a lot like peering into Pandora’s box, when you inevitably do push the door open. 

Look inside. And, huh—

There is L, hunched over the sink. 

In one hand, he is holding what is unmistakably your underwear. You recognise the soft cotton instinctively, even though it’s balled up tight in his fist and he’s pressing the fabric against his nose; shuddering when he breathes in, languidly long and deep like a desperate smoker's drag of his last cigarette.

The lighting overhead casts sweeping shadows over his pale face, but despite the darkness the rest of his features are enshrouded in, you still manage to make out those black eyes; blown wide, wide open. Thick and heavy like eerily lucid, deep, dark pools of tar you can feel yourself getting sucked into.

His hand works at a methodologically steady pace. His breathing is perfectly controlled as he works at his cock with deft fingers. His tip is flushed a painful pink, leaks pre that’s been smeared down the shaft’s length. Between glimpses, you manage to make out prominent veins that eagerly pulse in response to his touch. 

Proud. Heavy.

Hungry to sink into something far tighter than his fist.

—Your breath catches in your throat. It is impossible to look away. 

The following moments are hazy, at best. Time seems to slow down to a crawl when the scene before you clicks into place, and the world moves in still frames after that; the last one lingering too long and imposing over the next. 

You don’t remember saying anything, but you must have let a gasp slip past your parted lips. Stumbled backwards, perhaps. Some involuntary indication of your presence, peering in behind him.  

Time fractures completely when L looks up; gaze snapping straight to meet yours in the mirror.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection, looking so laughably petrified—clearly just having rolled out of bed. There is not a single thing to be said as he lets his black eyes wander, appraisal silent and shameless as he drinks in the state of you; all tousled hair and crumpled clothes and bare feet. 

His hands work faster then. His movements grow jerkier, breathing shallow. Eyes flutter shut, finally looking away from you, as his grip on your underwear tightens—knuckles white from the sheer effort of holding on, refusing to let go and inhaling your scent—nose buried desperately deep in the dirty cotton. Pathetically fervent. Chasing that blissful high with a new vigour. 

You have been taught by many a smart man to never go seeking answers to questions when you do not wish to face them.

And so, when you glimpse this stranger’s tongue dart out to wet his cracking, dry lips the exact moment they wrap around the shape of a familiar name—hear the syllables repeated with a devotion akin to reverence; something like prayer—the man shudders exactly when you do.

Comes undone just as you slam the door shut.

You’re standing there in what you think might be shock, with a shaking hand resting against the doorknob. You choose to focus on the way in which the hair on your arm stands on end. Because if it’s not that, it’d be the sound of the tap running. 

The door swings open abruptly. The man breezes past you, and quietly crawls back into bed. Rooted to where you stand, it’s all you can do to turn over your shoulder and observe him.

He catches you staring, merely tilts his head to the side from where he’s settled into the sheets, a coy little lilt to his lips. 

For the first time, you’re the one who doesn’t look away. Couldn’t, even if you tried. Stygian strands of hair fall over his eyes, the darkest black they’ve ever been. Despite the fact that it feels like you’re staring at a stranger, facing him is familiar, as it always is; like wading into a thick tar.

Viscous and heavy and clinging.

You might’ve missed what he said if you weren’t so hyper focused on his every minute movement. His words are barely above a whisper, after all, and carry a strange lilt—as if recited, almost. Like he’s reading a line; performing some private joke.

“Take a picture,” L smiles knowingly. “It’ll last longer.”

[lazysoulwriter]

show me your face, baby. - pedro pascal. (MDNI)

requested! thank you. ♡ content: established relationship, dominant Pedro, intense & emotional sex, rough but affectionate, reader prefers doggy style, dirty talk, gentle face pushing, overstimulation, soft!Pedro with a possessive edge, reader begging, strong emotional bond.

---

You haven’t been together for very long. A few months, maybe. Just enough to know each other's rhythms, each other's breaths — and, in Pedro’s case, every single thing that made you melt underneath him.

He’d learned quickly. The way your thighs trembled when he hit that spot deep inside. The way your voice cracked when you were close. The way your hands clawed at the sheets, not to get away — no — but to hold onto something while he ruined you slow.

And more than anything: the way you always, always wanted him behind you.

He never minded. Not even a little. In fact, he fucking loved it. Loved the way your ass arched up for him, the way your back curved in pure submission, the way your moans sounded wrecked when you couldn't see his face — only feel him, deep and heavy and relentless.

But sometimes…

Sometimes he wanted more.

“Turn around for me,” he said one night, voice already thick with lust, hands running down your hips as he hovered over you in bed.

You were already on your stomach, already pushing back against him, already breathing like you needed him now.

“Pedro, please—”

He kissed the middle of your spine, then your lower back, his lips soft, patient.

“I know you like that I fuck you from behind, baby,” he murmured, hips grinding slow against your ass, not quite slipping in, just teasing, just pressing. “But I missed you all day. And sometimes I just wanna see your face when I’m inside you.”

That should’ve been enough to make you turn. It should’ve made you soften, flip over, let him look at you while he loved you.

But instead, you whimpered — desperate, needy, already trembling.

“Don’t stop. Please. I need it like this, Pedro—please—”

He didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t tease. Didn’t ask twice.

Because hearing you beg like that? The way your voice cracked? The way you pushed back against him, offering yourself so fully, so trustingly?

It made his head spin.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, grabbing your hips and sliding into you with one deep, ruthless thrust.

You cried out — loud, high-pitched, perfect — and he felt your body pulse around him immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled, hand gripping your waist as he started to move. “This what you wanted, huh? Didn’t even need to say it. I already know.”

And he did.

He knew this was your favorite. Knew your body better than you ever admitted. Knew the way you tightened when he gripped your thighs like this. Knew the way your toes curled when he hit it just right.

He leaned over you, chest to your back, hips still slamming into yours with a desperate, raw rhythm — all heat and love and need.

Then, without meaning to, his hand slid up your back, between your shoulder blades, and gently — gently — pushed your face down into the pillow.

Not rough. Not cruel. Just firm enough to keep you exactly where you needed to be.

Ass up, body trembling, taking every inch he gave you.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath ragged. “My perfect girl. So fucking sensitive like this.”

You moaned something he couldn’t understand, something half-broken, half-sweet, muffled into the pillow.

He fucked you through it. Let you fall apart under him, just like you needed. And when you finally collapsed, shaking and breathless, he leaned down and kissed the back of your neck again, whispering words only for you.

“I’ll do anything for you, baby. Any way you want. Always.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[resident-gay-bitch]

Steve’s always a little insecure in his relationships, always worries that they’re only in it for a short while, that all their promises are just words, no truth behind them.

He’s two months into his relationship with Eddie, and Steve’s already very in love with him, and it’s terrifying. This is the most in love Steve has ever been.

They said it for the first time the other day, during a super romantic and cosy night of Chinese takeout and nostalgic kids movies, snuggled up on the couch with never ending kisses. They had sex that night too, for the first time.

They had fooled around only a couple of times before that, nothing too serious, and only twice, since Eddie’s Demisexual. Steve didn’t know that waiting was exactly what he needed, assurance that Eddie wasn’t just there for his body.

After that night he feels even more connected to Eddie, feels the love radiating from his goofy smile and his puppy dog eyes. And the way Eddie kissed him, the way Eddie touched him, it was unforgettable. Genuine electricity. Steve had never felt so special and precious in his life, never felt so loved.

He’s still got his insecurities though, now that they’ve stepped up their relationship, Steve’s gotten a lot more comfortable, shown the secret side of him, the side that only Robin knows about really. He’s worried, like all the rest of them, that Eddie won’t like him anymore, that he’ll leave.

Robin tells him he’s being negative and stupid, Eddie’s totally the one, she can feel it!!

Steve wants to feel it, thinks the tips of his fingers are buzzing from it, but he just won’t let himself. Not yet. Not until he knows for sure.

They’re on FaceTime, having dinner together because Eddie’s gone away for a few nights with his band for a gig, and they miss eachother. Eddie called him, no prompting needed, and when Steve answered he said: “Stevie, baby, oh my god I missed you— hey fuckin, Jeff!! Look at my boyfriend, how hot is he? I got a cute ass boyfriend, wow, I feel so much better now I get to talk to you again. How are you, sweetheart? I hope you’re okay.”

Steve’s heart fucking bloomed. He feels nauseous he’s so fucking in love.

“What are you doing, Ed’s? You keep looking away from me.”

“I know, a total crime, don’t hate me. I’d much rather look at you, baby— hey shut up, Jeff, let me be in love!” Eddie yelled, tossing a pen at his bandmate across the room, “Sorry, Stevie. Uh, I’m doing some research for some songs I’m writing, making sure I’m not gonna fucking accidentally steal someone’s copyrighted track. Boring stuff, legal stuff, what are you doing?”

“Not much, missing you.”

Eddie chuckles, “God, I miss you too. Want me to come over when I get home? I’d invite you to mine, but these guys always get grouchy after a long drive home and our unit would probably just depress you.”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiled sweetly, picking at his dinner. They fall into silence for a while, Eddie deep in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue poking out over his top lip as he types away on his laptop.

Steve’s got this question gnawing at him. One of those dumb fucking questions that he shouldn’t ask, because it’s stupid. The kind of question that if he asks too many of them, his parter will get pissed off and leave, or yell at him to stop. He’s already asked Eddie one weird question, but it wasn’t even that weird, it still got a strange reaction from Eddie though. Steve didn’t take it as a good one.

Fuck, he can’t help it though, it just starts coming out of his mouth before he can really stop it, “Hey, uh, Eddie…?”

“Yah, light of my life?” He laughs to himself, isn’t looking at the camera so he can’t see Steve begin to blush, thankfully.

“If you became a rich and famous rockstar, would you leave me behind? Be honest.” Steve nodded, “I can take it-“

“Of course not, Stevie.” Eddie said, still looking at his laptop screen, it seems like he barely even thinks about the answer, “Why would I do that?”

“If you were famous, you’d have other options.”

“Yeah, but I have you. Would you leave me, if you got famous?”

“No.” Steve snickers, like it’s obvious. Because it is, because Steve’s attached to Eddie, obviously, Steve loves Eddie more than Eddie loves Steve, probably.

“See, so why would I?” Eddie says simply, a small smile on his face as he looks at Steve like he’s being goofy and weird.

Steve should just shut his mouth before Eddie starts to hate him, but he just can’t, “Well, there are better options for famous people.”

“Not for me.” Eddie says simply, and it kills Steve, genuinely, a fucking stake through the heart in the best kind of way.

“What if you were on a red carpet, and… uh… oh, what if Hugh Jackman hit on you? Would you chose him over me?”

Eddie laughed, “Look, Hugh is hot, but he’s not as hot as you. Have you seen your ass, Stevie?”

Steve flustered, “We- Uh, what about like, Dave from Foo Fighters? He’s really hot.”

“Not my type at all, besides he’s a cheater so ew.”

“Okay…” Steve wonders, “Megan Fox?”

“Gorgeous! But I don’t swing that way.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Steve sighed, “Oh, you really like Robert Irwin, right?”

Eddie laughed, looked over at Steve on his phone and smiled sweetly, rubbed a hand over his mouth, “Yeah, I like him, he’s cute. Wanna know why?”

Suddenly, Steve feels very jealous. It must show on his face too because Eddie snickers at him, “Uh, why?”

“Because he reminds me of you, dork.”

“What? How?” Steve is baffled.

“He’s cute, I like your little blonde highlights and he’s blonde. And he’s fit like you I guess. But mostly because he’s like, just a good looking chill out dude until you hear him talk, then you realise he’s a huge massive super ultra dork and you can’t help but want to know more about him.” Eddie smiled, turned back to his laptop and Steve watched him scroll through a document through the reflection of his glasses, “If Robert Irwin ever hit on me I’d be flattered as fuck. But I’d kindly reject him, and tell him I’ve got my own dork at home who prepared me for such a moment, by asking stupid questions like would you ever leave me— no Steve. I wouldn’t. Duh. You’re too good of a kisser.”

Steve laughed, let himself feel flustered for a while. Satisfied that he let himself be just the right amount of clingy to let Eddie know that he’s kinda like that, but not too clingy that he scared Eddie away.

“Would you take me with you then? When you’re rich and famous?”

“Oh, you know it baby.” Eddie grinned, “When I’m making millions, you’re quitting your goddamned job and travelling the world with me, and I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want. I’ll be your full time sugar daddy no doubts about it, gorgeous.”

Steve loves this guy so much. “Yeah, sure, you can be my sugar daddy the day you figure out how to ask me how to touch your dick without stuttering and blushing and hiding in my neck about it.”

Eddie stuttered, clearly caught off guard as he began to choke on air. Steve could hear his friends in the room around Eddie begin to laugh and make fun of him. Steve laughed with him, because Eddie knows how Steve feels about that, he knows that Steve likes how shy Eddie got in bed.

