#by how close we are to it. not THAT close bc work makes me write 600-1k words a week AT BEST but still

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[francy-sketches]

I'm gonna have to work on my final project non stop for like a month straight bc I procrastinated on it too much fuck my stupid baka life

[caswlw]

the idea that they’re writing the season as they go so they’re seeing the reaction the audience has and that it (even in the smallest way possible) could have an impact on what happens this season (and in future seasons) is so wild to me. not saying that they’re seeing our response and saying “oh that sounds good, totally writing that in,” but it’s not impossible to say that they will see what the people want, realize the best way to generate buzz and excitement and increased viewership is to keep your fans happy, and then actually do something about it instead of killing characters/storylines just for kicks

911 has the opportunity to be that bitch even more than it already is and they shouldn’t squander it while they’re on top

[animecreator3000]

Every time I rewatch some episode of Boueibu HK I wonder again how the staff even planned this season. Like. Almost nothing meaningful happens with the characters

TLDR the characters with the most developement in HK are the monsters

Kyoutarou is there as a complete contrast to Yumoto while keeping the battle speeches so his characterization doesn't make much sense. Nanao is mere fujoshi bait. Taiju and Taishi have random bits of dialogue that hint at possible arcs for s2 but not enough to tell us what it really is. Maasa has an unfinished arc in his episode, where supposedly he's putting fatty butter in his cookies to make everyone else overweight because he resents Ichiro not defending him when they were little, but then his friends tell him it's fine and then he can move on??? This would work with Ichiro's theme of not wanting to be immature or dense anymore, except they only ever used this theme as a gag (misunderstanding the meaning of whatever the others have said) or to straight up humilliate him (ep4) and continue treating him like a stupid baby. At the end of the season Maasa and him have made peace somehow and that's it. Ata gets in my opinion the closest thing to a complete arc, even if it's just staring angrily at Kyoutarou for ten episodes, then explaining his problem while fighting him and finally getting his apology and reconcilliation. At least it's something. And poor Ryouma is just there to be the butt of a few jokes about how he lets Nanao and Kyoutarou use him, be in a couple of cute shippy scenes, and also for Ata to completely dismiss him from the flashbacks to the point where if they had first met in high school nothing would've changed.

The relationships barely have developement either. Love had anime episodes and manga chapters dedicated to the different close friendships solving their conflicts and becoming closer. There were also many instances of seeing how close the Hakone brothers-defense club and Beppu brothers' relationships were, and even though they didn't have any conflict between themselves, they made them strong sides for the final fight. Yumoto didn't get a character arc but through the entire anime he was revealed to be strong, considerate, forgiving and mature, willing to kindly befriend the Beppu twins for his brother but not let them walk all over him; contrary to how he was presented in the first episodes, like a stereotypical magical girl protagonist. Anyway in HK there's no meaningful conflict between any of them besides Kyoutarou and Ata. Taishi and Ichiro argue constantly but don't show to genuinely like each other after all like IoRyuu or EnAtsu did. Ichiro and Maasa never make any progress to be together again, Maasa hints once at liking Taishi and nothing comes from it, and Nanao and Taiju have the most artificial friendship in the cast that I just do not understand. They just ran an ice cream shop once with again unexplained success and make sassy remarks at each other ever since. And I guess Karurusu and Furanui had a bit of developement thanks to Kyou and Ata in ep12. Idk about the aliens, this time it's like they didn't do it completely well but also not as bad as with the rest of the cast. Maybe bc they didn't appear as much as the humans in most of the episodes

I'm realizing now that a few of these complaints are related to Nanao acting weird

Idk where to put this but I'd like to point out Kinshiro's principles of halting the fight with the Battle Lovers as soon as he finds out that the s1 conflict was set up for a reality show and actively defending them from an attack because they're Binan students, despite still not having received his apology from Atsushi. Ata might've done the same if the HK finale's events had gone in the same order (travelling to Honyalaland to fight Wao, then Kyoutarou apologizing to Ata), but he doesn't feel as a character as deep as Kinshiro in that sense bc they didn't really show him to be in other ways.

Love feels more like an actual group of people while HK feels like they were filling in friendship group roles or something

[astrxealis]

hiii :333 i think i am alive !! ( small update in da tags )

[silverislander]

i have 7 assignments, total, left in school. once i finish those i'm going to be done- i graduate in may which is WILD to think about. i just have to fucking do them

[youwerelikeanangel]

i need to write but i cant write i need to do research but i cant do research i need to get into doing this but it is not working

[everymlmhybrid]

The fact my fic will someday actually be done is so scary actually like what do you mean you guys get to see the little adventures I force that guy into. What!!!!

