#both love and hate it and i want to talk about it but the pain and the empathy is too strong here they made Scratch incredibly relatable

[nochedie]

intertwined, sewn together

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 1k ish

summary: just some late night talking

a/n: hehe… um 😳 i actually haven’t written anything for 7 YEARS! and i haven’t ever written for spn before! so please be gentle with me 🙏 i am working on a soulless sam fic but it’s becoming pretty long soo i decided to just do a little fluffy drabble in the meantime! i have a migraine so im sorry if it makes little to no sense :) i read through a couple times and i cant tell if its bad or if i just hate my own writing (definitely the last one but it might be both 😌☝🏼) anyways i love sam and i needed some fluff! much love and please enjoy 🫶🏼

“do you ever think about… the future? for us?” you and sam were laying next to each other in the motel room double bed, alone in the room. dean was out at the nearest bar, and told you both not to wait up. you always cherished the alone time with sam.

he turned to face you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “all the time.”

“and what do you think about?” you took in each and every inch of his face, the sculpt of his jaw, his eyes which held a look of admiration as they looked into yours.

“i think about… one day being able to just… live. you know? me and you. forever.” his voice held some sadness. and you knew exactly why. you could think about this all you wanted, but the life you led… it could never be normal. sam had tried before, he had tried to be normal, tried to live a normal life. but everything fell apart. you knew he still felt that pain. he wanted so badly to be normal. but he was a winchester.

“maybe we can’t live some suburban life. but we don’t need that to live, sam… sure, our job is dangerous but… well we’re still here, aren’t we? we’ve made it this long.”

“y/n…” you reached out to touch his cheek, and his eyes closed at the feeling, completely relaxing into your touch. “i just… every single day i wake up and worry that something is going to happen to you.”

“hmm… it almost sounds like you don’t think i can fend for myself. you know i can beat a vampire with my bare hands!” you definitely could not.

sam’s laughter filled the room almost immediately, “oh, suddenly you have super strength?”

“you don’t know what i have.” you feigned offence, pulling out of his grasp and turning your body away from him.

“um… what do you think you’re doing?” he spoke between chuckles, slipping his arms around your torso, pulling you flush against him. “let me see your pretty face, love.”

“only if you admit that i have fists of steel and i could absolutely kill a vampire with no weapon.” sam had killed gordon with nothing more than a bit of wire, so this wasn’t the most unrealistic claim.

“right. you’re right, honey. vampires watch out! y/n’s coming! with… maybe chicken wire?”

“you’re mean.”

he practically erupted into laughter, more of an endearing laughter than anything else. he gave you a tight squeeze from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“turn around please, honey. i promise i’ll stop.”

you heeded his request, turning in his embrace so that your faces were but centimetres apart.

“there you are.” he took a deep breath in as he studied every inch of your face, taking in each small detail, each feature which made up the face he loved so much.

you slid one arm around his torso and rest the other on his chest, shuffling as close as you could and letting your eyes close.

“you getting tired?” sam reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving only a sliver of light in the room from the outside street lights.

“just a little. but let’s keep talking, okay?”

“alright, love. what do you want to talk about?” he shifted onto his back and put his arm around you, leading your head to rest against his shoulder, while one arm kept resting on his chest.

“chicken wire.” you stifled a laugh.

sam looked up at the ceiling, a wide smile plastered on his lips. these were his favorite moments with you, and he adored how you could immediately switch his mood.

this hunt in particular had been tough, but it was over now, and this was your last night in the motel before heading to sioux falls in the morning to meet with bobby. the hunt forced sam into some uncomfortable thoughts. you had come far too close to danger, and it sent him into a spiral worrying about you. he hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he lost you, but it felt like he had been hit head on by the thought. he really couldn’t live without you, he knew that for a fact. tonight, he was really feeling it. all he wanted to do was hold you close and never let go. but this conversation with you, your optimism and your smile, just you, allowed sam to feel a genuine content.

“i love you.” he whispered, planting a kiss on top of your head.

you hadn’t realised how tired you were, and you had already drifted to sleep. after a few minutes, sam did the same.

****

you opened your eyes to see sam looking back at you, already awake. “good morning, love.”

“good morning.” you stretched your limbs, sitting up in the bed before looking around the room. “dean didn’t come back last night?”

“he did, he went out to pack up the car. you slept in pretty late.”

“hmm.. well we better get ready and hit the road, then?”

“or… we could cuddle for a bit.” he tugged on your arm, attempting to coax you to lay back.

“sammy.. you just said i slept in pretty late.”

“and did i say that was a bad thing?” cue two more arm tugs.

just as you were about to lay back down and into sam’s arms, you heard a few knocks, followed by dean’s voice through the door. “cars packed up, you kids have got fifteen minutes or i’m leaving you behind!”

“i guess no cuddling today.” sam has to suppress a whine as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

“do you think we have time for a shower?”

“oh, definitely.” you jump out of bed and grab sam’s outstretched hand, following him into the bathroom.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter eight

bj lips love potions ft princess paparazzi

❝Undress me, caress me

I just want you to fuck me

My love can't take it no more

Gotta cast it on you❞

previous chapter next chapter

Knowing that Kenma left you and didn't even send so much as a text message made you feel a bit queasy in your stomach. You both spent the entire night together, even with a few good days leading up to it, and yet he still went ghost.

To you, it made no sense whatsoever. From the beginning, you both started off on the wrong foot, and now, when you finally felt that everything was getting better, he goes off the grid.

There was a permanent frown on your face and a hurtful feeling in your chest when you came back to the shared apartment that day.

After checking on a few of your neighbors in the apartment complex and verifying that staying in them was safe now, you finally went in.

That stupid gas leak caused a really good night between you and Kenma, and you couldn't help but to let yourself smile as you reminisced about the few hours before.

However, inside the apartment was strange because there was no sound at all. With Kuroo gone with his friends and Kenma nowhere to be found, it felt eerie.

Turning on the living room TV for background noise, a couple lamps as well, and starting on baking a recipe that Kenma had shared with you, you finally felt better about being in here by yourself.

You never really enjoyed the silence, ever; it always seemed deafening and always made you feel a bit anxious and panicky.

When the kitchen timer declared the homemade sweet bread from Kenma's recipe was done, you tried it and wanted to meet the woman herself because it was beyond delicious.