Steve thinks it’s incredibly hot, a guy so confident and out there reduced to a stuttering mess the second he gets a “hot” guy in bed, as Eddie said.

Eddie’s friends begin to heckle and tease him for a bit, and Steve listens in silence as his boyfriend fights with the lot of them.

“Hey, Eddie?” Steve asks, once they’re calmed down and quiet again.

Eddie sighs, rolls his head away from his laptop and over to look at Steve, Steve hates this. Eddie smiles anyway, even though Steve is sure he’s faking it now, and says, “Yes, my love?”

He wants to take it back. He wants to shut his mouth.

“Never mind.” Steve shakes his head.

“No, my love. Ask me, go on. It was a follow up question to the whole fame thing, right?” Eddie shrugged, “I only sighed because you should know that how I feel isn’t something so easily raptured by a mere celebrity.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded, thought about that for a moment. Wondered if anyone else in his situation would have known that, maybe he’s just insecure, too insecure, Eddie’s bound to get annoyed by it. It seems like he already is. “I was just going to ask if you’d ever write a song about me?”

Eddie smiles, blushes, and it’s so sweet, “I already have, Stevie. Three.” He looks back at his laptop, groans and Steve sees in his glasses reflection that Eddie closes all the tabs he’s looking at in anger, “Yah, you’re so easy to write love songs about to be completely honest. But no, I’m not telling you anything about them. You’ll hear when they’re ready.”

Steve is over the moon, “Okay.”

Silence again. He watches Eddie open up a new application, Steve recognises as his music app thing. He makes demos and back tracks with it, which is cool. Eddie begins to play around with if a bit, and Steve listens to the noise and wonders what song Eddie’s trying to create.

He’s got that urge again. God, he’s so clingy. Steve can’t stand how clingy he is, no one can. It’s only a matter of time before Eddie’s telling him he’s too clingy and walking out the door.

He really can’t help himself. Maybe he’s just self destructive.

“Eddie, would you tell the world I was your boyfriend, if you get famous?”

“Yup.” Eddie nodded, “But they’d only know your name, and your face, and how much I love you. Don’t want you getting stalked by weirdos— you know, if I get famous enough that people want to stalk my boyfriend.”

Steve thinks that’s really sweet of him, especially since he had that rolling off the top of his tongue, no thinking time needed.

“Well… would you take me to all your A lister parties and events?”

“If there’s no plus one option, I’m not going sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you sitting at home, worried.”

“What would you do if a celebrity like… hmm, Eddie Van Halen hit on me?”

Eddie grinned, “Then I’d say you’re seeing ghosts, sunshine.”

“If he were alive, though?”

“Then… I’d think it’s awesome that we have something in common, you’re our type— oh! And then you’d get to say you were hit on by two guys named Eddie who played guitar super good.”

Steve laughed, “Would you introduce me to Sabrina Carpenter?”

“It would be the first thing I’d do.”

“Would you get jealous if she hit on me?”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie nodded, “I’m gay as fuck and I’d still take her out on a date, you know, she’s pretty. She’s like, the girl version of you. Anyway I’d be super jealous and heartbroken but I’d tell you to take your chance.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.” He assured, “You will be hearing from me, I’ll be that crazy ex just waiting for you two to break up. I’d sabotage so bad, but I’d just want you to be happy. But I would hate if that was without me.”

Steve smiled, “Imagine if we were animals? Would you still fall in love with me if we were both little otters or something?”

“Yup, I’d be head otter heals for you.”

Steve laughed, “Dude, you’re so lame.”

“Don’t call me dude whist asking these clingy ass questions.” Eddie snickered out, and Steve shut up.

He swallowed. Stared hard at the camera and tried to surpress his sudden urge to cry.

“You get so fucking clingy sometimes.” Eddie muttered, quiet enough that his friends couldn’t hear him, “I genuinely didn’t think someone could get this clingy.”

Steve hates him.

He’s about to shut off the call when he sees something flash in Eddie’s glasses, squints to get a better look at whatever is on Eddie’s screen.

“Hey, uh, forgot to mention my uncle had this watch he thought you might like— cause I got one, but you don’t wear silver do you?”

“Nope, never.” Steve shook his head, bile rising in his throat, he can’t figure out what’s taken up all of Eddie’s attention, “Tell him thanks though.”

“Got it.” Eddie muttered to himself, pressed enter on his keyboard, and a webpage popped up with large images of golden band rings.

“What are you doing?” Steve wonders quietly.

“Huh? Oh, just mixing some music still, like I was before. Just trying to think up what I should do next.”

Steve is not that stupid. He knows Eddie’s lying. He’s lying so hard right now.

Eddie grabs his phone, pulls it close to his face so Steve can only see from his nose up, and he begins tapping away at his screen.

“Sorry, I’ll put you down in a sec, cutie, just checking something.”

With this closer angle, Steve can see very clearly what Eddie’s checking on his phone. He’s checking his bank account.

He’s checking his bank account, looking back at the web page of rings on his laptop, then pondering something in his head.

“Everything okay, Eddie?”

“Yup, just thinking up some lyric changes. Got them all written in my phone, I’ll put you down now.”

He’s such a liar, Steve’s just confused. And hurt.

“Why are you so quiet?” Eddie wondered, his phone back down on the table like it was before, eyes back on his laptop as he scrolls through rings, “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” Steve nodded.

Eddie sighed, “Hey, would you still love me if we were animals? You never answered back.” Eddie said, “What if I was an otter and you were a little fishy?”

Steve hesitates, “You’d probably eat me.”

“I’d eat you right now, Steve.” Eddie said flatly, then he ducked his head and whispered, “I miss the taste of you. I love kissing you- Hey, can I suck your dick sometime? Been thinkin’ about it.”

“Oh, now you’re brave enough to ask whilst you’re a million miles away and not even looking at me?”

“Yup.” Eddie snickered, froze for a moment with his brows furrowed, clicked on a ring and zoomed in on it, glanced between his laptop and Steve a few times. “Uh, sorry, what were we talking about?”

Steve can see the description of the ring he’s looking at. He can see, clear as day, the description reads (backwards): “Solar - Gold embossed engagement ring.”

Steve can’t believe this. Eddies looking at engagement rings. Is he looking at engagement rings?

“How much do you love me?” Steve asked, a vomit of words.

Eddie smiled, hung his head like he’s all embarrassed about it, “A lot, Stevie baby. A lot.” Eddie chuckled, “I can’t believe I get you all to myself. Not to be poetic or anything, but my life was a dark, empty night sky before I met you, and then suddenly my life was summer sun, gorgeous. You’re my sunshine, right?”

“Right.” Steve nodded, “I love when you call me that.” He squints at the reflection in Eddie’s glasses and can make out the pattern of the sun embossed on the ring.

“God, I miss you.” Eddie sighs, adds the ring to his shopping cart and keeps scrolling.

Jeff walks behind Eddie on his way out of the kitchen and stops in his tracks, walks over.

“Just working on that song, look good?” Eddie asks, and Jeff leans down on his shoulder, “I think if I add this in, this take could be the one. What do you think? Or do you think I’m being too stupid? Is it too soon for that big moment?”

Oh, fuck, he’s really looking at engagement rings.

Jeff smiles, squeezes Eddie’s shoulder encouragingly, “I mean, yeah, in theory. But you’ve never done anything by the book, and all your best choices have been a little crazy like that. If you feel it’s the right choice, and will work well with the music, then yeah, by all means.”

Eddie gins, looks back at Steve, “Yeah, it’s definitely the right choice.”

Jeff snickers, wonders off shaking his head, and Eddie looks so giddy as he takes one last look at the ring.

Eddie’s thinking about proposing to Steve.

“Don’t you think I’m clingy?” Steve blurted out, catching Eddie completely off guard.

Eddie glanced at him, sighed, carefully shut his laptop and set his attention on Steve, “Well, yeah? You are clingy.” Eddie shrugged, “Dude, you don’t understand how lucky I feel, I think. I like that. I mean, you love me so much that you wanna cling to me like a fucking koala. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten bored of me yet.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Steve feels so warm and fuzzy inside.

“I love you so much.” He mumbles, brings the phone close to his face to virtually kiss Eddie, “Do you want to move in with me?”

“What?” Eddie stuttered out, “Uh, are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious in this conversation and also about this relationship. About you.”

“Fuck.” Eddie sighed, laughed a little delirious, “Yeah, yes, I do. I’d love that, sunshine.”

“When you get back then. Just… just come over and don’t leave.” Steve nodded, “We can talk more then, about us, and everything. I just want you around me always.”

“God, Stevie, you don’t know how much I feel that in my heart.” Eddie said, two hands pressed over his heart to swoon a little.

Steve doesn’t tell him that he knows of Eddie’s plans, and five months later, when the special day comes, Steve doesn’t tell him that he’s already seen the ring. Though, he does mention it in his vowels, tells everyone watching just how much harder that evening made Steve fall in love with Eddie. That he couldn’t believe someone was falling so hard, so fast, just as he was.

Steve never doubted another relationship again, purely because his only relationship from then on was with Eddie.

He’d never felt as secure as he does with Eddie, since that night, never second guessed his intentions, never doubted their love.

They’re mutually head otter heals for each other. Robin was right, Eddie is the one.

[butyoudidthis4what]

Would You Believe Me If...

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

3.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: mentions of alcohol; reference to sex; mental health issues; reader is not having a great time; reader doesn't like beer; depression; being sad for no articulable reason; self-hate; ass grab; kissing with tongue; little to no editing/proofreading; Jack being the BEST; hurt/comfort type situation (reader's brain is the hurt, Jack is the comfort)

Summary: Jack sees the sadness you're hiding from everyone and pulls you aside to talk and love on you.

AN: I was sent this ask and inspired to write whatever this is!!!! A short little fluffy comfort fic! I very much agree with that anon that Jack is very much an "On purpose. On purpose I am going to care about you" and "I never loved you on accident?" man. He would see all of you, good and bad, and still love you. I tried to give him that kind of vibe in You're Okay too and we see it here again (I hope, I don't really know what I'm doing anymore). I have absolutely zero fucking clue what the end is or where that came from but here we are friends. ALSO there is a very small Star Wars nod in here since I’m posting on May 4th! Thank you for reading!!

Jack’s eyes find you the second he hears you laugh. 

Quite literally a second because he’s always keeping an eye on you when you’re out together, not controlling or because he cares who you’re with. He just always wants to know where you are relative to him, just in case something happens and he needs to get to you. Military training, he supposes.

His eyes find you because he knows that laugh. It’s not your real laugh. It’s fake, the one you put on when you’re not super present and are hiding your sadness. To anyone else it’s very convincing, they don’t blink at it. 

He narrows his eyes a little to watch you better as you chat with McKay, Samira and Parker. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see your leg bouncing under the picnic table, can see the way you chew on the side of your cheek every so often. 

“You gonna pay attention to this conversation or just stare at your girl all day?” Robby asks Jack. Most of the crew is at a local park for a picnic celebrating Dana’s birthday.

“I’ve been paying attention and heard everything you said. Unlike you I can multitask.” Jack finally lets his eyes leave you as he turns to look back at Robby. Shen and Whitaker stifle laughs. Everyone knows it’s not true and just Jack giving Robby shit. You have to be able to multitask to be a good emergentologist, and Robby is one of the best, Jack’s told him that many times. 

“I agree though,” Jack nods at Robby. “The patient satisfaction scores are bullshit. They should automatically be a ten or whatever the highest thing on the fucking form is if they’re brough in via ambulance and survive.”

“People come in by ambulance for really stupid things that don’t really require us saving them,” Whitaker observes. 

“And people walk in with injuries they really should have come in an ambulance for,” Robby shrugs. “It would even itself out.” 

“Exactly,” Jack nods. He looks back over at you for a second and then stands up. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Robby drawls, smirking. 

Jack ignores him as he starts walking over to you. “Hey,” he says to the group as he reaches you, sets his hands on your shoulders from behind and squeezes. You feel a little better already, just from being closer to him. The rest of the group continues chatting as he leans down to speak just to you. “Take a walk with me for a few minutes?”

You furrow your brows, tilt your head and look back a little to see him. “Um, sure. Is there a reason why? Are you sure? It seemed like you guys were having a good conversation.” You flick your head towards Robby, Shen and Whitaker. 

“I’m sure. And does there need to be a reason why I want to take a walk with my girl?” He turns his head a little more and places a soft kiss just below your ear. 

My girl. Even though you’ve been together for a while now it still makes you a little dizzy to hear. 

“No, I guess not.” You give him one of those fake smiles and he knows it’s not because you’re trying to fool him, not really, deep down you know better than to even try by this point, but because you’re in public. Have to keep up appearances. 

“Well I know not, so.” He leans back up and moves his hands from your shoulders. “I’m stealing her for a minute.” He nods at the group. It pulls some smirks but nobody says anything, they all just nod. As you get up Jack finishes off the little bit of cider left in the bottle you were nursing. 

