#pain over softness only!! they deserve it

[revelboo]

pulled double starscreams today. do not regret it

Nice!

Even If It Kills Me Pt 12

Armada Starscream x Reader

• You’d called it a cold, but why is your skin so warm to the touch when normally you’re shivering? Sprawled back on his berth with your nest of blankets and you on his chassis alongside his canopy, he keeps his palm cupped over you, a servo against your spine. Feeling every time you cough and hating it. And for once, the mini-cons hadn’t piled on him, too. Keeping their distance and unsettled by your obvious discomfort.

• Sweating, you kick your leg out from under the sheets and want to cry when Starscream immediately covers you again. You’re burning up and know he means well, but you’d been a lot less miserable on the cold floor, because he’s warm under you. And you just don’t have the heart to ask him to put you down. Wondering how offended he’d be if you strip down to your underwear on him just to cool off. Most likely, he wouldn’t care. It’s not like you have anything he’s the least bit interested in anyway.

• Hears you mutter something that sounds like ‘eff it’ under your breath and before he can try to figure out what that means, you’re sitting up on him and peeling off your outer coverings. Staring owlishly down at you as you ignore him and pointedly kick your blankets off of him. And then sprawl against him on your belly with a shiver. What just happened? Maybe you’re getting worse? “I could carry you to a human medic,” he grumbles, servos hovering over your spine, but entirely sure if he should touch you now. Or why you’d taken off your coverings.

• Cheek pressed against his canopy since it’s the only part of him that’s not as warm, you look up at his serious frown. Still worrying over you? “Really. I’m fine.” Absolutely miserable and feverish, but fine. “If I start hallucinating, then you can carry me to a doctor.” And that frown deepens, apparently not taking your joke well. “I’ve been worse.” Venting at you, one of his servos touches your bare shoulder and slides down your spine. Slides over a bit and stops there. Eyes closing, when he gently rubs against what feels like a bruise. Know you’re covered in them.

• Wants to ask about the mark on your skin, but now that he’s looking, they’re everywhere. Little splotches of color. Some purple, some yellow or green. Bruises. “I’ve always bruised easily. It’s no big deal,” you tell him sensing where his thoughts have gone, and he grimaces. Are these from him handling you? There’re smaller ones that must be from the mini-cons. Your soft skin marking so ridiculously easy. Hurting you when he’s trying to protect you. “You didn’t hurt me so stop frowning like that.” Chin lifting as those tired eyes narrow and you start coughing again. Letting his head fall back against the berth, he covers his face with a hand. Even when he’s trying to do good, he still destroys. Maybe Megatron’s legacy of pain is too much a part of him. Maybe it’s all he’s good for.

• Great. You made him depressed, his optics staring up at the ceiling. Again. Groaning at yourself and your giant, melancholy guardian, you shakily stand and his big hands immediately cage you. Not touching you, but hovering nearby like he thinks you might fall. Reaching to grab a servo, you lean into his huge palm. And drag that servo to your side, pressing it against the jagged scar there. “I dropped a plate. My fault. He was behind me, already mad and I just dropped it. Hit me with his bottle and it broke. Cut me,” you tell him, expression twisting with the memory of the fear. Can’t look at his face right now, because even knowing these things weren’t your fault, part of you still feels like they are. Like if you’d been better you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. That the pain was because you’d done something wrong. Deserved it. Lifting your arm, you touch another smaller scar above your elbow. “Argued with him. I don’t even remember what it was about, but he shoved me. Banged it on the counter when I fell.” Your voice and hands are shaking, want to blame it on the fever, but telling someone this is like bleeding the poison out.

• Servo gently tipping your chin up, his spark aches when you offer him a tremulous, broken smile. Runs his glossa over his denta as he carefully shifts under you. Willing himself to reach out in return. Knows you only meant to drive home that he’s not hurt you, that you know pain, but he understands that empty look on your face. Recognizes the look of someone resigned to pain and blaming themselves for deserving it. His own servos lifting to touch a discolored weld hidden under his jaw on the sensitive mesh of his neck. “Questioned a foolish order,” he whispers. And you take turns through the night. Each showing a scar and the reason for it. Sharing the pain to halve it, bound together by the same trauma.