You sighed, stopping your chewing. Being alone was fine, but you hated being alone with no one there to talk to or annoy either. You would've thought that being an only child would have prepared you to not feel this way and learn how to be by yourself, but it never worked.

Deciding to rot on the couch for a little, you grabbed your blankets and pillows with a good show put on, and little did you know, you were slowly drifting off to sleep.

You awoke after a few hours passed by; the TV was long off, having shut down by itself after so much time of inactivity. You felt hot—unbearably hot; the blankets you were cuddled up with earlier had damn near suffocated you.

The cool wetness of your clothes stuck to your legs and lower back.

Oh, how you hated waking up like this after a nap; it was frustrating and left you feeling woozy.

Getting up on wobbly legs, you made it to the kitchen to gulp down a large glass of water, and that's when you noticed the time. 6:00pm shined brightly on the oven timer; sleeping for the whole day wasn't something you expected for today, but it happened.

You eventually found your phone, ignoring every message that wasn't from Kenma or your parents. You groaned, throwing yourself back onto the couch, pushing the blankets down to the other side with your feet.

A dull sleep headache causing you pain, adding onto the fact that Kenma hadn't even sent you one measly text, had made it worse altogether.

Quite frankly, you missed him; you missed him a lot. You swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell too much on those particular feelings because you could tell with the way that your heart started to dully give off throbbing pains.

Deciding to distract yourself by cleaning was always a good choice to help you; it's always helped your mind because you were physically doing tasks.

After cleaning the living room again because of your mess, the kitchen, laundry, and bathroom were all done. However, you got curious yet again about Kenma's room and took your gloves off to push his bedroom door open.

It looks just like how it was last, but with him not home, you could actually look through his room and not feel his beady eyes on you watching your every move.

You got excited; the thrill of snooping through the bedroom of a guy you liked was a bit stirring. You've liked his room from the first time you went in, of course, and even the time before that.

You tip-toed in, having a feeling you might get caught if you don't hear the front door open. You look around, your heart basically in your throat. You loved the feeling of the thrill this gave you.

You first went to Kenma's bedside table; on the top there was a stray hairband, a hairbrush, and tissues, as well as a half-full glass of water. You raised a brow; that was seemingly normal enough; you cheekily smiled mischievously and opened the drawer.

You gasped when you saw a pack of condoms in his bedside drawer.

You hadn't expected Kenma to have those because you figured he didn't have a girlfriend. Your face heated up when you touched the box to move it and look at the other stuff in there. You saw some vitamins, daily supplements, and a few personal items of paper that you weren't going to touch.

Your eyes drifted back to his pack of condoms. Does he have one-night stands or something? The thoughts were endless, but you had to remind yourself that he wasn't your boyfriend, so whatever he did with those condoms was his choice.

With a sharp inhale, you exited his room, making sure you left everything just the way it was before you came in here.

Heading to your room, you decided to read for a little to pass the time. He would have to eventually come home, right? You would wait for him, wanting to confess your feelings; the more you waited, the more the anxiousness bubbled in your stomach.

Thinking about Kenma was easier than trying to anticipate when he would be home.

However, the more you thought about Kenma, the way his warm, larger frame felt against yours last night, and his eyes... oh, how his eyes became glaringly sharp when he’s pissed.

All of that causes the predicament you’re in now, with your hands between your legs, eyes tightened shut, and covers pushed to the end of the bed.

Your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans to no one’s ears in particular; you were home alone after all.

Your heat was throbbing, desperate for more than just the showerhead, more than the pleasure that you can get from your short fingers.

Being cursed with stubby fingers had caused a predicament that you could never reach that good spot inside of yourself, and so you resulted in finishing by playing with your clit.

You never thought that you’d actually be masturbating to the thought of Kenma, then again, you remembered that he did the same way before you both had developed this tension between you. You’d give anything to grind against him, to tease him for the way he’s treated you before.

You were losing it, back arching off your bed; your fingers worked diligently to help you aid in reaching for that orgasm you needed badly.

Kenma, coincidentally, was on his way home at 8:00 p.m. on the dot. After thinking about whether he would ignore this heightened feeling inside of him till he either A) moved out or B) graduated, he knew that he couldn't do that.

Safe to say that Kenma fell for you, and of course he already knew that deep inside but would never, ever admit it for something so dumb and petty that it physically made him cringe at himself.

Hoping to help aid in his apology, he bought you an iced seasonal coffee and a little sweet treat to help you not be in any negative mood towards him.

It was like he felt guilty all over again, thinking back to when he scared the daylights out of you and caused you a horrible nightmare. Only this time, he basically stood you up for an entire day because he wasn't certain about the feelings his heart was telling him, only due to the fact that they clashed with his mind.

Taking a deep breath and preparing for the night, Kenma unlocked the apartment door with his key. However, he was not expecting to hear loud, high-pitched moaning noises coming from your bedroom upstairs.

Kenma froze, the worst-case scenario coming to mind, which was that you were having an intimate moment with another person because you decided that he was waiting too long.

However, the more he waited to hear something to give off any details, there were no beds creaking or slamming against the wall, and there were no other moans/groans besides yours.

He was about to step out and send you a text that he was on his way because maybe that would dull the pink in his face, or maybe it would give him enough time to have his dick go down if he stood outside in the cold.

Before he could even open his phone, he heard a soft meowl of his name from upstairs, from your bedroom upstairs.

The mixture of chills and need rushed down his spine as he set everything down on the living room coffee table. Slowly making his way upstairs, you were unbelievable loud, yet he couldn't stop the feeling of wanting to hear more, wanting to see, wanting to feel.

Kenma tried to be as quiet as possible, the ache in his lower half becoming more of a nuisance by the second. His eyes almost bulged out of his head when he realized your door was halfway opened; no wonder he heard you so clearly.

Every light was off upstairs, with the exception of your pink lamp and TV that was playing a random show. It cast a beautiful glow on your skin as Kenma peeked around the corner of your doorframe; he hoped to God that you couldn't see the way he was being a pervert for you.

His eyes glowed with a need to please you; he watched carefully as your fingers were vigorously working hard to give you pleasure. His brows furrowed when he realized you weren't touching your hole at all.

That in itself made him curious; of course your fingers were wet; they even looked sticky, and Kenma wondered what your slick tasted like.