Once you’re up Jack laces his hand with yours and leads you over to the park’s path, walks down it a ways with you in silence before pulling you off it. He walks with you on the grass until you come to a spot where the ground starts to slope down, the top of a little hill that provides a nice view of the sun setting over the city. You’re more than far away enough that nobody can hear or see you.

“What’s up?” You titter a little, clearly a bit nervous. 

Jack nods at the ground and you both sit, feet out in front of you, grass and soil dry from the heat of the day. “You were totally spaced out and not really there.” He eyes you carefully. “You’re back now, for the most part, but I wanted to see what’s up away from everyone.” 

You push your bottom lip out a little and shrug, shake your head. “I’m f-” Jack gives you a look. “I don’t even know why I bother trying,” you mutter. 

“Neither do I. But I get it. Wanting to hide it and not let me see because you know I don’t like seeing you upset. I feel the same.” He squeezes your leg gently and doesn’t press when you’re quiet for a bit as you think of what you want to say. 

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” you murmur. You already know the answer but you’re using the question as an answer itself.

“Yeah.” Jack pauses and cocks his head at you, catches your eyes and holds your gaze as he speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was okay not to know?” He already knows the answer but he’s using the question to tell you it’s okay. 

You let out a breath through your nose and shake your head a little as you look away from him and out at the city, Jack doing the same. “I know it is. Rationally. But the irrational side of my brain doesn’t.”

You see Jack nod out of the corner of your eye. He gives you space to think, sits in the background buzz of the park with you, hand running up and down your thigh to ground you, remind you he’s here. 

“I’m just sad.” You shrug. You aren’t teary, don’t even have the urge to cry at the moment. It’s a hollow sadness. One that just vaguely aches and makes you tired. “There’s no reason for it. Just am.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s okay too?” Again, he knows the answer but uses the question to make the point. 

“Is it though Jack?” You reply quickly. It surprises him, catches him off guard. 

He turns back to study your face, see if he can read what this is from your profile. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you continue. “Not even for me, but for you. It’s not fair to you. For me to just randomly be sad sometimes and unable to explain why. Because fuck Jack, I just want to sit here and be sad. I just want to sit here and be sad and maybe cry if I can get past whatever fucking emotional brick it is that’s stopping me from doing so. But what I don’t want is for you to have to sit here with me in it.” 

Jack lets your words hang in the air for a few seconds so that you know he’s really listening and taking them in, but not so long that it feels like he’s having to think of a response.

“It is okay. I promise you it is.” As much as he loves eye contact he knows it would be a little too much for you right now so he doesn’t push you to look at him or try to catch your gaze. “And it’s okay for us to just sit here. We can just sit in the sad. I hate seeing you be sad and struggle, yes. But sometimes you just need to sit here and feel it. And I want to be there next to you when you do. You don’t have to be okay and happy all of the time. You’re allowed to just sit here and be sad or whatever emotion you want to be. You don’t constantly have to be working towards being better when you get sad like this. We can stay here for a bit. I’m not going to let you or us unpack and move here, but we can visit sometimes. You can feel whatever it is you need to feel in front of me and with me. I want you to.”  

You let out a shaky breath. You know that what he’s saying is true. At least part of you does. But it’s so hard to accept. 

“And there are very few things in life that I have to do anymore, sweetheart.” He gives your leg a little squeeze before resuming running his hand up and down it. “You’re not holding me hostage or keeping me here against my will. I know I don’t have to sit here with you while you’re sad and don’t know why. I don’t feel like I have to. I choose to. I choose to sit next to you here in the sadness the way you do for me when I want to sit and be sad and not know why. I choose you.” 

“You should choose better.” It’s whispered. “You deserve better.” 

Jack starts shaking his head before you even finish the word better. 

“Yes, Jack, you do,” you say before he can get anything out. “Because you’ve been through so much already. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone easier to love who isn’t constantly putting you through shit like this. I know you love me, Jack, I promise. I never doubt that. But sometimes I don’t understand why you love me. Why you love me when I can be so fucking awful and all over the place and sad randomly for no reason. Do you see that Jack? Do you really see me? What you put yourself through by loving me?” 

Jack’s hand stills and squeezes your thigh again, longer this time, but still at the perfect pressure. He hurts, physically, his heart hurts seeing you like this, hearing your voice and knowing how much you mean what you’re saying. He hates it. He wishes he could take away your pain. But he can’t. All he can do is try to help and try to make you feel a little better and at the very least not let you be alone in it. 

He adjusts his position so that he’s turned toward you a bit more, the side of one of your legs and one of his pressed together. 

“Darling, the way you see and feel about yourself is not the way I see or feel about you. Just like the way I see myself and feel about myself is not the way you see or feel about me. We’re our own worst critics, as fucking cliché as that shit is. And I love you and mean this with all the love in the world, but you’re right. You can be awful at times. But the only person you’re ever awful to is yourself. Like you are right now.” You can feel tears start to form behind your eyes at that. Not because it’s mean and his words have hurt you. Because he’s right and you know it. 

He takes in a deep breath and looks out at the city for a moment before his gaze returns to you. “I don’t put myself through anything by loving you. I’m not burdened by loving you. And of course I see you, I always have,” he says with a heavy conviction. “You think I fell in love with you by accident? Or blindly? With my eyes closed?” 

You swallow thickly, can feel his eyes on you. “No.” Tears sting at your eyes now. “But still. You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I shouldn’t be work. But I am.”  

“Oh honey,” Jack breathes out softly. He takes a second and then shifts, sits a bit further up and grabs your legs, pulls them diagonal a bit and you a little closer so they can rest on top of his and you can look at each other better.   

“I need you to listen to me, yeah? Really listen.” Jack holds your face with his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones for a second while he looks you in the eyes. “Loving you is not the chore that your past has made you think it is.” He squeezes your face a little. “It’s not a chore at all. It’s a fucking privilege.” 

That gets a few tears to slide down your face and Jack’s thumbs are quick to wipe them away.

“And I know you can’t see that, and that you might never be able to see that. But it’s okay, because I do. And I will tell you it over and over and over and over until you understand why Robby tells me nicely to shut the fuck up sometimes.” He gives you the smallest knowing smirk.

You laugh at that, and it’s watery, and through your tears, but it’s real. You love the way he does that. Knows when to instill just enough lightness into this serious of a conversation to keep you grounded and from getting completely overwhelmed, but also knows when it’s not appropriate in a serious conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through some tears and shrug at him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jack whispers back. He leans in and kisses your forehead, lets his lips linger there before pulling them away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You have to repeat this speech a lot.”

“I know.” He says it so matter of fact as he pulls his forehead from yours to look at you better. His hands leave your face and take yours in his, fingers tangling together.

“It makes me feel really bad. Like it’s going to push you away. Or like you’re going to think I don’t trust you or your love or-”

“I don’t think that, nor will I. I understand, baby. I really do. Because I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t care that you need reassurance at times. It doesn’t make me feel like you’re questioning me, or my love, or our love. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m the problem or somehow doing something wrong or not doing enough or anything else. It makes me feel like sometimes your brain’s chemicals get a little fucked up. And you know what? So do mine. I think we’ve had this conversation at least a time or two with the roles reversed. I think you have to repeat a version of the speech I’m giving you right now a lot. And do you care?”

You shake your head gently. “No. I would give you it every day if you needed me to.” 

“Guess what?” he whispers.

“So would you?” You give him a little pout and big doe eyes that show how much you love him and it’s so adorable he has to smile a little.

“Yeah. So would I.”  

He leans back in but this time he gives you a kiss on the lips, lingers just long enough before he breaks it and nuzzles his nose against yours. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away, a little smile on your face. You open your eyes just in time to see the nearly beaming smile it pulls from Jack. 

The two of you sit there for a few more minutes before you finally turn to look at him. “We should go back.” 

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “We can stay longer.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m ready.” Jack nods, gently moves your legs off his and stands up before holding both hands out to help you up. 

Instead of taking your hand and starting to walk back though he slips his arms around you, slides his hands in your back pockets and pulls you right up against him by your ass. He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, a slight bobble of his head when it makes you gasp in surprise. 

His hands leave your pockets and slide up so that they’re wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You rest your hands on his chest, look up at him knowing he wants your eye contact. Jack smiles when you give it to him. 

“I see you. I see all of you. Even the parts you don’t want me to see. The parts you’ll never show anyone else. And I did before I fell in love with you. And I still chose to jump head fucking first into being in love with you and even right now, sitting here in the sad with you, I’d make the same choice without a second thought.” One of his hands comes to hold your jaw, thumb on one side of your chin, his other four fingers on the other side, index finger right in front of your ear and the other three just below your ear and on your neck. “I choose you. All of you. Not just the you that you like and think is good enough. I choose all of you because I love all of you and I know that all of you is more than good enough. I choose you and I will always choose you and I know I’m lucky to get to make that choice. I love you.”

Jack kisses you then, hand tightening just a little to hold you still for him. They’re chaste at first but turn deeper, his tongue running over one of your lips, a silent question. You let your hands run up his chest and over his shoulders before sliding your fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and open your mouth for him in silent answer, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste you, let you taste him. The taste of you pulls a groan from deep in Jack’s chest and you shiver. You only pull back when you’re desperate for air and Jack chases your lips with his. It makes you giggle.

You can feel him smile against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I choose you too. I love you.”

“I know.” You feel him smile a little wider against your lips before he gives you another kiss. 

You bite your lip as he pulls away, let your eyes open back up slowly to his grin. Jack grabs your hand and leads you back towards the path.

It hits you a few steps in. “You taste like cider.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods.

“You don’t like cider. You don’t drink it.”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs slightly. “But I was drinking beer and you hate the taste of beer. And I knew I was going to kiss you like that so when you got up from the table I finished off your cider so you wouldn’t taste the beer on me.”

You beam up at him and he just smiles, can feel your happiness. He knows it hasn’t made it all better, that you might still be sad overall, that it might linger for a while.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute until you break it. 

“They’re going to think we fucked, probably.” You smirk a little at Jack. 

“You wanna play into it?” He’s so unfazed and stoic about it. So Jack. “I can go grab some little twigs to put in your hair, a leaf, some grass.” 

You burst out laughing. Properly. Fully. Real.

“Twigs?!” For some reason him saying the word twigs is hysterical to you. 

“There’s my favorite sound,” Jack laughs with you. “Well, one of them, anyway.” 

“Oh?” You glance up at him as your laughter trails off. 

“You would have been making another one of my favorite sounds if we had in fact fucked,” he says nonchalantly, swinging your hands a little.

“Oh,” you breathe. You can feel the smirk radiating off him. “Do you have more favorite sounds?”

“Course.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “You saying my name. You saying you love me.” He squeezes your hand. “And the sound of your heartbeat when I rest my head on your chest.” 

You bite your lip at that. It’s so sweet it almost makes your heart ache. “Awwwww!” You squeeze his hand and lean into him. “You’re such a romantic, pookie.” 

“Ha!” The pet name catches him by surprise. “No.” Jack shakes his head at it, but his smile gives him away.

“Pookie is cute!”

“Do you understand the actual level of shit I would get from Robby if he ever heard you call me pookie? I’d have to get a new best friend and a new job.” You giggle at him. “You’re laughing but I’m serious.” 

“I’ll go into work with you one day this week and conspire with Myrna to come up with an even better nickname than fruitcake for Robby if you’ll let me call you pookie sometimes.”

Jack stops walking and looks down at you, pretends to eye you up for a second before giving you a little smirk. “Come up with something really good that’ll drive him up a wall and I’ll consider it.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry but the thought of hearing him say twig just sent me at the time I wrote this. I have no idea why. Anyway, I hope this was okay and you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!!

You can find my Masterlist here for more Jack! Requests are closed while I catch up, but apparently if you just send in an ask with your thoughts about Jack I may be inspired and write something! I love chatting with you guys and likes/reblogs/replies are super appreciated and motivating!

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[iloveacaibowls111]

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

18+ MDNI, smut

dilf!toji wants a kid pt. 2

you don’t move.

can’t, really.

not with the way your breath is still caught somewhere in your chest, skin hot where toji just kissed you, where his palms were wrapped around you like he owned every inch. and god, you don’t even need to look down to know your robe is a mess - half-slipped off your shoulder, loosely tied at your waist, the heat of his body still lingering like static.

from the kitchen, you hear cereal being poured with the chaos only a toddler can summon. clinks. sloshes. maybe a plastic spoon hitting the ground.

toji’s already out the door, heavy-footed and shirtless, muttering something like “gimme a sec, bud” while grabbing the milk from the fridge.

it gives you just enough time to almost pull yourself together.

almost.

because two minutes later, he’s back - and he means business.

he doesn’t say a word. just closes the bedroom door behind him with a soft click, strides over to you like a man possessed, and then he’s on you again.