Previous

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — beneath the stars, we became one: chapter 016.

the kiss lingered. not on your lips, but in your mind.

it played over and over, the memory of rin's hands cupping your face, the softness of his lips, and the intensity of his gaze. the way he'd kissed you wasn't impulsive, it was careful. so so careful, like he'd been holding back and finally let himself go. for someone like rin, who kept his emotions locked away, it felt like a moment of quiet vulnerability. and that terrified you.

the first night after the kiss, you couldn’t sleep. you lay awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, the city lights casting faint patterns on the walls. the kiss replayed, but it was no longer just a sweet memory. it was tangled in a mess of doubt, fear, and questions.

what does this mean now?

rin wasn’t the type to kiss someone casually. you knew that. and yet, the weight of what it implied felt suffocating. you weren’t sure you were ready to face it.

because you'd been here before.

not with rin, but with kyo.

kyo. your first love.

the thought of him made your chest tighten, the ache of old wounds resurfacing. kyo had been your first heartbreak, the kind that left marks you couldn’t see but always felt. you thought back to how you’d loved him, how you’d given him every piece of yourself, only to watch him carelessly break it again and again.

the charm, the laughter, the sweet words - kyo  had been everything you thought you wanted. until he wasn’t. until the promises turned empty, the texts unanswered, and the apologies hollow. and even then, you’d forgiven him. not once, not twice, but so many times you’d lost count.

you forgave him because you were attached. because you thought that was what love was supposed to feel like - painful, messy, and one-sided.

you curled into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as the memories washed over you. the fear of being hurt again, of being vulnerable, felt paralyzing.

kyo had taught you how to hold on, even when you should’ve let go. rin, on the other hand…

rin wasn't kyo. he wasn’t careless or manipulative. rin didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep, and he never made you feel small. he didn’t chase after your attention with flashy words or grand gestures; he was honest, steady, and… real.

and that scared you more than anything.

because with kyo, you’d expected the heartbreak. you'd almost braced yourself for it every time you forgave him. but rin? rin made you want to trust again. to hope again. and if things didn’t work out, you weren’t sure you could survive that kind of pain a second time.

you sat up, rubbing your temples as you tried to make sense of your thoughts. the room felt too small, too confining, and your mind raced. the logical part of you knew rin didn’t deserve to be compared to kyo, but the emotional part of you, scarred and cautious, couldn't help it.

maybe if you pulled away now, it wouldn’t hurt as much later.

the thought hit you like a punch to the gut, but it made sense. if you distanced yourself from rin, you wouldn’t have to risk falling for him completely. you wouldn’t have to risk him breaking you.

but as much as you tried to convince yourself, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered the truth:

you already were falling for him.

the thought settled in your chest, heavy and unyielding. you were already falling for Rin, and it scared you. because falling meant losing control. and control was the one thing you had promised yourself you’d never give up again.

you sighed and pushed yourself off the bed, pacing the small space of your room. pullinh away seemed like the safest option, but the idea of actually doing it made your stomach churn. rin wasn’t someone who would let things slide without noticing. if you started creating distance, he would call you out on it. and what would you say?

“sorry, rin, i'm scared of you breaking my heart”?

how pathetic.

you shook your head, frustrated. you hated this. you hated the overthinking, the fear, the way you couldn’t just enjoy the moment. you wanted to be brave, to take a leap and see where things would go. but every time you tried to convince yourself, memories of kyo's lies and your own heartbreak came rushing back.

what if rin got tired of you?

what if you weren’t enough for him?

what if this ended the same way as before?

you stopped pacing and leaned against your desk, staring out the window. the city lights twinkled, indifferent to your turmoil. for a moment, you let yourself imagine a different version of yourself - one who didn’t overthink, who didn’t hold onto the past, who could give rin the trust he deserved.

but that version of you felt impossibly far away.

your phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. you picked it up and saw a message from rin.

my beloved 😈😈😈: got home safe?

three simple words, yet they made your chest tighten. 

your fingers hovered over the keyboard. for a moment, you considered not replying, letting the distance start now. but then you thought about the look in his eyes when he kissed you, the way his hand lingered on your face like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you couldn’t do it. not yet.

you: yeah, just tired. and you?

the reply came almost instantly.

my beloved 😈😈😈: same.

you stared at the screen, at the single word that somehow felt like more. you could almost picture him, sitting in his room, his expression as unreadable as always but his thoughts possibly just as restless as yours.