Kenma couldn't help but stare at you; he's never seen you naked before, and God, you looked fuckable, not to mention alluring with the way your body hypnotized him.

He stalked the way your body moved with every twirl of your fingers around your clit; your eyes were shut tightly, your other hand underneath your shirt, toying with your nipple.

It was an erotic sight, and Kenma could tell from the shallow thrust of his hips against his hand that he was bound to come soon. It was something so little, but watching someone like you in all your glory, he couldn't help himself.

He watched the slight ray of tears that were in your lash line; he wondered how long you've been at this and how long you've been without it. He knew with the way you started thrashing and your hips started to buck that you were going to come soon.

The moans you let out were so angelic, he wanted to break them so badly. With a few more thrusts and hearing his name on your lips once more, Kenma came inside of his pants.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath and collect himself, as well as getting one last peek of you, you looked so precious and worked yourself so hard because of him, and if he just owned up to his feelings, he could've done that for you.

Silently, going back downstairs because it would make too much noise to go into his room and change out of his pants and underwear for clean ones. Kenma decided to pretend he just got home and didn't just come to the sight of you toying with yourself.

With a few loud movements of his keys and the door shutting rather loud, he figured that was enough since your door was open after all.

Kenma tried to make himself seem normal enough, getting a drink out of the fridge and switching the living TV to something more so he would watch. However, ignoring the spurts of cum that were in his pants was a bit hard, as it felt uncomfortable after so long.

After a few more moments, you came downstairs, calling for him, and his body responded delightfully to your voice.

"Kenma? Are you home?" You called, coming down the steps. When you heard the front door shut, you rushed to get up and close your bedroom door and fix yourself as quick as possible.

"Yeah, I'm home." He paused, getting up from the couch.

"I got you a coffee and a muffin." He said, sounding apologetic, and you could only guess that he was apologizing for the ghosting shenanigans of today.

"Thanks, Ken... Where were you, by the way? I haven't seen or heard from you since I left this morning for breakfast. And then you just leave, shoulder-check me, and don't even say sorry." You asked confused, not liking this wishy-washy he was treating you with.

It hurt and made you confused in your own feelings, especially after masturbating to him.

Kenma's eyes glazed over as he was thinking of what to tell you.

“I'm...sorry, Y/n. I didn't know that I bumped into you, and for leaving without saying anything, as well as worrying you." Kenma sighed, not really sure what to say without saying that he likes you a lot.

You felt skeptical about his words, but there would probably be more later; after all, it was just the two of you here.

"It's all fine. I know you probably have things going on, and so I won't pester about it. I'm glad you're back though, I  misunderstood. Your eyes widened when you realized what you were about to tell Kenma—you've never told him that you've missed him before.

Luckily, your stomach grumbled, and that's when you realized that you haven't eaten since the hotel's breakfast this morning.

Kenma cracked a smile, which made your eyes light up at the sight. "Let's order in, okay? How does Mexican sound?" He asked with a smile, making your heart skip a beat.

You nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good." You were grateful for Kenma, not realizing that he always thinks about you. Whether you have eaten or need to eat, your needs when you get scared, and even letting you use him as a safe place when you're feeling that way.

As he ordered for the both of you, you started to feel guilty because he was being so sweet, and you were just upstairs masturbating to him. God, you really were the worst, you thought.

"Can you answer the door? I'm going to go change really quick." Kenma asked of you, a slightly disgusted facial expression showing. You furrowed your brows but nodded anyways. It was no hassle for you.

When the food got to the apartment, you both decided on a movie that wasn't scary nor a child's movie per his request and to which you rolled your eyes.

Settling on a romantic comedy, it was interesting as you both ate the food he ordered. Sitting side by side on the couch with the food on the coffee table, you both were close, and even then, you wanted to be closer to him.

Watching a romantic movie with Kenma left your mind open to roam about confessing to him; you wanted to desperately but was afraid of how it could backfire. Then you got into your head about whether Kenma really even liked you.

You didn't even realize it, but the credits started to roll, declaring the end of the movie, and you finally got the courage.

"Um, I like you!" You blurted out, turning towards Kenma, cheeks-tinged pink, and food left untouched because you were so distracted by your mind.

Kenma took a sharp intake of air and eyed your face. "Are you sure that's not lust?" He raised a brow, and you frowned at him, hearing your confession go unnoticed and deemed as lust.

"No, I like you, Kenma, like romantically and maybe sexually too, but I like you, alright?" You felt frazzled, trying to clarify that you had a bit more than a crush on him and then some.

Kenma's eyes widened like he didn't expect you to flat out tell him that either, "But I was mean to you when we first met, Y/n. Don't tell me you're into that." He trailed off, veering away from you for the effect.

You gasped, the blush coming back from embarrassment. "Kenma, no! My God, if anything, you're the one who's into that. I mean, if you requite my feelings, that is." You asked shyly, not wanting to assume but also wanting to desperately know.

"I do'requite' them; fancy word you got there." He chuckled at you; it made you smile. Knowing that Kenma actually likes you back was exhilarating for everything you both have been through together.

"Wait, so why did you hate me when we first met? I was so nice to you." You questioned, feeling more comfortable with asking him these questions, leaning in more.

He seemed to keep his calm though when you started questioning the reason behind his actions, "Because you're cute, sweet, and girly. I didn't realize I liked that, and you bustlingly about everywhere and adding your touches in the apartment made it feel more like yours too and not just Kuroo and I's. It was hard, I guess." He thought about it more, not realizing that you almost short circuited when he called you cute.

"That... makes more sense now. I was trying to be so nice, and then you were just mean to me. Then I got fed up and started being rude as hell; I hated that." You laughed trailing off, thinking back to when you had that mutual feud going on between you both.

"Yeah, I actually wished I hadn't been like that towards you. I really just wanted to get closer to you but didn't know how and decided to unintentionally belittle you." He grimaced at his own actions, hating the way he treated you.

However, it was refreshing to see this side of Kenma; you loved how open he could be when he wanted to be.

The night trailed on with the both of you confessing the small and big moments throughout the weeks from when you moved in. You found out about how your big nightmare was single-handedly caused by Kenma, except the rainstorm bit.

You listened intently when you realized he was confessing to causing you hurt; you felt like your heart was bursting at the seams because of him. It felt nice inside to finally be able to talk with Kenma about the mishaps between you both and forgive one another.