“been thinkin’ about this all morning,” he rasps, one knee pressing between your thighs as he walks you backward toward the bed. “you on the rug like that, bein’ all sweet with him…”

his hands are already undoing your robe, slipping it off your arms, letting it pool onto the floor like it never mattered. you’re left bare in front of him, flushed and aching, and the way he looks at you - almost feral - makes your knees almost give out.

toji catches you with a low grunt, arms solid as steel around your waist.

“i mean it,” he mutters, dragging his lips along your collarbone. “you’re killin’ me.”

he lifts you again, like you weigh nothing and this time lays you out across the bed. slow, almost careful. but there’s nothing gentle about the way he settles between your legs, dragging his mouth down your sternum, over the swell of your chest.

you let out a shaky breath, thighs twitching as his hand trails up to your breast, palm warm and broad and desperate.

“toji-” you gasp when he flicks your nipple with his tongue, followed by a greedy suck that sends sparks down your spine.

his voice is wrecked when he pulls back, thumb dragging over the damp mark he left behind. “should’ve locked the damn door.”

you let out a shaky laugh, hand curling in his hair. “you’re the one who left it open.”

“yeah, and i’m about to do a whole lot more if you keep lookin’ like that.” his mouth returns to your skin, kissing a path down your belly - slow, aching, possessive.

and then you feel it: his fingers brushing between your legs, groaning when he feels how wet you already are.

“…fuck,” he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your thigh for a moment like he’s overwhelmed. “you’re so perfect, doll.”

his fingers slip in with ease, thick and precise, curling at just the right spot as he watches your mouth fall open and listens to your soft whimpers. he keeps you on the edge - pushing, pulling, teasing. his name falls from your lips over and over, half-pleas, half-prayers.

just when as you feel that familiar coil in your stomach about to come undone around his hand.

just when you’re gasping, about to come undone around his hand, he pulls away.

“not yet, baby,” he says, voice tight with restraint. “wanna feel you around me when you cum.”

he strips out of his sweatpants fast, like they offended him, and you get your first look at how hard he’s been this whole time - cock flushed, leaking, twitching at the tip as he lines himself up with a low groan.

“i should take my time,” he murmurs, rubbing the head of his length against your soaked folds. “but I need you too much, doll.”

when he finally pushes his cock in - thick and deep - the stretch burning in the best way. the pure size never fails to reduce you to a moaning mess. 

you grab at his back, nails digging in as he bottoms out, voice catching on a soft, “toji-“

“shh,” he says, his forehead pressed to yours. “i got you.”

and then he starts moving - slow at first, rolling his hips deep until your eyes flutter shut, then faster, harder, chasing the way your breath stutters every time he hits just right.

when you felt his tip hit that one spot. the one that makes everything in your mind go blank. you let out a sweetened whimper as he says “ahh, there it is.”

you’re a mess under him. head thrown back. hair fanned across the pillow. his name tumbling from your lips like it’s the only thing you know.

“feel that?” he pants, hand pressing down on her stomach where there is a slight outline of his cock.”you take me so damn good. you really must want to be a mommy again.”

every thrust is rougher, needier, but still full of something tender - like he’s trying to give you something, not just take.

“gonna give you another baby,” he says lowly, voice breaking against your ear. “you want that, don’t you?”

you can’t even answer. you were too fucked out at this point.

you could just manage to nod, gasping, legs wrapping tight around him like instinct.

and that’s it for him. he groans your name - growls it, really - and leans down to kiss you hard, hips jerking as he spills his cum inside you with a low, broken sound.

he keeps moving even after, slower now, riding it out, brushing kisses across your cheeks and jaw while your bodies tremble together.

finally, he stills - sweaty, panting, arms caging you in like he never wants to let you go.

“you good?” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

you smile dazedly, still catching your breath. “…next time, we’re going to need more time.”

right on cue-

“mom! dad! the cereal’s too soggy now!”

toji groans against your chest. “i swear this kid is pickier than gordon ramsay.”

“i know,” you say, grinning. “but right now, you’re on milk duty.”

A/N: Sorry guys this is kinda cheeks because this is really rushed

part one here

[blackmoonoracle]

How can you sustainably & realistically glow up?

Hello lovelies! I wanted to focus today’s reading on self care & nurturing, over here we are ALL about wholeness, healing, & authenticity. So I wanted to give channeled messages to all of you regarding this particular niche. This advice is meant to be flexible and manageable, growth happens and increments and I want you all to be patient with your growth.

pile i

You guys are observers, you may enjoy connecting and love people but just can’t seem to fit in. The problem is that you are focusing too much on trying to mirror and match. Your authenticity is calling, and it’s trying to claw its way out. Some of you may struggle with feeling like you’re in survival mode or have bad relationship trauma. This can be romantic, platonic, familial, etc! It’s giving TRUST ISSUES, y’all have beautiful minds and fiercely loving hearts. Your honesty will set you free, your authenticity will cleanse the pain away. Set boundaries and stand on them, you don’t need them- THEY NEED YOU. You can’t be a pushover forever, stand on your own two feet who cares about rejection. You will find people that accept you for who you are, people who are loving and compassionate who hold space for the contents of your mind & heart without turning it against you.

For some, it may be time to consider therapy and or medication. Health, quality of life- go outside more, exercise (you don’t have to make this stuff a chore, stagnance can be difficult to remove. Why don’t you start by opening the windows, sweeping and saying “by broom and air and with delight I remove this stagnance and make room for life” set your intentions, and what energies you want entering your space)

Make cleaning easier for yourself, find better organizational habits, you DONT need to be spic and span- but just have better general organization and be less harsh on yourself. Maintain your routines to the absolute best of your ability and don’t be afraid of messing up or losing track. It isn’t about being perfect it’s about quality of life

Recommendations: Journaling, music, spending time outside (even if ur on ur phone, it’s better than nothing), stretching and light exercise (u don’t have to lose weight, it’s not about societal standards it’s about loving who YOU are, taking care of your mind, body, heart, and soul)

Signs: seashells, Aphrodite, classical romantic art, drama tv shows & telenovelas, Dolores from encanto, stomach pains from anxiety, trouble sleeping, fear of loss & fear of connection, chronic illness (mental or physical)

Zodiac: Lilith in Capricorn, Sagittarius, and Scorpio, Gemini sun/moon/rising, Capricorn stellium, Uranus 6h, chiron 6h Chiron in Libra chiron in Scorpio Chiron in Sagittarius.

pile ii

In a loving way I’m about to beat ur ass fr omg

You need to be creating, stop avoiding your creativity it’s WHO YOU ARE. When you create unrealistic expectations of your creativity & try to cage yourself in you start to feel drained and tired. You can beat your exhaustion by just being you. There’s a message about teeth, taking care of your teeth, water flossing, going to a dentist, make an appointment asap! They’re still salvageable if you take action and put forth effort. For some a big chop could be in order, or at least a trim & some shaping. You are meant to be putting yourself out there, people actually REALLY admire your beauty and your harsh overly critical nature often blocks you from being satisfied with what you create and what you do. Give yourself the chance to just be. Stop creating stipulations for everything you make, if it flops who fucking cares. You guys don’t trust in your own ideas, and it’s because you block out a LOT. It feels like you struggle to connect with others and the world around you.

You can level up by caring less and investing more into your creative endeavors. You might get so restless and moody because you aren’t actually living in alignment with this part of yourself. You have an incredibly active mind that you’re not stimulating properly, when you’re gifted with such a mind it should be sharpened and exercised! Honed to your liking, the power is in you to make that choice.

Stand in your ideas, and get up and do something with them before they are given to others who will actually do the damn thing.

Recommendations: connect with nature, jot down your ideas, don’t shy away from self expression, dress how you really wanna dress, be bold, be brave, be unapologetically you.

Signs: blackbirds, crows, ravens, Lana del Rey, charmed, whimsy gothic/celestial aesthetic.

Zodiac: Aquarius, Leo, Capricorn, Aries midheaven/cancer rising, Saturn in Taurus ?, Uranus in Scorpio, mars sextile Venus

pile iii

It’s time to stop focusing on image and start focusing on tact, you may have to put your ego on the back burner for a bit but that’s okay. We all have to do it one time or another, you’re being called to re-examine your approach to life and the skills you’ve developed. Have more balance, and think more thoroughly and skillfully. Idk I feel like this pile is genuinely very impulsive and at times an active participant in incredibly foolish behavior. You spend a lot of time justifying your egotistical responses and knee jerk reactions- you can glow up by being more open minded to change. Changing your outlook, changing your approach, etc- perhaps sometimes you treat yourself like a one trick pony. Some of you could have also experienced bullying or othering in school. Feeling like the odd one out, you can glow up by confronting this wound and releasing it. The fixation on the wound is unhealthy & seemingly subconscious. You can also glow up by not reacting so strongly to everything- learn to not crash the fuck out every time you feel triggered. Or learn not to quietly implode every time you feel triggered, aim for flexibility and call in clarity in these moments it WILL be brought to you.

Hmmm pile 3, I’m not sure what’s going on for you my loves- but I see that in order to help further glow up that you would benefit from more privacy and alone time? Perhaps you have a validation seeking issue? I’m not saying all of you aren’t working on this btw! I’m sure some of you are, but I see where spending the foreseeable future in a state of solitude would be super duper beneficial for you. You need to rest and recuperate from something. Perhaps you feel burnt out trying to upkeep an image or upkeep a persona and you’re unable to keep up anymore. I feel like you guys need clarity, and unfortunately you’re only going to find that within right now. Perhaps some of you could even have some kind of obsessive thinking patterns- addiction to tarot or divination- you’re being told to relax. Lean into the healing, allow it to overtake you. You will come out of the other side, but when the darkness beckons. It is not always an invitation but an inevitable occurrence.

Signs: swans, lace & ribbons, ripped fishnets, beat up converse, a densely wooded area, tj maxx (lol??), Ayurveda, denim, cadavers.

Recommendations: thinking before you speak/act, being slow & methodical- not allowing people to push you over the edge but also knowing when to back down and reflect. Surrendering to the change so you don’t get dragged by the hair 😭

Zodiac: Sagittarius rising, cancer moon, black moon Lilith in Aquarius, north node in Libra, Aries moon and mercury, Saturn in the 12th house.

[delilahsturniolo]

⋆˙⟡ ۶ৎ 📞 BABY, CAN YOU CALL ME BACK? I MISS YOU . . .

in which . . . you and matt get into an argument over the phone while he’s away for tour. matt calls you again hours later, apologizing and letting you know how much he misses you.

warnings . . . phone sex, mutual masturbation, degradation, dirty talk, arguing, angst, sexual descriptions, cursing, matt talking you through it.

written by @delilahsturniolo, do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

the call starts out fine. he’s in some city you can’t remember the name of. maybe denver. or dallas. it doesn’t matter. he’s not here. he hasn’t been for weeks. you’re curled up on your bed, wearing his hoodie, one of the only things that still smells like him. it’s past midnight and the video call glitches when he answers. he looks tired. his hair’s messy. he’s got a water bottle in one hand and his phone in the other, held up under his chin like he can’t be bothered to try. “hey,” he says, voice scratchy from the show “hey,” you reply, quiet.

he talks about the crowd, about his travels, all that stuff. you nod. smile where it feels appropriate. but something’s off, he doesn’t ask about your day. doesn’t notice the dark circles under your eyes or the way your voice shakes a little when you talk. and you’re already too close to the edge to let it slide. you miss him, so damn much. “do you even care how i am?” you blurt. matt pauses. “what?”

“you didn’t ask. not once.” your voice cracks. “i’ve been trying so hard to be cool about this, matt, but i feel like i’m dating a fucking ghost.” his jaw tightens. “that’s not fair.”

“neither is the fact that i haven’t seen you in a month and the best i get is a ten-minute facetime where you talk more about the food you ate than me.”

“i’m working,” he says, sharper now. “this isn’t a vacation. i’m exhausted.”

“and i’m lonely!” you snap, tears brimming. “but that doesn’t matter, right? because as long as you’re doing your thing, i’m just supposed to shut up and deal with it.”

he goes quiet. his face darkens. “i can’t do this right now,” he mutters. “of course not,” you say bitterly. “you never can.” then he hangs up. your phone screen goes black and the room suddenly feels colder. you don’t cry. not at first. you just sit there, staring at the screen, fists clenched, chest burning with anger and heartbreak. you toss your phone on the bed, crawl under the covers, and try to pretend you’re not falling apart.

two hours pass.

then, your phone buzzes, you don’t look right away. but then the screen lights up again. matt calling, your heart stutters. you answer. neither of you says anything for a few seconds. then his voice…low, rough, soft in the dark.

“i’m sorry.”

you breathe out slowly. “me too.”

“i shouldn’t have hung up. that was a dick move.”

“i shouldn’t have picked a fight,” you whisper. “i just… miss you so bad it hurts.” he exhales. “i know, baby. i miss you too. like fucking crazy.” silence. then, more quietly…

“can i tell you something?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“i—i just…i needed to hear your voice again.”

your breath catches.