closing your eyes, you let out a slow breath. you weren’t sure what you were going to do, how you were going to handle this, but one thing was certain: you couldn’t avoid rin forever.

for now, you’d let yourself be in this moment. just for a little longer.

chapter 015 > here > chapter 017

back to beneath the stars, we became one !

my taglist is open <3

a/n: I'm crashing out

taglist: @byakgans @bluberrymochi17 @levihanmyotp @x3nafix @etojlee @chuuyalvover @reocidal @syarc0re @azinniyaa @vashyuu @rwbie @idexmids @giaalorine @modxbea @nensi @anqelkoz @sapph1r3x @yuukigyatgyat @morgyyyyyyy @azharyy @chaerinmin @thenightsflower @narcjsistx @totheseok @meekydeeks @aerisevx @imas1mpp

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[girl-lostconnection]

So people have asked for more Odyssey!au GhostxReader and people shall get more. (But you didn’t request anything specific, so you get angst today🫦)

Odyssey!au Ghost x plus size!gn!Reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort

The journey back home is hard and gruelling. The journey is merciless and tough on Ghost’s body. Even tougher on his mind, now that he’s not even sure he will manage to find you. (If you are even alive, if you are waiting for him, if you still love him)

The only thing that stubbornly holds on when everything else fails is that he refuses to die before he sees you again.

Ghost always slept less than most people.

Just never been good with it — dreams in general usually aren’t too kind to him.

He’s grateful they are not.

Because it’s so much worse when they are.

Because once he falls asleep and he’s in your hands again, and he’s safe and warm and so so loved again it makes something tender inside of him throb with phantom pain.

He wants it so much and you are here again, your lips on his face, your smile shining for him and your eyes crinkling.

“I’m never leaving”, your whisper leaves him breathless and reverent, his eyes drinking in every detail of your face, every sparkle of your eyes.

For once since he started this journey it’s finally soft and warm, his face presses in your belly, hands circling around to hold you closer.

And god, does it feel good, does it feel right and perfect and like everything he has ever wanted.

Just a little more, just for a few more minutes-hours-days, please, love, please. Just stay, don’t go, don’t leave.

And for a glorious warm moment he’s home again. He’s warm, he’s happy, he’s safe. He’s loved again.

He’s Simon again.

And you are so close and you whisper love confessions in his lips, fingers combing through his blond hair. And he allows himself to relax in the moment, to just let go and believe that maybe it all payed off. Maybe he’s home again. Maybe gods were merciful and fates were kind.

Maybe he deserves to be happy.

And then he wakes up — heart pounding in his chest, hollow pit opening when the realisation hits him.

And god, does it hurt. He knew it wasn’t entirely real, he could feel himself dreaming, part of him even braced for impact.

But it’s so much worse than anything he’d ever expected. His body shudders, a choked pained sound tearing through the tender insides of his throat. Because please, please, no.

Please, he needs you back. Please, he’ll do anything. He’ll claw and he will fight another war and he will give it all away and he will pray and sacrifice and bleed and bleed and bleed.

But no one takes pity on him. And no one answers no matter how much he prays, sobs forcing their way through his body with such power he’s physically sick.

His fingers grip the grass so hard he tears it out the ground and his face is hot and wet and there is sickening pit in his belly and he feels like he’s breaking all over again.

Ghost doesn’t like to sleep — dreams are rarely kind to him.

It’s even worse when they are. He hopes they never will be kind to him again.

He’s not sure how much kindness he can swallow. He’s not sure if he can handle any kindness right now.

[milkb0nny]

Showers and Steam

Pairing: Dean x gn!reader

Summary: After a near death experience during a hunt, you realized that the cost for job was at some point your life. Dean noticed your anxious thoughts and decided to console you during a shared shower.

Note: I will write some different scenarios about kissing prompts for Dean. They might not be long but I think the idea is cute. <3

Content: MDNI +18, established relationship, anxious reader, kissing, fluff, a little bit angst, sexual tension, slight smut, comfort

Word count: ~1000

You felt the warm water dripping down your body, your hair soaked and your hands slightly wrinkled… but your mind was somewhere else.

The Winchester brothers and you were on a shapeshifter hunt, and to your dismay, you had been the target of that horrible monster. The details were blurry, you couldn‘t remember clearly, but the pain and the sounds were etched into the back of your mind.