Yawning, tears pricked your eyes as you covered your mouth. You tried to find a clock to check the time, but your phone must've fallen into the couch.

"It's practically two in the morning. I didn't mean to keep you up so late; you should go sleep, Y/n." Kenma, yet again, was looking out for you, but you never minded though.

"I think I should; I'll help clean up though. I forgot this is your usual, staying up so late, I mean." You mentioned gathering the empty dinner plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Mostly yeah, but I'm tired tonight because I barely got any sleep last night." He recalled, scratching underneath his ponytail of his head.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that. I'm sorry," You apologized yet again after you found out you were the reason Kenma had zero sleep last night. He really went all out with his confession, but yet you still had a sense that he was maybe guilty about keeping all of that inside.

As you both headed upstairs, you were quicker than him when he turned off the downstairs lights. You were faced with an option. Now, Kenma wasn't thinking, nor knew, about this so-called option, but you made a choice.

"Ken?" You called from your room, gathering your PJs, because you already assumed what he was going to say.

Followed back was a "Hm?" from Kenma himself.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" You asked, more quietly now, as if you were scared of what he would say.

Kenma paused, and for a good second you thought he was hesitating. "If you're sure."

You smiled all giddy and quickly changed into a large night tee and shorts, as usual. After a speedy night routine, you meet Kenma in his bedroom.

This felt much more intimate than it did in the hotel for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that you both agreed to sleep in the same bed, or maybe that you both know a budding relationship might start, or even that you both have seen each other in such a vulnerable, alluring state already.

Climbing into the silk-sheeted bed, you felt like you were in heaven; not only did you feel like you were going to sleep on clouds, but Kenma even had a heating blanket.

"Oh my God, I love your bed." You commented, happily rolling around in the sheets as he was too busy checking his monitors and turning them off.

"Thanks, it's good for my hair since I dyed it back in high school." He half smiled from what you could see with him turned around. It felt more comfortable being around Kenma like this; it was easy and comfortable.

When Kenma climbed into bed as well, that's when all comfort went out of the window. His larger frame climbed over you so he could lay by the wall, his usual spot when sleeping.

Everything was quiet for a few minutes, and you thought that he may have already fallen asleep, so when you turn over to your side facing away from him and lay on your back, you hear him shuffle.

"So... how was your orgasm?" His voice seemed like it was coming from directly by your ear; your face immediately flushed red, but it was barely seeable since it was dark in his room with the exception of your nightlight.

"... What? What do you mean, Ken?" You tried your best not to stammer and make it as even as possible. You were sure that the front door had opened when you were already done, right? You wracked your brain but couldn't remember because the sleep in your eyes was becoming too much.

"You remember the hotel? I figured you didn't connect the dots because you're a little sleepy, but I didn't get a wink of sleep. You made a confession, did you not?" Kenma's voice sounded different—huskier, filled with a need for something.

You froze until you felt his warm hand snake around the bed to find your waist.

"Yeah, I—um, I made a confession at the hotel..." You closed your eyes, not wanting to deal with the shame of Kenma knowing that you spied on him while he was masturbating—to you after all.

"You're so dirty, you know that, right? Such a dirty girl..." He trailed, massaging your love handle, "But you liked it, right? Is that why I came home to you, pleasuring yourself to the thought of me?" You could hear an ever so slight chuckle underneath his breath. Kenma was toying with you. And you liked it.

"I'm sorry, Kenma. I didn't mean to spy; I just heard, and then went to go see—I'm sorry." You pleaded, not sure what for, until he turned you around, facing towards him.

"Shh, no worries, it's okay, Y/n. Can I kiss you?" Kenma asked, his lidded eyes staring in your wide, needy, dilated ones.

You nodded, not sure what to say other than yes; your heartbeat was practically in your throat as you shook your head yes. He came closer; you felt his breath on your lips before he closed the gap and touched your soft lips with his own.

Kenma parted your lips with his tongue, swiping at the entrance, wanting to explore the inside of your mouth. He's waited for this moment since he first fell for you, and savoring this moment wasn't enough; he needed to conquer.

A rough hand came to the back of your head as he pushed you closer to him, his tongue furthering deeper in your mouth. You couldn't help but to moan out into the kiss, using your nose to breathe instead of breaking it for air.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, and the heat in your core began to stir. Kenma got restless and started to grip your clothes roughly; his breathing was uncontrolled and harsh, like he had been waiting for this his entire life.

Kenma abruptly broke the kiss with you; you whined and fisted at his clothes for more.

"Stop whining, Y/n. I need to know if you want this; you do know what is about to happen between us if you want to continue, right?" His yellow, cat-like eyes stared hard into yours; you could tell Kenma was restraining himself after you worked him up so much.

"I want, I do want this... I just haven't done this before, though, with anyone." You admitted, hoping he didn't think you were lame since he had that jumbo pack of condoms in his dresser drawer.

"I haven't done it either; I just know what I want and can tell what helps you feel pleasured and what doesn't." He coolly said, a hand snaking under your shirt; his eyes glinted when he found out you weren't wearing a bra.

"Ah! But those condoms... in your drawer? I had thought that maybe you have already done this before." You trailed, not meeting his eyes because you just confessed to snooping around in his room without him knowing.

"You little peek." He chided and lightly pinched your nipple, "Those are from Kuroo, a gag gift from my birthday, actually." He smirked and started placing small feather-like kisses on your jaw.

He needed to get you worked up if he wanted to ensure that you were prepped right for him.

"God," he groaned into your neck, "I've wanted you so badly." He couldn't help but to leave little marks as well; from now on, you would be his.

"Me too; I've wanted you so, so badly, Ken." You whined, arching your back as he lifted your shirt and sucked on your nipples, effectively causing your thighs to rub against one another, ensuring that his plan was working.

You have never experienced something like this, and it made your body feel burning hot and your core throb. Kenma, on the other hand, was experienced to a certain extent due to the internet, manga, and having friends that are guys.

Either way, the achingly painful throb of your core demanded to be filled with every lick and slight tug of your nipples that Kenma was doing.

"You really like your nipples to be played with, my little dirty girl, don't you?" His groaned out into your ear, whilst his magic hands kept working their way on your tender breasts.