“been laying in this hotel bed thinking about you. thinking about how mad you looked. even that turned me on.” his voice dips, husky now. “you know what that does to me, don’t you?”you squirm under your blankets. “what?”

“the way your voice sounds when you’re mad. the way your lips pout when you’re frustrated. i kept picturing you walking away from the phone, pacing in my hoodie, no pants on, just those little shorts that ride up when you sit…fuck.” your body heats instantly.

“matt…”

“i know, baby. i know. you’re probably in bed right now, aren’t you? wearing that hoodie. nothing else.” you can’t speak. your breath’s gone, you clench your thighs together, trying to contain the heat pooling between your legs.

“i’d be touching you if i was there. slow. careful. i’d make it up to you, make you forget why you were ever mad in the first place. i’d kiss your thighs, your stomach, every inch of you.”

“matt,” you whisper, needy now.

“say it again,” he murmurs. “please.”

“matt,” you moan out into the speaker, softer, more desperate.

“good girl,” he groans. “you don’t even know what you do to me.” you close your eyes, biting your lip. “touch yourself for me,” he says, voice ragged. “just a little. i wanna hear how bad you need me.” your fingers trail down slowly, as he whispers your name again and again like a prayer, voice thick with lust and love and everything you’ve both been holding in for too long. the argument fades like smoke, what’s left is the ache. the love. the promise of his hands on you again soon.

you breathe, your hand sliding down your body. "i miss you so much, i need you." matt groans. "i know, baby, i need you too," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "i wish i could touch you, taste you, feel your body against mine. i'd run my hands all over your soft skin, teasing you until you were begging for more."

"tell me what you'd do to me," you beg, your fingers toying with the hem of your panties. "tell me how you'd make me feel."

"first, i'd kiss you, long and deep," he starts, his voice low and seductive. "i'd taste every inch of your mouth, claim you with my tongue. then i'd trail kisses down your neck, sucking and biting until i left marks on your skin…” you moan softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you imagine his lips on your body. your fingers slip beneath your panties, finding your clit and circling it slowly.

"then i'd move down to your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples until they were hard and aching," he continues, his voice rough with desire. "i'd worship your body with my mouth, kissing and tasting every inch of your skin." you whimper, your fingers moving faster against your clit. "more," you beg, your voice breathy and needy.

"then i'd spread your legs, baring your pretty pussy to me," he growls, and you can hear the hunger in his voice. "i'd lick you from top to bottom, tasting your sweetness. i'd fuck you with my tongue, thrusting it deep inside you until you were writhing and moaning beneath me." you cry out, your hips bucking against your hand. "matt, please," you whimper, your body trembling with need.

"fuck yourself on your fingers," he commands, his voice low and rough. "imagine it's my cock inside you, stretching you open, filling you up. i want you to feel me, even though i'm not there." you obey, sliding two fingers inside yourself, your walls clenching around them. you moan loudly, your hips rocking against your hand.

"that's it, baby," he encourages, his voice strained. "fuck yourself just like that, take what you need. imagine my hands on your body, my cock deep inside you." you hear him moan softly, and you realize he's stroking himself, his hand moving up and down his thick shaft. the thought of him jerking off to the sound of your moans sends a thrill through your body.

"you like that, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dirty. "you like knowing i'm stroking my cock, thinking about your tight little pussy. you're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?" you moan loudly, your fingers moving faster inside yourself. "yes," you whimper, your voice breathy and needy. "i'm—oh my gosh..”

"fuck, you're so hot," he groans, his breathing ragged. "i wish i could see you, see your fingers fucking your pussy, see your face as you cum. i’d give anything to be inside you right now, pounding into you until you screamed."

"matt," you gasp, your fingers curling inside yourself. "i'm so close, i need to cum!”

"cum for me," he growls, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "cum all over your fingers, let me hear you scream. i want to hear how good i make you feel, even from miles away." with a cry, you come undone, your body convulsing around your fingers. you moan his name over and over again, your hips bucking wildly. "that's it, baby," he purrs, his voice low and satisfied. "just like that. i wish i could be there to hold you, to taste your cum on my tongue, to feel your body against mine."

you hear his breathing quicken, his moans growing louder. "fuck, i'm gonna cum," he groans, his voice rough with pleasure. "i'm gonna cum thinking about you, about your tight pussy, your gorgeous body." with a loud moan, he comes undone, his cum spilling over his hand as he strokes himself through his orgasm. you listen to his moans, your body trembling with pleasure. "soon," you promise, your voice rough with emotion. "soon we'll be together again."

"i can't wait," he whispers. "until then, know that i love you, that i'm always thinking of you. i'll be dreaming of you tonight, of touching you and tasting you and fucking you until you scream." you laugh. "i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling with love and desire. as you lay in bed, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure, you know that no matter the distance between you, your love will always keep you connected.

© delilahsturniolo

taglist

[noctiva]

What about… waking him up with head??

I didn’t name them on purpose. dealers choice on who it is!

Dealer choice you say??? Okay. Let’s have a few!

Toby doesn’t even know what to do with himself at first. Waking up to the feeling of your soft lips wrapped around his cock, already so hard because you’ve worked up to a maddening degree before he even gets his eyes open. He’s waking up with a gasp, eyes wide and hazy, blinking a few times to try and figure out if this is just another dream of his, but then you suction around him and - fuck, yeah this definitely isn’t a dream.

“W-Woah, baby-“ Barely even able to form words, too awestruck and lost in pleasure to try and say something intelligent to you. His brain is mush. Foggy from sleep and wracked with ecstasy, he can’t do much but reach a hand down to cradle your head and just lie back and take it. His usually loud groans are swapped for sleepy soft grunts of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut again as he sinks back into the sheets and lets you do whatever you’d like.

It’s a shock sure, but he also wakes up with morning wood more often than not - so he can’t exact blame you for being proactive.

He’s probably too sleepy to actually fuck you, so he’ll probably return the favour by tugging you upwards after he cums - seating you on his face so that he can lazily lap at you until you’re falling to pieces.

-

Jack wakes up with a grunt. His whole body tensing up as the scent of your arousal floods his nostrils and shocks him awake. That’s the first thing he notices - the second is the velvety feel of your lips wrapped around him.

He’s shocked for maybe a total of 2 seconds before he’s letting out a breathless chuckle, sitting up a little and bringing a hand down to curl into your hair - tugging you upwards until your mouth is left empty with a filthy ‘pop’ that rings through the air.

“Little minx.” He’s breathing out, his grip tightening just to hear the pathetic whine you let out in response. His cock hard and leaking against his stomach, but as always around you - that’s the least of his worries. “Needed it so bad that you couldn’t wait a few more hours?” And you’re whimpering, lips still glistening with drool before he’s using his grip on you to shove you forwards towards his cock once more - his spit-slick length pressing against your cheek. “Go on. Finish what you started then.”

He says that, and yet this is probably (definitely) ending with him flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress - absolutely mind boggling stamina for someone who had supposedly just woken up.

(Maybe he had been awake for a little longer than he had made known)

-

Cody thinks he’s having a fucking stroke lmao. He’s iffy on physical affection in the first place, so this - this - is enough to have his entire body short circuiting.

If I’m going to be fr with you, he’s probably cumming mere moments after his eyes crack open - one hand flying down to grab your hair before he’s crumpling completely - too overwhelmed and overstimulated to even attempt to hold back once he’s figured out exactly what’s going on. Strained, surprised gasps that choke off into moans, almost physically unable to keep his eyes open though he would’ve loved to get an eyeful of you.

“Jesus Christ-“ Is all he can choke out before he’s tugging you downwards, eyebrows pinching together and hips bucking as he cums down your throat

He’s probably going to be a little salty that you didn’t wake him up first so that he could properly fuck you, but he’ll be returning the favour for you regardless don’t you worry! Lazily reaching into the night side table to pull out a latex glove to slip onto his hand before he’s plunging two fingers into you so quick it makes your throat close up. And all he’s got to say about it is, “Thought you were the only one with surprises, huh?”

You’re in tears by the end of it.

-

Brian’s taking it in stride. In fact, with the way he wakes up so immediately rearing to go, you’ll be left wondering if he was just pretending to sleep while you worked to wake him up.

“Aw, you’re the sweetest thing aren’t ya’?” He’s asking you softly, voice thick with sleep but just as fond - blinking sleep out his eyes to focus on the sight of your taking him all the way, nose nuzzling against his pelvis. “It’s like you knew I was dreamin’ about this exact thing. Thanks darlin’.” And then he’s reaching to the side, fingers closing around the camcorder he always keeps resting on the bedside table. Such a common sight, you’re not even surprised when he flicks the lens cap off and points it at you.

When the red recording light blinks awake, and his free hand comes down to cup the back of your neck - he’s flipping the script on you. Fucking his cock into your mouth as he zooms in on the sight of your lips wrapping around him - all viewed to him through the little screen on his camera. “Such a slut you couldn’t wait ‘til i woke up, huh?” When all he gets is a muffled whimper in response, he’s tugging you off of him, pulling your face right up to the lense. “Say it.”

It’s in your best interests to listen to him, because if you do, you’ll get rewarded with him tugging you upwards - setting you on his lap where he’ll make you bounce on his cock until you’re nothing but a gasping mess.

-

Tim is probably going to see how far you’ll go. Pretending to be asleep while you slobber all over him, just barely disguising the smirk his lips are itching to curl up into. Just barely biting back the soft rumbles of pleasure that were begging to be released. He’ll pretend to shift, kick his hips upwards just to feel you choke and sputter around him. Cracking an eye open to catch sight of you, but when he becomes to enamoured with the visual to close them again - that’s when you catch him.

“Tim!” You’re gasping out to him once you pull off of him - a line of spit connecting your glossy lips to his length. “How long have you been awake?”

“Does it matter?” He’s snorting out, eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you. “C’mon, don’t go stopping now - you were doing such a good job.” But he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push you, doesn’t reach a hand down to push your mouth back onto him. He lays back and gets comfortable, arms folding behind his head as he raises an eyebrow at you - like he knows you’ve got no choice but to fold.

And you do. He’ll finger you open while leaving sloppy kisses up and down your neck as a thank you for being so damn good for him.

-

Now why the hell would you ever think you could have the upper hand with Habit?

The moment he’s awake and his brain registers what’s going on, he is on you. You thought Brian was eager? HAH. Habit doesn’t even crack his eyes open before both hands are flying downwards to cup either side of your head - hips bucking up to fuck into your drooling mouth at a pace you hadn’t been anticipating at all. You’re choking and sputtering, whimpering and trying to pull off of him - but that just spurs him on. “Aw, what?” He’s huffing out a laugh. “Thought I’d be more gentle if you woke me up with it? Such a dumb slut.” Drool pooling around the base of his cock, tears spilling down your cheeks - and he’s laughing. Laughing at your struggle. “I don’t do gentle, rabbit. You should see what I do to you in my dreams.”

He’s fucking your throat until it’s raw, only further motivated by the way you whimper and cry around him. That’s when you look the best for him after all. So it shouldn’t be a surprise when he’s tugging you all the way down, filling you up until your nose hits his pelvis before he’s cumming down your throat - making you choke on it, his grip on your hair so tight it makes your scalp sting.

He’s not returning the favour lmao.

[writeriguess]

Reader has a solar-powered quirk, and is weakened by rain or bad weather. Trying to push past that weakness, she trains in the pouring rain, only to push herself to collapsing, running out of energy. Katsuki finds her, thinking the worst-and takes reader to recovery girl. She explains her reason behind pushing herself and some feelings are confessed. Maybe title it Little Miss Sunshine?

Little Miss Sunshine

The rain is relentless, a constant, drumming assault against your skin as you push yourself through another round of drills. Your limbs feel heavier with each passing second, every movement sluggish, like you’re fighting against an invisible force pressing down on you. You know it’s reckless to train in weather like this—your quirk thrives on sunlight, and without it, your strength dwindles to nothing. But that’s exactly why you’re here.

Because if you ever want to stand on the same battlefield as everyone else, you need to be strong—even when the sun isn’t shining.

You grit your teeth, throwing another punch. It’s weak. Useless. You try to pivot, but your legs tremble under you. Another step. Another breath. Another—

The world tilts violently. Your body gives out, hitting the drenched pavement with a dull thud.

You hear a voice before you see him.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, dumbass?!”

You blink blearily, rainwater stinging your eyes. Katsuki stands over you, drenched to the bone, crimson eyes wild with something between fury and panic. His hands are clenched into tight fists, tiny explosions crackling between his fingers. You can’t tell if it’s from anger or the sheer force of his emotions.

You try to push yourself up. Your arms don’t cooperate.

His expression darkens, and before you can protest, he’s crouching down and grabbing you, hauling you into his arms as if you weigh nothing.

“Wait—Katsuki—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, voice strained. “Just shut the hell up.”