[izzy-b-hands]

Attempting to organise the our flag characters into levels for that complete cast challenge thing bc surely attempting this challenge on hard mode with a huge cast will help my writer's block/s

and checking imdb for all of it and just....there's a guy on here for a character named Dax, and it went uncredited and i'm just sat here like. Whomst in the fuck was Dax and where was he. How in the fuck am I gonna write for this guy and the huge list of other extras when I can't even place the fucking scene some of them were in. Like, some like Abshir I remember of course but others im just. fuckin' patrick looking under his rock like 'whomst the fuck are y'all????' I know I probably saw y'all but had no idea this is who you were meant to be playing and-

I make good decisions lmao

[ribcagewolf]

worst way to love someone is quietly/////////////

[pear1ridge-a]

I just think. I think more violence. More horror.

[allofuswantgwinam]

sometimes i don’t wanna get on tumblr bc i have so many requests and i feel bad bc im not writing anything 🤧🤧 i just get on here and be annoying by vomiting my thoughts and feelings then leave 🤣

[shoyudon]

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 .ᐟ

them forgetting a date night.

starring. gojo, sukuna, toji x fem! reader

heads up. cursing, no fluff, sukuna can use a phone (bcs u taught him lol /j), sukuna calling u "woman"

note. haiii, how are you guys doing? make sure to take care of yourself!! i'm feeling a bit angsty today, so i'm gonna write a bit of angst. i miss gojo, like so much u guys :( i might make a part two for this btw hehe

──────〃★ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

the one thing you hated more than people being late was people who don't keep their promises — your boyfriend wasn't an exception to it. gojo's a busy man, you get it. for months you haven't been able to see him because he was so caught up in the jujutsu world; he saves people dan and night from lingering curses that it broke you a bit.

the jujutsu world treats him like a weapon; and you never liked it. despite your constant battering on him, trying to get him to quit and just settled in for a quiet life, he tells you that he can't. that people needed him, and you felt selfish.

but isn't it fine to be selfish sometimes?

clutching onto your phone, you'd tried dialing gojo's number at least six times before he answers. his voice groggy and slow, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep, "huh . . . hello?"

you wanted to yell at him, especially because he was the one who has been reminding you about this particular date night — and he was the one to forget about it, "good sleep?" you ended up asking him, voice hard.

"y/n . . . why did you—"

"why did i call? oh, i don't know. maybe because my boyfriend stood me up for an hour and a half. i look like an idiot sitting here, satoru," you mutter out in embarrassment, avoiding the lingering gazes from both waiters and waitresses around you.

for the past hour, you've lost count of how many times you'd ask them to refill your glass of tea — embarrassing. then telling them you were waiting for someone when they tried to ask you if you were going to order anything since there were people waiting for a table, just for the said person not showing up.

"what time is— oh, fuck. baby, i'm so sorry, i fell asleep when i was work—"

before he could finish his words, you finished it for him, "working. i get it, you're always working. clearly, you don't have time for anything else, right?" you ask him, signaling the waiter nearby for the bill.

"baby, i know. i'm so sorry, i'm on my way, okay? please," he whispers. you could hear a few shuffling on the background; along with a few curses he muttered under his breath as he stumble over his feet, mind hazy from all the sudden movements he was doing despite just waking up.

"no need. i'm leaving the place," you mutter, walking out of the restaurant — heels clacking on the pavement, "and 'm leaving you, because clearly you're not ready for a relationship, so bye."

gojo yells out, "what? no, baby. i swear — i'll make it up to you, please. don't leave me . . ." he rambled on the same words over and over again, "where are you? i'm picking you up. please, can we talk about this? i'm sorry, i know i should've—"

"bye, satoru," and with that you ended the call.

──────〃★ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

you fiddled the hem of your dress as you sat inside the almost closed restaurant, the last speck of hope you had on your boyfriend —sukuna— dissipating into hopelessness. standing up you walked over to the cashier, taking out your card to pay for the one glass of shrimp cocktail and one glass of white wine.

the cashier shot you a sympathetic look, and you didn't dare to look her into her eyes. face hard from embarrassment and shame, "thank you for coming, come again next time, ma'am . . ." she bids you goodbye as she returns your card.

walking out of the restaurant that now had the 'closed' sign flipped made your stomach churn in mixed feelings: anger, embarrassment, shame, sadness, everything all at once.