His hand snaked down to your panties, effectively slipping them off of your legs, the build up from his playing with your nipples was getting to you, making you extremely eager for the next stage. 

“Are you ready for this?” His piercing eyes couldn’t break away from yours as his middle finger slipped inside your wet heat. It was…strange to say the least, a low moan spilling from your mouth when you felt the pleasure of him moving his digit in and out of you.

His long finger was such a pleasuring break from your short, stubby ones.

Soon after Kenma watched your expressions precisely, he added another finger, keeping it simple as he could feel the tightness from even just that. Your face winced until he slowly started thrusting his fingers into your cunt, slightly curling them to prepare you for what will come afterwards.

“You’re being so good for me,” Kenma whispered, never taking his eyes off of the way your body started to join in with the rocking of his hand, your hips becoming in sync with how badly you wanted more.

Soon, your back was already arching off of his bed, the sight beckoned his dick, which was already painfully throbbing and awaiting your warm hole to fill. 

"Ken,” your voice came tumbling out roughly, “Oh God, I can't—I can't, plea—ah! Stop." You cried, the feeling of your usual pleasure was building in your core but this time, Kenma could reach that one singular spot which had you seeing stars.

His hands didn’t stop inside of you, and quite frankly you didn’t want them to stop either. With the way his thumb rubbed over your clit so lightly you were on the brink of an orgasm.

All of a sudden the pleasure failed to rush over your body, your hips jerked forwards, needing the movement that was suddenly stopped to start again. 

"No! Please! Why did you stop, please?" You could feel the orgasm dissipating inside of your abdomen, your cunt clenching his fingers inside of you that wouldn’t move. 

"Don't tell me to stop if you actually don't want me to. Now, tell me youre sorry, you brat." Kenma spat at you, you both didn’t have a safe word yet and so, Kenma had no choice but to follow your instructions and body language, he didn’t want a misunderstanding because you got overwhelmed with the toe curling pleasure. 

Heat of embarrassment rushed to your face but you hoped he couldn’t tell, “I’m,” you sighed hating apologizing when you knew you were in the wrong about this, “I’m sorr-” You were cut off once again when Kenma hovered his hot mouth over your clit, his digits continuing their bruising movements from not that long ago.

Soon, the rushing thrill of almost finishing came over you yet again and this time, Kenma let it happen. Your legs went stiff as your back arched, his tongue rolling over your clit and a high-pitched moan releasing from your throat.

Kenma slowly slid his fingers out of your cunt, tasting them when your eyes were closed. He didn’t want you to see how needy he was for you. With deep breaths and a few feathery light face kisses from Kenma, you opened your eyes. 

He was right in your face, staring at you deeply in emotion, “You did so well, I’m so proud. Do you want to stop?” There were no negative feelings in Kenma if you did want to stop, he assumed you were worn out already. 

“Huh? No, of course not. I want,” You paused, realizing how badly you still wanted to be filled, especially by Kenma. “I want more, please.”

Between the time of Kenma kissing you all over your face, he had taken his pants off. You stared at his cock, the angry red tip swollen with a need to be released. You gulped, eyes starting to become lidded with need just by looking at it. 

Kenma reached for his side table after letting you look at it, almost stopping to groan when his dick touched your warmth.

You couldn’t help but to arch your back as his dick twitched, “Can we…do it without the condom?” You flusteredly asked, hiding your face behind your hands, you were slightly grinding on his unprotected dick by now. 

Kenma raises a brow, skeptical about having his first time raw with you, knows he shouldn't, but when you’re being such a little minx, he just couldn’t disobey your request. 

“Are you ready then, Y/n? I’ll be very slow and listen to you.” Kenma promised, eyeing you as you allowed him to slowly enter inside. It’s a very damn good thing that Kenma had some patience, even though it was slowly deteriorating, because your cunt was so fucking wet and siphoned his cock into it. 

With a harsh gulp, he peered down at you, feeling the miniscule beads of sweat on his skin from the activity at hand. Your eyes were tightly shut and Kenma hated how your first time was painful while he wasn't.

Although, he realized that you were tense instead of relaxed and that effectively made the whole action hurt even worse.

“Y/n,” He choked out before taking a deep breath, “Y/n baby, you have to relax. It won’t hurt as much if you relax.” Kenma urged, for your sake and his, he was going to cream himself if you didn’t stop holding his dick hostage in your cunt like this.

After a slight head nod and no result, Kenma carefully leaned down without entering even more and started pressing light kisses to your tense face.

“C’mon, relax baby,” He mumbled, kissing your closed eyes, helping your body become more pliable instead of stiff. 

“M’sorry,” You quietly apologized to him, in which he denied that.

“It’s your first time, you didn’t know, baby.” He reassured you. 

With a few small words of permission to keep letting him sink into your cunt, Kenma fully, but slowly, sheathed himself inside of you.

The snug pleasure was overwhelming to Kenma, but he couldn't help but to prefer your pleasure over his. He decided to keep his eyes from rolling back, watching you as he very gradually rocked into you, watching his cock disappear into your warm, wet cunt.

His dick felt like it was going to burst any second, the ache in his groins was a hard fight to maintain and not flip you over to fulfill his own pleasure. 

That was until you started rocking your hips back to meet him, silently asking for more. Kenma squinted at you and stopped moving until you started whining at him. 

"Use your words,"  Kenma’s rough, mean voice came out. He wanted to hear you say it, you needed to learn to be clear when speaking to him about something. 

You hesitate, "I want more; it doesn't hurt anymore; it feels really good." You sigh in pleasure, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been because of him. 

A snap of Kenma’s hips clashed you both together, and like clockwise, the delicious noises fell out from your mouth, unable to be contained even by your hand. 

Kenma gripped your waist, entering you at a breaking pace, the tightness of his hands on you hurting in such a painfully good way. His cock pierced your insides and you found yourself meeting each and every one of his thrusts with the same eagerness. 

Not being able to keep his hands off of your body because the squish of your walls were pulling him in further, it felt like you didn’t ever want him to leave.

He leaned over you, trying to desperately attach his mouth to yours, the look of both of your eyes were mirrored with pure lust and attractiveness.

In less than no time, the toe curling sensation of a familiar orgasm rushed over you, trying to claim your body. 

“Ken, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," you chanted loudly, rolling your hips faster against his, hoping to grind your clit against him. You fisted at the sheets harder when Kenma put your leg over his shoulder and rubbed your clit. 