Your head lolls against his shoulder. He’s warm. Unfairly warm. Your eyelids flutter, but you force them open, staring at the side of his face. There’s something tight about his expression, his jaw locked in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I’m fine,” you mutter weakly.

His hold tightens. “No, you’re not.”

—

By the time you regain full awareness, you’re in Recovery Girl’s office, wrapped in a thick, scratchy blanket. The rain is still audible outside, but here, the air is warm. Safe. Katsuki stands a few feet away, arms crossed, looking about two seconds away from blowing something up.

Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. “You’re lucky Bakugo found you when he did. If you’d stayed out there much longer, you could’ve gone into shock.”

You wince, guilt curling in your stomach. “I just wanted to get stronger.”

Katsuki’s head snaps toward you. “By nearly killing yourself?” His voice is sharp, but underneath it, there’s something else. Something raw.

You swallow hard. “I—” You inhale deeply. “I know my quirk has a huge weakness. If I can’t fight when the weather’s bad, what’s the point? I don’t want to be a liability. I don’t want to hold anyone back.”

His expression twists. His hands clench. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. Rougher.

“You think that’s what we think of you?”

You freeze.

His eyes burn into yours. “You think I’d let some weakling fight beside me?”

Your breath catches.

“You’re not a liability, dumbass.” His jaw works. “You don’t have to kill yourself to prove something that’s already fucking obvious.”

Something inside you cracks. You duck your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “You don’t get it, Katsuki. You’re strong, always. Even on your worst days, you don’t—” Your voice wavers. “I just wanted to be strong, too.”

Silence.

Then, the mattress dips. A hand lands on your head, fingers threading through your damp hair. Your eyes fly open, and Katsuki is right there, close enough that you can see the way his throat bobs.

“You are.”

The words are quiet, barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens.

His fingers twitch, then tighten in your hair. “Just—don’t do something that stupid again.” His eyes flick away, then back. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Warmth blooms under your ribs, something fragile and unbearably soft. You reach up, covering his hand with your own.

“I won’t,” you murmur.

Katsuki doesn’t move his hand. And for the first time since stepping into the rain, you finally feel warm.

[piastriprincess]

hold on and hope ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  exes  to  ???  ,  angst  ,  hurt  /  comfort word  count  3k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  !  sorry  i  had  to  tweak  it  a  bit  because  i’m  such  a   slow  writer  .  ummmmm  this  is  my  first  time  writing  angst  and  i’m  not  sure  it’s  good  .  i  hate  putting  lando  in  this  situation  …  personally  that’s  my  baby  and  i  need  to  tuck  him  into  bed  and  give  him  a  kiss  on  the  forehead  !  however  i  also  am  obsessed  with  exes  who  can’t  get  over  each  other  so  if  lando  has  to  go  through  a  little  emotional  pain  for  that  then  so  be  it  <3  come  tell  me  what  you  think  —  as  always  ,  my  inbox  is  open  for  requests  .  title  is  from  about  you  by  the  1975  !

When your phone rings this late, you know something’s wrong. 

It jolts you out of your sleep, ensconced in your warm duvet as the London rain falls softly on your roof. No one calls you this late anymore, you think, still half-asleep as you fumble for your phone. The artificial light slices through the darkness, knifing at your heavy eyes. Not since —

LANDO NORRIS, the phone reads, and suddenly you’re wide awake. 

You don’t remember when you changed his contact back to his full name. Sometime in the blur of weeks after the breakup, probably — something your friends or your therapist had told you to do, something to create emotional distance. Something that wouldn’t bring on a fresh wave of tears every time you remembered three years’ worth of silly texts and marathon FaceTimes from lan 🧡, before the nickname stung like salt poured into a wound you couldn’t stop reopening. 

Your phone keeps buzzing on your nightstand. You watch it like it’s a ticking time bomb, like if you pick it up it’s going to explode and shatter your heart into a million pieces all over again.

You tell yourself you’ll be fine, letting it go to voicemail. You’re doing the right thing. You’re protecting your heart. This is growth. And tomorrow, when you wake up and remember this wasn’t all some awful dream, you’ll be proud of yourself. Lando won’t call you again.

The phone buzzes a final time, the screen dimming slightly, and something coils tight and ugly in your chest at the sound. Not relief. Not peace. Just a sharp, suffocating panic. Lando won’t call you again. 

You don’t think. You just lunge for the phone and press the Answer button. 

“Lando?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken his name in six months. You hate the way it still flows off your tongue.

For a moment, static is all you hear. The thought crosses your mind that it was a butt dial, and it makes your heart sink in your chest. 

Then he clears his throat, and a sweet, horrible hope burns in your stomach. “Hey.” His voice is low and rough, like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in hours. “Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve called.”

“It’s okay,” you croak. Your voice feels heavy somehow, months worth of questions resting in the space between you.

“No, really, it’s late for you, and I wasn’t thinking —”

“Lando,” you say again, sharply but not unkindly. “Why are you calling me?”

“Fancied a chat,” he says, like it’s normal, even though you haven’t spoken since that final conversation where you both agreed to walk away and guard your hearts before the damage became unfixable. “No reason really.” Somewhere in the middle of the sentence, his voice starts cracking around the edges. It unfolds some of the wariness stuck in your chest. 

“You wouldn’t be calling me at 3 AM for no reason,” you sigh gently, sitting up and resting your back against your headboard. “What’s wrong?”

“Fucked it, didn’t I?” Lando sniffs, and then starts crying. 

It’s not the way he used to cry last year, when the championship race loomed large, when the distance between you started getting too wide for you to cross. Back then the tears were quiet, restrained, like he thought if he showed you how fucking scared he was you’d run away and never come back. He’d roll over and turn his back to you in bed, press his hands to his eyes, pretend he wasn’t unraveling. It was like he was locking you out of a door you wanted desperately to go through; it broke a tiny piece of your heart every time he didn’t let you in. 

This is different. This is him crying in earnest, cracking open for you, unfiltered, like he doesn’t care if you see the damage anymore. Like some part of him hopes you will. 

“Just — ‘M never fucking good enough,” he mumbles through the tears, and your heart shatters all over again. 

“Like. Jeddah last week. Qualified P-fucking-10. I got the car up to P4, but —” he pauses, hiccuping through the tears. “Couldn’t get podium, and lost the WDC lead. And I thought Miami would be better, but it’s not.” He laughs wetly, though nothing about it is funny. “Osc outqualified me again. Kimi put it on pole. A fuckin’ rookie.” He sniffles again, shifts on an identical bed three thousand miles away. “I just... I dunno what’s wrong with me.”

You tuck your feet under yourself and hum like you’re taking in new information. Like you didn’t watch Jeddah from start to finish two weeks ago, hands clammy with nerves as you watched him fly. Like you don’t still have alerts on your phone for his press conferences, like you didn’t watch the way his eyes dropped and flattened today when he said he wasn’t good enough. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Lan,” you say, holding the phone a little tighter against your ear. 

He doesn’t answer right away. You can hear him breathing, ragged and shallow, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “You don’t get it,” he whispers finally. “You were always the one who believed in me. Even when I didn’t.” His voice hitches, and the sound scrapes against your ribs. “And now you’re gone, and —” he swallows tightly. “I don’t know how to believe in myself without you.”

The words hit like a blow to the chest, your eyes pricking with hot tears. You open your mouth to speak, and nothing comes out. It’s like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you at the simple truth of it. He called because he needed you; you picked up because you needed him, too. 

“Shit,” Lando says, and your stomach drops when you realize you’ve been silent for too long. “M’sorry. That was — too much, probably. I, um… I shouldn’t have called.” His voice sounds small, brittle. Closed-off, again. The ache you feel at the sound is all too familiar.  

“Lando,” you try feebly, but it sounds pathetic even to your ears. He just bared his soul, and what did you give him in return? Silence on a phone line, three thousand miles away. 

“It’s fine. I’m okay, really,” he says, and you don’t need five years of knowing everything about him to be able to tell he’s lying through his teeth. “Just — needed to hear your voice. I should get some sleep, probably. Let you get some rest, too. Lo- Bye,” he croaks into the phone, and you just catch the beginning of an open-mouthed sob before the line goes dead. 

You don’t think. You just pull up a new tab and search next flight to miami with shaking fingers.

An hour and a half later, you’re sitting in a plane seat, sending a frantic text to Oscar for Lando’s hotel and room number. The pilot crackles through the radio as the crew prepares for takeoff, informing you about the temperature and time zone at your destination. 

According to the intercom, it will still be 3 AM in Miami when you land. You hug your knees to your chest and try not to think about what it means to travel back in time, about whether you’re flying back to a past where the two of you were still everything to each other.  

—

Lando doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the ceiling. Long enough for the sky to darken from sunset to twilight to inky blackness, at least. He hasn’t slept. Just laid there and cried, clutching his phone to his chest like if he holds on hard enough, he can conjure the soft sound of your voice again.

It was selfish of him, really, to have called you. He knows it was after 3 AM where you were, saw it plain as day on the stupid timezone widget that he can’t bring himself to delete off his lockscreen. But — everything feels like it’s falling apart around him, and you always know how to talk him off the ledge. 

Knew how, he thinks bitterly. Before he stopped letting you in. Before he fucked everything up with no hope of fixing it. Before he let you walk away. 

Drivers tend to overthink their decisions, and Lando’s no exception. What if I’d taken that turn a little wider? Tried to overtake at turn 12, instead of 13? Mostly, as his new mindset coach reminds him over and over, it’s a losing battle. You race how you race. You can’t change it after the fact, and one bad decision doesn’t outweigh the good ones. He knows that, even if he can’t quite accept it.

But Lando knows this, too: out of all the bad decisions he’s made in his life, letting you go was the worst. 

He still remembers the balm of being loved by you. The soothing, quiet steadiness of it, like a warm blanket dulling all the noise, tethering him to something real. You had this way of seeing him, even when he didn’t know how to show you the worst parts of himself. And God, he tried so hard to keep those parts hidden, to be enough for you. But he wasn’t. Not back then.

Maybe he still isn’t. He’s trying, but he’s selfish. Weak. Pathetically in love with you, even now.

The room feels too still in the hours after the call, like it’s holding its breath with him. The only sound is the muted crash of the waves breaking on the beach outside and the echo of the phone call lingering in his brain, your voice calling him Lan tucked somewhere precious in his memory. He wonders if he’ll ever get to really hear you again.

That’s when he hears the knock. Two taps, one long, one short. Your knock, from what feels like a million lifetimes ago. A little more hesitant than he remembers, but. It’s yours.  

He doesn’t think. He just scrambles to the door, throwing it open like he’s hoping he’ll see a ghost on the other side. And there you are. 

“Hey,” you say cautiously. 

He just drinks you in for a moment. He’s seen you since the breakup, of course. Stalked your Instagram more than he cares to admit, watching your life slowly morph into something he didn’t recognize. First you left Monaco for London. Then you cut your hair. Got a new job. Started smiling in photos again, even when it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Lando remembers a particularly embarrassing moment a few months ago where he practically begged Max to ask P to ask you if you were seeing anyone based on what he thought was a male forearm in the corner of photo 18 in a 20-slide carousel.

All this to say: even though you were changing, he thought he remembered you. What you looked like, how you moved. 

But seeing you in person — eyes heavy and red-rimmed, fingernails bitten to the quick, hair flattened on the side like you’d leaned against the plane window — it guts him in a way he didn’t expect. He’d forgotten how visceral your beauty is. How it cuts into him like a shard of glass.

“You came,” he finally says hoarsely, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

You just shrug, running a hand through your hair the way you always used to, and the sameness of it lodges into his chest. “You called.”

It shouldn’t knock the air out of his lungs the way it does. But it does, because for a second, it sounds like before. Before, when you smiled at him like you were already halfway to forgiving him for things he hadn’t fucked up yet. Before, when you whispered his name like a promise, not an ache. 

He stands there stupidly for a beat, you in the hallway, him inside the room. The doorway in between the two of you. The chance to let you in, one more time. 

“Come in,” he says, stepping back, and when you walk in it’s like the air shifts. Like the place has stopped holding its breath, even though Lando’s still holding his. He watches you place your bag on the ground, walk to the window and stare out at the vast expanse of beach and ocean below. The silence yawns between you two. 

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he says, and it sounds stupid even to his own ears. 

You don’t look at him. “Neither did I.”

He tries to ignore the way the words feel — like you’ve just pressed your thumb into a fresh bruise just to make him feel the ache. “Probably shouldn’t have called,” he mumbles to the carpet, head down and humiliated. He can feel the tears pricking at his eyes again. He’s probably cried enough tonight to fill up whichever ocean it is you’re looking at right now. 

“Glad you did,” you say quietly, and something like hope surges suddenly in his chest. When he looks up, you’re not looking at the ocean anymore. You’re looking at him with those beautiful eyes, walking slowly towards him like he’s a wild animal you don’t want to spook. “I saw the interview. I was worried about you.” You swallow thickly, and Lando’s eyes catch on your lips. “I never stopped worrying about you.” 