sinking your nails onto the palm of your hand, you muttered out strings of curses. you knew being in a relationship with someone who had no understanding to the concept of love was a hard thing — but honestly, you thought you got a hang of it. all this time you had been nothing but patient with sukuna, but maybe even that wasn't enough for him.

three hours. you sat alone inside the restaurant you booked for the both of you for three hours — each hour depleting your hope even more. and sukuna just managed to fuck it up even after he said he'd try. well, you should've underlined the keyword there: he said he'd try not that he'd come.

maybe you saw it coming yet it still disappointed you anyways.

your phone rang. even before you see who it was — you knew it's none other than sukuna. your heart screamed at you to answer his phone call, but your mind told you to leave it ringing because you were in no mood to talk to him. yet, at the end — you still pressed the answer button.

"what?"

"where are you?" his rough voice echoed through the line as you walked down the nearly empty street, holding onto your purse, "place's closed."

scoffing, you answered, "'f course it's closed, it's almost ten. i've been waiting for three hours, ryo. three hours."

you could hear him inhale sharply, "i was caught up with something, woman. where are you now?" he questioned. hearing a few car honking behind on the background, "where are you? answer me."

"doesn't matter, i left. and i'm leaving you, i was wrong thinking maybe i could've changed you — turns out, i couldn't. good luck to you," you mutter out sternly.

sukuna raised a brow, "y're kidding."

you weren't, and all he could hear next was the loud dial tune of the other line hanging up — now did he realize that this was all serious and you were actually leaving him for good.

──────〃★ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

you sighed, dialing toji for the first time of the night when he said that he was going to pick you up for a date, the phone rung for a while before going into voicemail. grumbling under your breath, you tried dialing him again for the second time, which ended up the same way.

all these time spent on makeup and picking out the best outfit — all for nothing as your boyfriend, toji failed to show up on time. angry, you tried calling him again for the third time, only for it to end up in voicemail yet again. this time you decided to leave a message for him.

"hey, you forgot. didn't you? hope you're happy with yourself, cause 'm not."

dating toji wasn't the easiest — but you love him, no matter what he was like. and it was stupid of you to do so, all this time you've defended his name against your friends' malice towards him, saying how he wasn't treating you well enough and that you deserved so much better.

despite all that, you love him. disregarding their words, retorting back to how toji treats you well, which he does — except for the times he tended to forget about everything, even you. maybe it was time to open your eyes and actually break up; because you did deserve better than this.

it would be a shame to let all this makeup go to waste, and so you hailed a cab and decided to go out for a treat. and made the best out of everything, that is until toji decided it would be the most convenient time to call you back amidst your little "me time".

wiping your hand on the napkin, you answered him, "huh, you're alive," you muttered out, huffing.

he sighs, "i forgot, sorry." you couldn't see him, but toji actually looked remorseful, already on his way out of his apartment to yours, "i'm on my way."

you chuckled, "doesn't matter. i left my house," you informed, taking a bite out of the crab meat, "so don't bother coming — and i don't think i don't deserve this kind of treatment from anyone, even you, toji. i'm breaking up with you because clearly you don't take this relationship as seriously as i am."

toji furrowed his brows, "i forgot, i fucked up, i can make it up. where are you right now?" he asks, his voice still as calm as cucumber. but the look on his face contradicted the tone of his voice.

"bye, toji. good luck."

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[cinderellakinnie]

the best part about cleaning your room is remembering weird shit abt being a teenager

the second best part is the presumed reduced chance of you developing mold poisoning

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi!! I love your work, if your ok with it can you do Sub! Rafe?? He basically just lets the reader top him but he starts getting all subby on her and cries bc of how good it feels.

masterlist ko-fi ao3

requests are open

word count: 2.1k.

warnings: smut, sub Rafe, p in v, blow job, unprotected sex, tying up, multiple orgasms, creampie

a/n: let's fucking gooo. I have been WAITING for someone to ask me to write this because I love, love, love subby Rafe. so thank you for the request and hope you'll like this one😘

“Just let me try it one time, please.” You looked up at your boyfriend and gave him the best puppy eyes, knowing that no matter how much he refused, he could never tell you no. “You’ll like it, and if you don't, you can just say a word and I’ll stop.” 

“I won’t like it.” Rafe grumbled, rubbing his forehead in frustration. You were asking him to let you be on top, to control everything, and especially him, for the first time. He was scared to let someone do that to him, but at the same time, the smallest part of him craved it crazily. “But we can try.”