Your vision became uncanny as white spots filled it when the crashing wave of the second orgasm of the night rushed over you. Kenma did not slow down or even falter for a second when your body started spasming, your cunt seized as Kenma’s moans finally spilled out as he kept going.

You, on the other hand, had accidentally stopped breathing with the overwhelming waves of pleasure hitting your body as if you were under water. The rush came unyielding as Kenma kept going; he noticed, and yet it made him harder and his dick eager to release.

"Haaah, breathe baby, c'mon breathe for me," Kenma urged, not able to stop his thrusts but trying to soothe your spasmodic state by rubbing your face and throat as gently as he could. 

To his relief, a loud, strangled gasping noise came out of you and Kenma realized that you were crying by now. 

God, seeing you like this in pleasure, your face beating red, and tears rolling down your cheeks was the tipping point. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, oh God, I’m gonna—" Kenma desperately wanted to cum inside and fill you to the brim of his seed but knew that it wasn't smart to do, especially since this was the first time you both had sex.

His dick was tightening, becoming ready to spill his seed inside if he wasn’t ready to pull out. 

"In—side," You choked out, the pleasure making you feel light headed and leaving an airy feeling in your body, almost as if your orgasm never ended. Kenma knew better than to listen to you when you're drunk on sex. 

As his thrusts came to an end, they became sharper and more bruising, and on his last thrust, he pulled out quickly, almost missing, and came on your cunt.

His head was thrown back, groaning, as he rubbed his cock all over your pussy like a dog in heat, the last warm spurts coming out of him on you, which left you with a strange feeling.

Once Kenma was able to collect himself, he leaned down to you looking like you were out of it and not even here all the way. He pressed kisses to your forehead, feeling the dampness on your skin.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" Kenma worriedly asked, with a weak shake of your head, he got up ass naked, and all you heard was the bathroom sink running before he came back. In his hands were a cup of water and a wet cloth. 

"Let me clean you; I didn't mean to finish all over you down there," Kenma apologized, his ears turning pink as his usual self came back down to earth.

"Mmm, it's okay. I'm sorry for almost pressuring you to finish inside," you said sheepishly, realizing how bad it was and how horrible he would’ve felt afterwards if that did happen.

After Kenma cleaned you up, he put his shirt over your body, pulled you close, and turned on your favorite childhood show. You relaxed into his body, letting his hands roam all over you and massage the weak points of your body.

"I really enjoyed it, Kenma, thank you." You bundled your head down into the blankets, comfortable in the way he played your favorite show and the fact that his bed, obviously, smelt like him. 

"You make it sound like you paid me," he snorted from behind you, "But you’re welcome; now sleep, you're tired," and sure enough, you followed his orders.

Kenma went quiet behind you as he was relishing in the way your body fit against his, the smell of your shampoo, and the fact that you are in his clothes, which all eased his mind to a comfortable slumber.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

a/n: hihi everyone! second to last chapter ;) i hope you've all enjoyed this so far <3

tag list: @geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart @ookamiakasuna @22marie16 @jlly1 @aldebrana @kad0o @animechick555

@deftrow allowed me permission to make this/it's their idea from A03!! all i did was create a multi-chapter fic of it :) i made the banner!!

[skvaderarts]

The Line.

Holy shit.

This fucking song has me in a death grip. I've been listening to this song on a loop for 3 days now. The line about the goddamn BLANKET?! Exquisite in the worst possible way. Fuck that blanket. That blanket has given me emotional damage and so has this song.

I accidentally found the song through a random AMV that was recommended to me, and it's RUINED MY LIFE. And then I learned the context and it got 100 TIMES WORSE. Every time I hear it it gets worse because I think even deeper about what it means. I could write a thesis paper on this shit at this point down to the key signature and the bpm. "I can't fight this time now"? Why did you have to come for my throat like this? Song's choking me harder than Viktor choked Jayce during that fight. It's perfect. Do you know how many times I've thought that in my life? I hate it. It's too real. I'm so glad for it.

I want to reach through the screen and hug Viktor so hard that his shiny new Hextech spine shatters.

I want to clamber my short butt up onto a step ladder and grab Jayce by his giant goofy but loveable shoulders and shake him and tell him it's okay. But like, talk to your boy. Just saying. Leave the laser hammer at home. You both need each other. And I need you both to be okay.

These people who don't exist have hurt me so bad because I UNDERSTAND. That pain is REAL. I feel it. This song hits me in such a real, personal way, and so do these characters. I feel like this song sat me down and put me through therapy and I came out with deep personal insight and an urge to feel better about myself.

I've been under that blanket. Spent years under it. Sometimes I still am. This song made me want to stand up, shake it off, and burn it. I just never even thought about it that way. Never even thought about that I was under it. Literally or figuratively. I've been under it so long I didn't even know it was there anymore. This song woke me up. It was just what needed in my life right now. The lyrics cut me like a knife and I can't thank them enough because all the best music does.

And I know I'm not alone. You aren't, either.

Fuck The Line. I love it. Best song I've heard in years.

Thank you Twenty One Pilots.

[deluweil]

I know ya'll are like this is proof of buddie canon,

And as someone who's been here from the beginning, I will believe it when I see it, not before.

There are four ways Eddie little pointless adventure can go,

1. He moves to El Paso, Christopher does not want to see him, his parents put as many obstacles as possible, Buck joins him in a true copying of Station 19 where at the end of the season Vic leaves and Travis meets her at the airport telling her his home is wherever she is and they leave together.

Prompting the spin off of Buck and Eddie together in El Paso. With an angsty backstory in the background and stuff.

2. Eddie and Buck go canon while they're looking for a house for Eddie, Buck asks Eddie not to move, kisses him they have some angsty back and forward in which Eddie goes to see the house up close, misses Buck and decides he doesn't want this, he convinces Christopher to go home with him and comes back to a delighted Buck.

3. Both of them go to see the house, Eddie loves it but it doesn't feel the right kind of happy, they both confess their feelings in El Paso and come back to LA hopefully after Eddie grows a backbone with his emotional support Buck, and tells his parents to go fuck themselves and his son that he can be mad at him all he wants at home in LA, but they can't work this out while they're in two different states so far apart from each other.