He doesn’t think. Just surges toward you, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear like a specter if he doesn’t hold on with both hands. Your arms come up like a reflex, one smoothing the curls at the nape of his neck, the other around his waist as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he tries to say, but the words come out somewhere between a sigh and a sob, like the weight of everything he’s wanted to say to you for half a year has finally found a place to land. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he tries again, whispering it into your skin over and over like he can thread the two of you back together with it. 

“Oh, Lan,” you sigh, shaking your head gently, and Lando’s knees nearly buckle when your lips brush against his temple. “You don’t have to —”

“I do,” he insists, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your eyes are glassy, lashes clumped together. “I’m sorry I called you. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I shut you out when all you did was love me.” He rakes a shaking hand through his curls, like it might bring him back down to earth. “I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t care. I’m sorry I thought if I stayed that I’d drag you down with me. I’m sorry I thought not having you would be better than missing you every single minute of every single fucking day.” A single tear drops down your cheek, and Lando has to fight the insane urge to kiss it off, to taste the salt on his tongue. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to stop loving you,” he says, finally, voice breaking around the words.

“You hurt me,” you whisper back, but your eyes are still trained on his. You don’t look away, and neither does he. No one’s running now; it’s just the ugly, naked, raw truth bared between you after six months of hiding from it.

“I know,” he says, and he can feel the wet on his cheeks. Your fingers make their way out of his curls, slide around his face to cup his cheek and brush the tears off. 

“I still love you,” you admit, pressing your forehead against his. The words, the contact, it fucking dizzies him. It’s everything he hasn’t dared to hope for. “I wouldn’t have flown here if I didn’t. But love isn’t enough if you’re still the person who let me walk away.”

“I’m not,” he blurts immediately, the words rushing together almost as fast as the correction. “I mean, I’m trying not to be. I’m still figuring it out,” he stammers out. His voice would be shaking a lot more if he couldn’t see the hope in your eyes. It steadies him a little, knowing that you still believe in him. “But I want to be the version of myself who deserves another chance with you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for how I hurt you, if you let me.”

There’s a long, aching pause. 

Then: “Okay,” you say, like you’re testing the weight of it on your tongue. “Okay.”

He leans forward, tentatively, like he’s not sure you’ll let him move much further, afraid that he’ll break whatever this fragile thing is between you. His eyes search yours one last time for permission, and when you don’t pull away, when your lips part just the slightest bit, he closes the space. His mouth brushes against yours, featherlight at first, more question than certainty. You answer him with a soft exhale, your hand against his cheek anchoring him there. The kiss is careful and reverent, like he’s relearning the shape of you. Your fingers curl into the fabric at his shoulder, pulling him closer to you, and the moment feels like the first sunlight after a long winter — warm and golden, almost too good to believe.

You end up curled together on the bed. Not saying much, just existing in the same space again. At some point, you drift off, but Lando can’t quite follow you. He’s afraid to fall asleep in case it’s a dream, scared to blink and find the bed empty again. But when the sun starts peeking over the horizon, your fingers are still wrapped around his, grounding him. 

It’s not all fixed. Not yet. But as Lando watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, your fingers still intertwined with his, all he can feel is relief that he’s finally, finally done something right.

[reidyourpalms]

busy woman

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

MDNI | 18+

masterlist | main masterlist | requests

simon is infatuated the second he sees you, wanting to know everything about you - your name, your address, how you taste. so he knew he had hit the jackpot when you strutted over to him swaying your hips seductively as if he needed any more convincing that you were going home with him. but nothing could have prepared him for what was about to come out of that pretty plump mouth of yours, especially when you’re dressed up in ribbons and pink frills.

‘i could be your perfect missus in any way’

simon couldn’t help the little smile that tugged on his lips as he rubbed his chin softly, looking at you like you were his prey.

‘didn’t expect such a pretty little thing to say somethin’ like that. fuck’

simon heard a little giggle breeze past your lips and knew he was completely gone, offering to buy you a drink which you swiftly accepted - wrapping your manicured hand around his bulky arm as you walk with him towards the bar.

you got to know each other, simon asking all the important questions like how many kids you wanted so he could plan the house he needed to build, and how many times he needed to fill you up.

he doesn’t know how but eventually he ends up in your apartment, the one that is undeniably yours, all pink and proper. but he only notices that because he’s backed you up against your wall kissing you deeply whilst holding the back of your neck as if something would snatch you away from him.

'such a pretty little thing aren't ya?' simon spoke gruffly as he grinded slightly against your leg.

'please, plea-'

'please what baby, i'm gonna need more than that'

'just please fuck me.' you pleaded bluntly, your doe like eyes looking into his. he let out a guttural moan at the mere idea - 'who can say no to eyes like that swee'heart?'

he turns you around swiftly, spreading your legs with one of his own. he wastes no time pulling down your white flowy dress, leaving you only in your underwear. simon does a sharp intake at the sight of you in your baby pink lacy panties, as if you knew you were destined to find him tonight.

'what a sight, got a little damp spot already do ya?' simon says as he runs one of his thick fingers along your clothes slit causing you to shudder in response. 'wet at the thought of me like a good little whore.' he growls in your ear causing your pussy to clench, your breathing becoming erratic.

he brings both of his hands down to your panties and roughly rips them in half. 'no siii, i really liked them ones,' you say sulking. 'i'll buy you more baby, don't worry your pretty little mind.' simon replies gruffly as he unzips his pants.

'i'm not usually a selfish man but i've gotta get in you swee'heart' he says as he runs himself along your slit. you whimper and immediately he pushes straight in, bottoming out. he never thought he’d feel so good, your walls so tight around his cock, squeezing like you wanted to milk him dry the second he entered you.

‘i ain’t gonna last long in som’thin’ as sweet as you’ simon grunted out, each word matched with a thrust. he pushed in and out of you at an unforgiving pace, with every thrust filling you fully.

‘i’m gonna fill this sweet pussy, fill you with one of them babies’ you clenched around him as his dirty words, the thoughts of a family making you joyous. ‘oh you like that baby? you’re tryna milk me dry’

‘cum in me si, please’ you plead, pushing against him as hard as you can. he grunts and his cock stutters at your words, immediately filling you to the brim as an orgasm that could have been read on the richter scale runs through every nerve in your body.

‘you’re mine forever now baby’

did i cook is the question bc your girl just wrote her first piece of smut. yipee.

request anything you want bbgs

[f1smutwriter]

| 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 (𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔, 𝐋𝐍𝟒)

★ :: Experienced!Lando x Experienced!Charles Semiexperienced! reader

Pt1, Pt2, Pt3

★ : Summary :: She realized she needed them both but does she tell them

★ : Warning :: SMUT! masterbating(fem), fingering, oral(fem rec, male rec), riding, unprotected sex (sit your ass down), breast play, anal, making out, teasing, spitting kink, slight spanking, pet names (baby, darling, amour), double penetration at the same time, hair pulling, begging a ton of begging, poly relationship, mentions of uncomfortable situation at the end, more I probably missed

★ : Notes:: Sooooo I haven't written in so freaking long, like 6 months type long. But I'm back and I have so many things I want to write because they are even finer this year. Also so many people wanted a fourth in this series so this is it the last and final part. Your welcome

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“Baby I’m home” Charles called out walking inside the house after the longest triple header ever. When he came in he didn’t hear my usual running footsteps to him. But he heard the faint sounds of your whimpers something that became very familiar. He made his way to the room opening it ever so slightly so he didn’t give away his presence.

He saw me there naked body on top of our shared bed breathless and trying to find my high with my fingers, something I could never achieve without him. “Fuck” he whispered under his breath watching my hips bucking into my hand. His pants got tighter, his breath got heavier, and his hands were yearning to touch me.

He opened the door announcing to me that he was there but he saw my eyes shut trying to rub my clit to the orgasm I was never gonna get to. “This is what you do when you miss me huh?” He hummed out loud making my eyes jolt out and closing my eyes in pure embarrassment. “N-no only when I need it” I muttered out trying to get my heart to calm down but it felt like it was gonna beat out of my chest.

“No” he said in his accent that I loved and made me soaked. Usually he had that cocky smirk or a smile but not this time it was lust. Pure and utter lust. “What were you thinking in that pretty head while touching yourself” he questioned me while he walked towards me. “You” I stammered out. He knew that wasn’t fully the truth that I was thinking about him but not just him. “So we’re lying now” he replied looking at me with a slight smile.

“I’m not” I tried to reason but he knew me too well. “Wrong answer sweetheart” he grinned making his way towards me. “I’ll touch you but what were you thinking of” he whispered in my ear making shivers run down my spine as he slowly had his hand inch up towards my pussy. “Don’t be mean” I whined bucking my hips needing him but that was no use.

“You either say what you were thinking or you get left with this needy pussy untouched” he smirked slowly brushing over my clit making me whine even louder. “Fine I was thinking of you and lando” I cried out needing it. “Please touch me can’t take it anymore” I added bucking my hips to his hand.

“Good girl I knew you were thinking of him” he smiled slowly rubbing my clit giving me the release I was needing. I gasped slightly trying to guide his fingers in me. “Baby please need them in me” I begged with those eyes I knew he couldn’t resist.

“How about you fuck yourself on them while I call lando. Okay?” He said with a smile making me nod softly understanding immediately what he was planning on doing. I sink my pussy on his thick feelings feeling my eyes close and my head lean back as the tip of them hits my g-spot deliciously.

I moved my hips in a slow teasing motion wanting to build up my orgasm. Charles was calling lando as he watched me fuck myself on his fingers “how’s it feel Princesse” he asked kissing my chest sucking on my nipples giving me the extra source of pleasure. “Tellement bien Charles, ça fait tellement du bien s’il te plaît ne t’arrête pas” I moaned out gripping his shoulders to level myself. (So good Charles, it feels so good please don't stop)

Then we both heard the sound of the ringing stop and through the phone we hear Lando’s wetting British accent. “Hey mate. what’s up?” Lando asked thing Charles was gonna ask him for help with something, which wasn’t far off from the truth. “Do you think you can come over and help me with something” Charles asked giving me a knowing smirk as he curls his fingers right into my g-spot making me let out a whimper moan.

"Ahh, I see can hear her through the phone" he mentioned being able to hear his mischievous smirk on the other side of the phone. "Glad you caught on, front doors open just let yourself in" Charles laughed before hanging up the phone. He gently lays me down before fingering my pussy so hard causing my breath to leave my lungs. I let out the loudest moan that our entire apartment complex pretty much heard.

“Pl-ease” I moaned out gripping his wrist as he drilled his fingers in and out. He smirked softly kissing my neck. “Fuck your so wet and tight can’t wait to fuck you with lando here” he whispered into my ear making my pussy clench around his digits. I felt my cunt get absolutely demolished with just his finger. My mind was in pure heaven as my voice let out the loudest noises on earth noises I didn’t even know I was able to make.

“Close, m’gonna cum please make me cum” I cried my legs quivering the similar feeling in my stomach tightening every thrust he makes. “Then cum baby be a good girl and cum for me” he smiled before rubbing my clit letting my orgasm crash into me like a tsunami. “Wow such a gorgeous sight darling” I hear from the doorway the same nickname I had heard 2 weeks ago, which makes me open my eyes.

I smiled the second I saw him missing his presence. “Miss me princess” he smiled kissing my lips gently . I nod softly as I was still dizzy from the orgasm Charles just gave me. “Did a real number on her leclerc” Lando laughed softly kissing my head.

“So I heard you missed me” he asked softly looking at my vulnerable state making me nod. He smiled kissing me softly causing me to kiss back. “Gonna take care of our girl huh leclerc” he said to Charles while Charles nods biting his lip. “You know the drill Mon amour hands knees like a good girl” Charles told me sternly but softly at the same time.

So I did what I was told not wanting to cross them. I went on my hands and knees feeling so vulnerable and exposed to them almost like I needed to cover up. “So pretty love” Lando said softly kissing my lips as I feel Charles lick my sensitive cunt. I moaned loudly closing my eyes. “Very sensitive pussy” he mumbled into it before pulling away. “Would you like a taste” Charles offered Lando making him smiled before eating me out.

“So good” I gasped out my thighs shaking before he stopped. “Where do you want Charles love” Lando asked me softly. “Anywhere just please” I begged softly needing them. “You take her I want the back” Charles said with a smirk on his face. “Come it on my lap love” Lando told me as he takes his cock out of his pants. I slowly sink down on him causing me to loose all the air out of my lungs.

“What’s wrong darling to much” Lando teased as he bottomed out in me. I shake my head no, my hands on his chest while I bite my lip so hard I was afraid of it bleeding. "So tight babe, even after getting this pretty cunt stretched out by Charles fingers" He teased me before bucking his hips up into mine making me let out the loudest moan ever.