You squeaked in happiness, then reached up to hold the back of Rafe’s neck to bring him into the heated kiss. The atmosphere in the room quickly shifted when you started moaning into each other's mouths, with hands gripping whatever body part they could find. 

You slowly bucked Rafe closer to the bed, then pushed him back on the plush blanket. He grumbled again, but still obediently moved up and was laid back on the pillow, clearly waiting for you. 

With a teasing smile on your face, you took his leather belt off the floor and straddled him. “Gimme your hands.” You lowered your body, giving Rafe a quick peck on the lips, and started fixating his hands to the metal headboard. 

The position that you were in gave Rafe an amazing look at your tits, which were spilling out of your bra behind your silk robe. He licked his lips, at that moment not even caring about anything else; his eyes were too focused on your body right in front of his face. 

You pulled back, making sure that his hands were secure and he couldn’t free himself without your notice, then took a second to admire your boyfriend. Rafe was now all yours, laying under you without a shirt on and only in your favorite gray sweatpants. Your eyes trailed down his body, gawking at his shoulders, biceps, chest and abs. Just looking at it made you go into a spiral. 

“Now… I’m going to do everything that you always do with me, and if you’re being good, you’ll get a reward.” You tilted your head to the side playfully, your nails scratching his toned skin from his neck down to the belly button, feeling the way muscles twitched under your fingers. 

Rafe wasn’t fully listening to you, to be honest. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, the image of you sitting on top of him, your robe high on your thighs and almost exposing your boobs, was making him painfully hard. 

“Take it off. I need to see you.” He demanded as usual, already feeling agitated with the way he couldn’t take control of everything like he used to. 

“You’re not giving orders right now. Ask nicely and I’ll think about it.” Rafe's hands moved unconsciously as he tried to touch you, but the belt stopped him. You smirked, leaning lower until your lips were right above his chest. You kissed his heated skin while looking him in the eyes, moving lower and lower until you reached the hem of his sweatpants. 

“Baby, please.” He breathed out desperately. 

Not giving in, you trailed your nail right above his pants, making his hips twitch upwards in search of more contact. 

“You said you wouldn't like it, hm?” You arched an eyebrow, pointing to the very obvious bulge. Rafe huffed and his face was slightly flashed. He was too stubborn to admit it, but seeing the actual reaction of his body was everything you needed to know. “Ask me politely, Rafe.” 

“Touch me.” He breathed out, closing his eyes, and once again tested the belt’s hold on his hands. “Please. I need it.” 

“Mhm, so you can be nice?” Sliding your fingers under the waistband, you finally pulled his pants and boxers down his legs. His cock, painfully hard and with a leaking tip, bounced against his lower abdomen and you couldn’t help but wrap your hand around it. 

Rafe moaned at your touch, throwing his head back against the pillow and then biting on the flesh of his stretched-out bicep. The next thing he felt was your soft tongue licking him from the bottom up, focusing and swirling around his swollen head. 

“Fuck! Shit—don't tease me like this, baby.” With parted lips and hooded eyes, he looked down at you, and the image alone of you standing on your hands and knees with his cock in your mouth could send him into space. Maintaining eye contact, you used your tongue exactly like you knew he liked until Rafe couldn’t hold back anymore and you heard that pretty whining noise. “I’m close—“

As soon as you heard these words, you pulled away, leaving him on the edge and desperate for more. “Oh, I’m sorry, but you’re not getting it that easily.” You finally untangled the silk belt of your robe, letting it freely slide down your arms. Rafe drooled at the sight in front of him, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. 

Never in his life had he wanted something so desperately, like he wanted to touch you right now. It was the sweetest torture to see your perfect body right in front of his hungry eyes but not being able to feel it. 

“I need to touch you. Please, let me do it.” He mumbled, his pupils dilated and his eyes were much darker than before. Rafe pulled his hands again, making metal cling against metal, but you just shook your head. 

“You can only watch; no touching, baby.” You observed the way his eyes got shut tightly, head pushed against the pillow and he huffed, mumbling something incoherent. You’ve never seen Rafe act like this, being so open and emotional, so vulnerable infront of you. The way he needed you made you squeeze your thighs on either side of his body as another wave of arousal washed over you. “I’ll make you feel good.” 

Finally unclipping your bra, you maneuvered to pull your panties down your legs, then returned back on top of Rafe. His cock was placed right next to your pussy, just barely touching your sensitive folds. 

Your hand wrapped around him again, pumping his cock a few times, before slightly moving up and sliding the mushroom head against your pussy lips. 