Christopher will probably come around either when he hears that, Thank God, no more poor substitutes for mothers will come through their door because he finally gets his Buck and Eddie together.

Or he's still sullen and teenager-y until Eddie’s next nde and then he'll come around, after crying to Buck that he doesn't want his dad to die thinking he hates him.

It will probably be the second option.

4. Eddie moves, Buck misses him like a missing limb, he goes to visit after one FaceTime too many and they end up together, either doing this long distance, or Buck moves to el paso, or they are both along with Christopher comes back to LA.

Some people are mad that I'm holding Christopher accountable for his behavior, and I will probably at some point make a long post about it, but the thing is, that unlike Buck's small family, Christopher had so many people and family to choose from to separate himself from his dad, but he chose the one pair of people that he knows will keep Eddie away at all cost, will let him get away with whatever just so that he stays with them.

And will give Eddie a pause before he will finally decide to get over his guilt over his one mistake of a stalker showing up against his will in his house, and stirring up painful shit for him and his son, and will come get him much later than he would have otherwise.

Because Eddie is sure he doesn't deserve to be redeemed, he actually thought up until his conversation with Father Brian that he didn't even deserve to drink juice, ok?

That's how bad the guilt is. Does Eddie have a lot of self work to do after TM erased all his progress cause he's a vindictive little bitch? Yes.

Is Christopher, which went through so much with his father and even at one point asked Eddie if he is the one making him sad, is the most ooc he's ever been written so far? Yes.

Can he be held accountable for his actions? At the moment of the ghost Shannon reveal, not entirely.

But six months later? Absolutely.

At this point, he's enjoying himself too much to go back to Eddie and his school and his duties, and he doesn't even discuss with Eddie his plans for the future.

Just hints that say, 'No, I barely want to talk to you and send me the autograph to my room on Texas as a reward for giving you half a breadcrumb every time you call'.

I am mad at Christopher for choosing the one pair of people he knew would do as much damage as possible and would take him away and keep him in a heartbeat.

Because, make no mistakes children are not stupid, they learn patterns of behavior, they see and hear everything, Christopher knows how hard it is for Eddie to deal with his parents and he is taking full advantage of it.

I am mad at Eddie for not putting his foot down and that he didn't send his parents packing the moment they showed up at his doorstep.

And I am mad at the Diaz parents for being the narcissistic assholes who want a second chance at raising their son's kid by taking him away from his father and rubbing it in on top of it.

This whole storyline is just one big cluster fuck, and I get that buddie canon is a potentially exciting future, but with Eddie’s storyline in shambles, which as an Eddie girl is the only thing I care about right now, I find it hard to be excited.

Also we've been here before, this is the same game plan as S5 5x10 and S5b which fox and the showrunner chickened out of last time.

So, yes, buddie may happen, but I ain't getting excited before they actually do. This show has given me trust issues, plain and simple.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Something about this interaction between Harry & Janeway - specifically Janeway but it's notable that Harry's the one listening because I think, say, Chakotay or B'Elanna might push back against the idolization of this 'it was different back in those days' way of thinking.

[5-htagonist]

i am genuinely so crazyyyy about lbruuuuu.... like Genuinely Genuinely. its pretty bad guise

[neverendingford]

.

[handfulofmuses]

"You didn't stop playing it safe when you became a ghost, Scratch. You hid yourself away in that attic, shut yourself off from the world, and never let anybody in. You weren't brave. You were scared, of being hurt, rejected... being left behind. But that's not who you are anymore. You've changed! You've made friends. You're brave now, brave enough to share yourself with the world. And even if you forget me, I know you won't forget that. You can't stay here, Scratch. You've gotta go live your life."

"Why you always gotta be right, Moll?"

"It's my curse."

"If I don't remember you, I'm sorry."

"Well, I will always remember you, forever friend."

"Dream team, you and me?"

"For all eternity."

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

COCKWARMING W/ JJK MEN

cw: smut

Gojo Satoru

Such a whiny boy. He's sooo confident that he can have you sit on his cock for hours and he won’t budge and even says that you won’t last. But he’s all talk. Once you sit on his pretty cock he’s fucked out. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a thin layer of sweat covering his body and his hips bucking up into you. Pleading to his pretty girlfriend to let him cum because he can’t take it anymore. He needs you. 

“Please, please baby, f-fuck.” he whines as he keeps a solid grip on your hips sure to leave his hand prints.  

“Wait, toru… not yet baby,” you coo into his ear as you continue to meet his desperate thrusts. 

“Can I cum now? Please baby…” his lips attack your neck, pressing sloppy wet kisses into it causing you to throw your head back from the immense pleasure this man knew how to give you just from mere kisses, let alone the fact he was so deep inside you about to burst.

And he does. He fills you so good. Mouth slightly agape, eyes shut close as you feel him twitch inside you. 

“Fuck, so good” he smirks at you watching his cum drip down your thighs. 

Geto Suguru 

His cock is so deliciously thick but you hate (not really) cockwarming this man because of how much of a tease he is. He’s holding you down as you slowly sink down onto him. 

“C’mon babe… can your poor pussy take all of it?” his hand comes up to wipe the tear forming on the side of your eye. 

“Y-yes, i can” you nod as you finally bottom out on his cock. 

He brings you in for a hot kiss, the shift causing you to arch your back. Good thing he’s holding onto you so tight that he won’t let you escape, ever. Both of you carry on making out, tongues swirling around exploring each other's mouths. His hands slide up to your ass to give it a squeeze as your hands tangle in his long raven locks. Finally ending the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both as you try to breathe. 

“I’m so fucking deep inside you,” Geto’s hand comes to your lower tummy, pointing out the slight bulge there that his cock is making. A grin appearing on his perfect face. 

Wasn’t long after, he was fucking into you. Purple orbs set on watching how you take his cock so well, over and over again. 

Nanami Kento 

Nanami who lets you cockwarm him when he’s had a long day and he’s just about to be done with work. Having his pretty wife sit down on his cock while he finishes some annoying paperwork, but you just can’t help but start moving your hips up and down on him. Desperate to tease you oh-so handsome husband. 