Then I felt the feeling of Charles's finger playing with my other hole. "You think you're ready for both again" Charles whispered into my ear while kissing my neck. I nod instantly wanting them both like last time. Then he put lube on himself groaning at the sensation lightly.

"Let me help mate" Lando offered making Charles look a bit surprised but nodding. He felt Lando's hand wrapped around his cock feeling ten times better than his own. All Lando did was smirk stroking Charles cock faster.

I felt myself giggle at the interaction between them since they've never touched each other only me. "Nice view" I say to them both with a smile as I bite my lip. "Sorry amore" He said thinking I was weirded out. "I liked it I promise" I smiled reassuring them both not wanting them to worry.

"Okay good to know" Lando whispered looking at Charles the same way he looks at me when he wants a kiss. So Charles looked at me for reassurance making me nod softly before they leaned in their lips touching for the first time.

Seeing them kiss for the first time gave me a sense of happiness for all of us stepping a step forward in this. Then Charles slipped in me without any warning feeling myself moan digging my nails in Lando's air. "Ssshhh feel him love, feel how deep he is inside you" Lando whispered softly rubbing my clit gently calming me down.

I nod giving them the green light to start moving, they both slowly moved in and out making sure to go gentle. The way the night started I would have no thought it would have led to Charles and Lando fucking me slowly gently. Way different from the other time we were all together.

Lando was leading while Charles was following him, both of them going in and out almost like a melody. I let out soft moans leaning into Charles chest needing someone to hold me through this euphoric moment. "I got you baby, I got you" He whispered thrusting in and out of me with such passion and gentleness.

Lando watched me and Charles in pure awe seeing Charles care about me and deep in his chest he felt protectiveness between me and Charles. Needing us both not in a 'sex buddies' type way but in a 'I think I love you' type way. But he couldn't tell us not when Charles and me were committed. "Hey what's wrong" I asked softly seeing Lando zone out rubbing his chest.

"Lost you there for a bit" Charles said a bit concerned on him making sure everything was okay. "yeah sorry was a bit overwhelmed, we can finish" Lando said sounding not so sure about continuing. "No tell us whats wrong" I pushed wanting to see what was bothering him. I slowly got off of him siting down next to him.

"Are you not into it or do you not feel good" I asked gently wanting him to feel comfortable enough to tell us. "Yeah no judgement if you're not into it anymore" Charles mentioned to see if that was the problem.

"It's not that, it's just" He started not sure if he should speak how he feels. But then he looked at us the concerned almost loved look in our eyes, not the look you give a friend. Then he gave me a look making me recognized it instantly, the soft gaze his eye brows slightly furrowed. "Oh" is all I happened to muttered out in the moment,"Yeah" He says back. "Okay what is going on I'm so lost" Charles asked with the most priceless look on his face.

"Would you like me to tell him" I say holding Lando's hand softly. He nodded trusting me in this moment all the trust he had. "Lando think's he loves us" I say to Charles as he gives a shocked face, a face I haven't seen Charles give ever.

"Is that true" Charles whispered softly making Lando shiver at the deep voice. "if it helps I feel the same" I smiled at him squeezing his hand. "Why do you think I told Charles he knew before you got here we planned this whole thing" I giggled slightly making him look at us confused. "Wait actually" he questioned not believing us at all.

He looked at Charles while he nodded with a smile on his face. "I hate you both" He chuckled softly shaking his head. "No you don't you love us" Charles teased him poking his side. "Fine fine maybe I do" Lando admitted as Charles when to the other side of him. "Wanna stay for a while" I whispered to him cuddling to his side. "Yeah just a little while" He whispered back looking at us with a different look he had then when he walked into to the house.

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★ : 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :: I really hope y'all like this, its a bit different from my other smuts just wanted to switch it up a little. If you guys like my smuts like this you can always ask for more my request are open. Hope you guys have a good day loves.

[mrsbarnesblog]

i've got you

masterlist

summary: after getting a terrifying message from you manipulative ex, you lock yourself in the Camerons’ guest bathroom, spiraling into panic as everything starts to fall apart. what you don't expect is Rafe walking in and completely losing it when he realizes what’s going on.

word count: 2k

warnings: SA (non-consensual recording and sex while being drunk), blackmailing, panic attack, protective Rafe

The guest bathroom in the Cameron’s house felt like the safest place at the moment, and the second you closed the door, you collapsed on the floor, constantly buzzing with your phone still in your hand. 

It’s been like that for the last hour—endless messages from your ex, Ethan, who hasn’t wanted to leave you alone since you two broke up a few weeks ago. But when you were sitting with Sarah in the kitchen while she was cooking something on the stove and your phone lit up with a message, a video of you from him, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

Your hands started shaking violently, tears blurred your vision, as you couldn’t believe what you saw. It was just a preview, just a few seconds, but it was enough to understand. It was you on the bed, the dress from a few months ago when you went out with Ethan and some friends was gathered around your waist. You remember being drunk, barely conscious when he took you home, and then the next morning with pain all over your body. 

You didn’t remember having sex.

Sarah was oblivious to your breakdown, and you quickly managed to slip away from the kitchen, mumbling to her that you needed to use the restroom. 

You sat on the floor, back against the wall, staring at your phone screen with your heart thudding so hard it echoed in your ears. A consuming panic washed over you when messages kept coming from him.

Ethan (1:08 PM):

You really think I won’t do it? You think I won’t show them what you let me record? And i have more

Ethan (1:09 PM):

You looked so sweet in that video. Moaning for me like a slut. I bet Sarah’s brother would LOVE to see it.

Your blood turned to ice.

You don’t remember agreeing to anything. You would never have let that happen. He must’ve taken the pictures and videos without you knowing. You’d trusted him, loved him, been so fucking stupid—

It must be a nightmare. It should be, right? Ethan was bothering you, trying to convince you to go back to him, but straight up blackmailing you? You curled into yourself tighter, digging your nails into your thighs, as hiccups and cries shook your whole body. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t stop your mind from racing because there was nothing you could do. No one who could help. And if those images were released? If they were sent to Rafe? You would be done for. 

The door cracked open before you could even register it, and the person whom you wanted to see the least in that state stood in the doorway. 

“Yo,” Rafe said casually. “Sarah said you were—“ Your head whipped up in panic at his voice, eyes growing wide, before you started desperately wiping at your face to hide the flow of your tears. But he froze when he saw you on the floor, looking so small and helpless. 

“The fuck—“ He muttered, stepping inside slowly, cautiously. “Hey, what the fuck’s goin’ on?” 

“Nothing.” You croak, voice raspy. “I’m fine. Just— just leave, Rafe.” 

“You’re crying. You don’t look fine.” 

“I said I’m—” You started to snap, but your voice cracked halfway through, and then you choked back a sob, curling in again.

“Fuck.” He muttered again under his breath, kneeling in front of you. “What happened?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as if it would make the situation not real. But you couldn’t hide the way your face scrunched as if you were in pain or hide the bubbling feeling of pure panic, and Rafe saw that. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who hurt you, hm? You can talk to me, I promise.” His voice was smooth and soft as never before. When he raised his hand to softly brush the side of your face, it was slow and cautious to not scare you even more. You open your mouth to lie, to say that it was just stress, or your parents, or your period, but your phone, lying face up on the tiles, lit up with another message, and your whole body went rigid.

Rafe’s eyes flicked down, instantly seeing the name, then looked back at you with curiosity and a hint of defensiveness. He knew the story between you and your ex. He saw how he treated you, saw you struggling to keep it all together, and he was the first one to congratulate you when you finally announced your breakup. 

So seeing you react like that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Let me see.” It was not an order, but his words were firm as he took hold of your wrist. You shook your head violently, wanting to hide your phone and downplay everything. 

“No— Rafe, don’t look!” 

He snatched your phone away before you could even process it, fingers moving quickly to unlock it. 

The heavy silence filled the room when his eyes scanned your screen, seeing the message you didn’t even read yourself. “What. The. Fuck.” He looked up at you, jaw clenched, eyes wide with barely contained rage. “Is this real?”

He suddenly stood up, his actions almost frantic and panicked, and you jump up from the floor right after him as if automatically. You wanted to rip your phone away, but there was no point anymore—he saw everything, and you were way too tired and exhausted to fight anyway. 

The silence that hung in the bathroom was suffocating, crushing, pulsing with the weight of everything that had just been revealed. Rafe stood there like a statue, gripping your phone so tightly his knuckles turned bone white, and his chest rose and fell with each sharp, shaky inhale, like he was barely containing an explosion. His jaw was clenched so hard you thought he might grind his teeth to dust. You could see the way his whole body was vibrating with fury, and when his eyes lifted from the phone to meet yours, they weren’t just angry. They were wild. Dark. Protective in a way that made your throat close up.

“What the fuck is this?” He spat, low and dangerous, his voice barely more than a growl. “What the actual fuck am I looking at right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You weren’t even crying anymore, you were just frozen. Humiliated. All you could do was curl your arms around your body tighter as the shame flooded you, soaked into your skin, and made you want to disappear. Rafe’s eyes dropped back to the screen, and you followed his gaze as he was staring at the first image. It was you, lying on Ethan’s bed. Your head turned to the side, half-lidded eyes, a soft expression that you now recognized as tipsy, barely coherent. The straps of your tank top were pushed down around your upper arms. No bra. The thin sheet pulled across your body did nothing to hide your exposed chest. One of the other photos was taken from behind with you on your stomach, bare, the lower half of your body completely visible, the shape of your thighs and your ass captured without any shame.

“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice cracking and dry, and it felt like you couldn’t even breathe properly. “I swear to God, Rafe… I didn’t know he took them.” You didn’t look up, feeling shame and embarrassment washing over you. “H-he sent me a video.” You whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure if you said it aloud at first, your eyes zeroing on the floor as your whole doby went numb. But Rafe heard you. He tensed instantly, hands stiffening around your phone still in his hand.

“A video?” He repeated, slowly. Carefully. His voice was like the calm before a hurricane. “What video?”

You nodded, trembling. “Of us. Of me, mostly. I—I was drunk, and he filmed everything. I don’t even remember it, but h-he sent it to me today.” 

You broke again then, sliding down on the floor, helpless, sobbing so hard your body curled in on itself, your hands covering your face, unable to bear the thought of Rafe picturing you like that—not just naked, but used. Taken advantage of. 

For a long moment, Rafe didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there, chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, phone still gripped in his hand like he was about to smash it against the wall. Then, slowly, he lowered it on the countertop, and something in him cracked. Your cries, how desperate and sad they sounded, made him lose his mind, made him want to destroy everything and everyone who hurt you. 

His hands ran through his hair roughly as he looked away, trying to keep it together, despite fuming from the inside. But it wasn’t working. His entire body was tense, like a live wire ready to snap. He pounded his fist into the bathroom wall so hard that you heard a crack, and you jumped from the loud sound. The last thing you wanted was for him to hate you or to see you in a different light after those pictures.  

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He said immediately, his voice breaking. He dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers twitching like he didn’t know how to touch you to not scare you even more. “I’m not mad at you. I swear I’m not. I’m just—I’m losing my fucking mind here, baby.” That word slipped out like it was natural for him, and your breath hitched. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks, his blue, wild eyes looking for yours, while he tried to wipe your tears.

“That motherfucker is dead.” He hissed, voice rough with emotion. “I’m not even fucking joking. I will kill him. He touched you when you were barely conscious? He fucking recorded you? Sent that shit to you as a threat? Threatened to show me?”

“He knows what you mean to me. He wants you to see me that way so I wouldn’t have any choice but to go back to him.” You whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I just—fuck, Rafe, I feel so ashamed. I feel disgusting. I didn’t want you to see this version of me, not through his eyes.”

“You think I give a single fuck about how you look in those videos or photos? About what you did with him?”

You looked down again, shaking, unable to meet his eyes.

“I do care.” He said, softer, lifting your face up again. “But not because you were naked. I care because it wasn’t your choice. That wasn’t you, baby. That was him taking advantage of you. And that makes me want to destroy every bone in his fucking body.”

You finally met his gaze again. His jaw was clenched so tight you could hear it grind, and his eyes were glistening with the kind of rage that came from caring too much.

Rafe leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His hands were on your thighs now, still shaking slightly. “You’re mine. Even if we’re not together yet. ” He said, barely above a whisper, like it was a truth he hadn’t even realized until that moment. “I wanted you for too long, let that scumbag treat you the way you didn’t deserve. But you’re fucking mine, and I swear to God, I’m not letting anyone hurt you like that again.” You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I’m gonna take care of this.” He muttered, so close you could feel his breath. “You don’t have to do a thing. You don’t even have to see that piece of shit again. I’m gonna make sure he never gets near you, never gets the chance to make you feel this way. Nobody will ever see that stuff, you hear me?”

“Rafe…” Your voice cracked again, barely holding together, tugging him closer by the shirt, seeking more comfort.

“Shh.” He whispered, brushing your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve fucking got you.”