“Oh fuck—“ Rafe moaned, looking down there with hooded eyes. He was leaking with precum and your movements only made it mix with your wetness and glister on his length. Your mouth slightly opened, moaning too, when his cock finally got caught in your entrance and with one smooth motion, he slipped inside. 

It was euphoric. 

“Oh my god, Rafe! You feel so good inside.” You pressed your hands on Rafe’s abs, testing your ability to move on him without any help. He filled you perfectly, stretching you to the brim and hitting all the right places, making you throw your head back in delight. You moved up, leaving only the tip, and then pushed down with a loud slap of the skin. 

“No-no-no, holy shiiit.” It happened before you could register it, but with a few circular motions of your hips, Rafe’s cock twitched inside of you and you felt a familiar, warm feeling inside of you. With your mouth open in shock, you looked down, seeing the evidence of Rafe’s orgasm on your thighs as his cum started sliding down around his cock. Then you looked back at him seeing even more flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop myself—“ 

During the whole time that you were dating, Rafe had never finished before you, always dragging a few orgasms out of you, not to mention that it had never happened that fast. Always so determined to make you feel good, he could hold back for hours, just enjoying teasing you. But thinking that you could pent him up to the point when he couldn’t control his body, made you want to do to him the dirtiest things. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” You soothed him, leaning forward to reach his face and distracting him with a kiss. Your pussy spasmed around his softened cock, making you both moan in each other's mouths. “I need you to give me another one, baby.” You straightened back, teasingly moving your ass in a circle and observing Rafe’s reaction. 

He whined—he literally whined at the overstimulation, trying to move his cock away while at the same time craving more. The headboard squeaked under his strong pulls, barely able to restrain Rafe’s desires. He wanted you. He wanted you so fucking badly. To just put his hands on your body, roll you on your back and fuck the living shit out of you. He wanted to make that aching feeling in the pit of his stomach go away, because even though he just came, he needed more and it was killing him. 

“Fuck yourself on me. Use me.” 

“Mmm, you’re so sweet when you’re begging me, Rafey.” You teased, now feeling his fully erect cock giving you so much-needed fullness again. With your hands on his chest, you started bouncing up and down, swirling your hips to drag more moans and groans out of Rafe. “You’re feeling me up exactly the way I need it. Always so good for me, baby. Such a good boy.”

“Y-yeah, I’m good for you, and I need to feel you cumming around me.” You nodded eagerly, quickening your pace. His brows kneaded in concentration and eyes got laser-focused on the place where you two were connected. Seeing his cum, mixed with your wetness, dripping down his shaft and smirging all over yours and his things was more than Rafe could handle. “‘s too much—“ 

“I’m gonna cum. Cum with me, baby. I need to feel how you fill me up again. Can you be good and do that for me?” Your hand reached to Rafe’s face, gripping his jaw until you felt him nod back to you. His eyes suddenly became more reddish, showing off your favorite blues in contrast with tears on his waterline. His lips parted again as he seemingly got closer to his second orgasm. 

You clenched around his cock, slightly moving forward to align your clit with his pelvis to create perfect friction. Your bounces got sloppier and less accurate as the blood-rushing noise in your ears became more and more noticeable. 

You both came almost at the same time, moaning each other’s names in bliss. He shot rope after rope of hot semen up your quivering pussy, encouraging you to keep moving and squeezing him. Your cunt was milking every last drop, as you felt extremely greedy to get everything that you could. 

Looking up, you saw Rafe with tightly shut eyes and tears rolling down his cheeks. He was panting, trying to catch a breath and clenching his fists against the restraints. You fell forward on his sweaty chest, reaching up to unbuckle the belt. 

The second Rafe’s hands were free, he put them on your body, touching, gropping and claiming you again, despite the pain of being in an uncomfortable position for too long. He finally sprawled them on your back, not letting you move even for an inch. 

After spending at least ten minutes in that exact position, with his balls deep in you, and in complete silence, you both couldn’t believe what just happened. When the fog finally cleared out of his brain, Rafe slightly pushed you to lay face-to-face on your sides. 

“What the fuck have you done to me, baby?” He whispered against your skin. “You made me cum like a fucking teenager who had his first sex.”

“I just showed you that you don’t have to always be in charge of everything. I can take care of you too.” You pushed Rafe’s sweaty bangs away, throwing your leg over his hip so it would be more comfortable for him to stay in the warmth of your body. He trembled in your hands, hiding his face in your hair and breathing in your scent.

You knew that he felt vulnerable and exposed at that moment, so you didn’t say anything further, just giving Rafe some comfort with your touch and presence.