“Don’t be naughty honey,” he utters softly into your ear. His voice like music to your ears. “Gonna give you my cock right now.” He presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Can’t wait no more Ken,” you sigh as you begin peppering tender kisses on his neck. “Need you so bad…”

Nanami knows so well he can’t resist his wife when she is so needy for him. He throws his back at the feeling of your kisses, eyes shut tight trying to enjoy all the attention you were giving him. Honestly overwhelming the man to the point, he instinctively wraps his large arms around your waist and pumps his entire length into your cunt at a rapid pace. Not slowing down until you are filled to the brim with his cum. 

“This what you wanted honey?” He murmurs coming to kiss your cheek. 

Toji Fushiguro

Toji loves cockwarming after he fucks the living soul out of you. Holding you in a mating press as he cums inside you, he wants to make sure it stays inside so he doesn’t pull out. Instead he fucks into you painfully slow after your orgasm, leaving you with no words besides desperate whines only for his ears. Taking pride in leaving you a babbling mess, he watches you with a smirk that only makes his scar that much more attractive and prominent. Green eyes piercing into yours as he takes your hand and presses soft delicate kisses on it because in his words “it helps ease the pain” of his fat cock drilling into you. 

“Fuck… so pretty f’me” He grunts as he thrusts into you deep one more time before coming down to lay on your chest. 

“You aren’t gonna pull out?” you ask him obviously still trying to catch your breath. Your hand comes up to push his strayed hair out of his face. 

“Nah, wanna sleep like this.” he mumbles. 

And just like that, he's out cold. But don’t be surprised if you’re woken up in your sleep by him fucking into you once again because he always gets hard around his pretty baby. 

Choso Kamo

You needed to explain what cockwarming was to Choso and even after you did, he wasn’t so fond of the idea. He loved being inside you so much that he didn’t believe in himself that he wouldn’t be able to just absolutely destroy your cunt once he slipped in. 

And he was right. 

“No baby… I can’t,” he whines as you're still trying to take him inside completely. 

“Cho… you aren’t even fully inside yet,” you reiterate to him, almost scolding him. 

All he can do is shake his head before he turns you over so he's fully onto top of you. A string of curses leaving his lips as he sinks himself all the way into your silky walls. Once Choso is inside you, he’s a lost cause and no one can pull him out until he makes you cum again and again until you’re both satisfied. It was worth a shot you think to yourself before he begins fucking into you at an animalistic pace.

“Never doing that again,” he enunciates with every thrust. 

“You didn’t even try Cho,” you manage to say as he presses into you deeper. 

“I’ll let you sit on my face later… to make up for it,” you feel him smirking into your neck. 

A soft laugh echoes through the room as you nod, accepting his compromise. 

Sukuna Ryomen 

“You want to do what?” He scoffs as he watches you with a displeased look. 

“I want to sit on your cock… for a while” You try not to make contact with the curse. 

After explaining what cockwarming was to Sukuna, he was intrigued. Letting you do most of the work since it was your idea. He watches you attentively as you lube and prep yourself for him. 

“You gonna keep watching me or are you gonna help?” you give him an almost annoyed look. 

“Such a needy brat. Just come sit on it already.” He demands, staring daggers at you. 

You do just as he says and Sukuna derives immense joy from seeing you in such pain taking his monstrous cock. Lazily holding you up with one of his four arms and he watches you take him inch by inch, pain and pleasure mixing divinely. 

“Why are you crying little thing?” He asks in a worrisome tone but the stupid smirk plastered all over his face says otherwise. “I haven’t even fucking moved, yet.” 

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

————

Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

————

————

SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[melancholic-fig]

What I loved about the Substance was that it took impossible body standards imposed on women seriously. It didn't treat me like a kid throwing a temper tantrum about not being sexy. It didn't try to tell me "everyone is beautiful" and "every body is a beach body" in a pitiable voice that makes it all worse. There's no one singing to me about how "I cannot see my own beauty", as if validation from men will ever be enough to cover the black hole in my stomach drilled by years of self-loathing, binging-purging cycles and appetite-suppression pills. It haven't stopped for a second to congratulate itself for platitudes.

The substance threw an ice bucket on my head, grabbed me by the shoulders, dragged me to the mirror and told me "look at what violence you're inflicting on yourself!". It showed me a perfect body, the carrot on the stick, and then it hit it with a sledgehammer in white neon light. Is it worth it? Aren't you mad? Look at how he eats shrimp and doesn't wash his hands - is this the person you want to be liked by? Is this what you deserve for being human, really?

I've seen this movie on Friday and it's been stuck in my head ever since. I haven't looked in the mirror the same again. Somehow this made me kinder to myself.

I've seen reviewers say that this movie counts as "male gaze" and "violence against women" but I think they don't see the forest from the trees here.

First the male gaze: it felt like a deconstruction, in the best way. Sue's butt was the least erotic thing ever put to screen. The soft porn dance studio was shot in a lifeless manner, I felt like my mom was reading the browse history. Personally, I'd never want to have Sue's job. Even the sexist dudes that watch the movie seem to "get it", that their overly sexual media diet looks embarassing under the microscope. The medium is the message, and the sound and visual cues are all there to make sex appeal look very unappealing and immature. There's nothing sexy in "Pump it up", it's catchy and fun and has sexual undertones, but not a hint of sensuality.

Then the violence against women: there is only one scene where a man attacks a woman, and I'll not spoil it, but i'll say it's so bizzare it feels too cartoony to count. The rest of the violence is all self-inflicted. Every step of the way. Women don't just suffer abuse under patriarchy from men, they self-inflict and reenforce the structures of their own suffering onto others. Elizabeth is a fitness coach actively making bank off of other women's fears, and in the process of telling everyone over x kg to skip lunch she's grown her own self-loathing too. It wasn't really the horny men watching the fitness show, isn't it? Sue is even worse, she goes on talk shows to tell women her looks come from being kind, a silly statement considering she injects herself daily with an old woman's spine liquid while loathing her for existing. Elizabeth and Sue are both victims and perpetuators of violence, and it's gruesome because it's not a silly feminine thing, it's all-encompassing and a matter of life and death. Without violence, what would be the message of the movie? "It kinda sucks to be a woman hating your body". Doesn't sting, isn't it? This is not chopping women and putting them in refrigerators to give the good guy a reason to kill the baddie, this has to be violent to show the depth of pain of the protagonist. It's necessary. And I like it, because crying and wallowing in pain is not the behaviour you want to see on screens, it feels lethargic and leads to the problem not being taken as seriously.

[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[torubeth]

degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with.