The way your heart raced, only to slow down gradually. The way your limbs tingled before going numb. Today, you truly feared death, despite always convincing yourself you were stronger than that. No one, not even the coldest souls, is prepared for the moment they confront their mortality.

Dean and Sam had tried their best to console you, to make you feel better - to make you feel alive. But it wasn’t working. The thought of leaving Dean, of being ripped away from him, made your chest ache. You hated the idea. Sure, the job was merciless, but nothing should tear you apart from him. After all, you loved him.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Dean stepping into the shower behind you. You had been in there for twenty minutes, just standing still, your eyes tracing the drops as they raced down the tiles. Dean, understanding where your mind had gone, said nothing. He wanted to remind you that you hadn’t died.

That you were here… living, breathing… and that those thoughts didn’t deserve your time. Seeing you so lost, so weighed down, pierced him in a way he couldn’t put into words. His tiny world thought about crushing down, and he hated it.

Without a word, he poured some shampoo into his hands and began to massage it into your scalp. You didn’t have the energy to do it yourself, and so he took the sweet time to care for you. His fingers worked gently through your hair, creating soft, frothy bubbles. You felt his warm breath against your head, his chest lightly pressing against your bare back. The moment was intimate, yet so comforting and soothing.

You kind of appreciated this silence. You didn’t feel the need to explain yourself. Him just standing with you, his warm breath on your head and his chest slightly pressing against your bare back, was enough, and yet, not too much to pressure you. You didn’t need to explain yourself. He didn’t need you to.

Just his presence… just him standing there with you… was enough.

Skin on skin contact, he washed your hair slowly and steadily, with utter care and love. The water poured over your head, rinsing the soap down your skin. Dean huffed softly, his hands steady as they continued their careful work. His touch was soothing, and it gave you the courage to speak.

„I feel so strange,“ you mumbled, your voice barely overplaying the sound of the running shower. „I thought that was it today. I don’t know…“

You rambled on, feeling Deans fingers trace your neck now, softly caressing downwards your skin, coming closer and closer. You felt his subtle warmth. You trailed off, your words dissolving into the water, but Dean’s hands never stopped.

“But you’re here,” he replied, his voice low and steady. His hands moved to your waist, resting there with a possessive gentleness.

“Let me see that pretty face of yours,” he hummed, a faint teasing lilt in his voice.

You were quite obedient when he was so gentle towards you, so you did as he asked you to. Your defeated eyes gazed up to his green, lively ones. The pair of eyes which admired you so deeply, which never wanted you to leave him.

The tension between you vaporized as he cupped your face with his one hand, and pulled you closer on your waist which his other one. The way he looked at you felt like a promise… a silent vow that he would never let you go.

„I don‘t wanna die… and leave you here in this shitty world,“ you whimpered, still affected by the tears you have shed just moments before. Your hands were shaky, but you placed them on his naked chest, his heartbeat steady.

Dean shook his head, his thumb brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear that the shower hadn’t claimed.

“You’re not dying,” he said firmly. “You’re here, with me. You’re alive...Here, I’ll show you.“

He placed his forehead against yours, closed his eyes and felt your warmth for a moment. Your steaming hot skin, on which the water softly glided to the ground. You felt warm, and to him, pretty much alive. You were no corpse.

Dean leaned in, so slowly that it was agonizing. Your heart pounded against your ribs, your breath fastening as the distance between you shrank. Every second felt like an eternity, therefore almost unbearable. You wanted him to kiss you, to erase the lingering fear and pain, to remind you that you were his.

And then, finally, he closed the gap.

Your lips met, your soft skin softly touching his. There was passion, endearment and... naked, pure, love. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and breathtakingly intimate. His lips pressed against yours again, giving you room to breathe.

It wasn’t hurried or desperate - it was Dean’s way of comforting you, of showing you that he was here and that you were his world.

His hand on your waist pulled you closer until your bodies were flush, the heat of the water blending with the warmth radiating from him. You felt him, as he felt you. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours in perfect rhythm.

Oh, how that man longed for you.

Desired you.

Loved you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as the water continued to dripple down around you.

“You’re not leaving me,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “Not now. Not ever.”

You nodded, your eyes searching his. In that moment, you believed him more than your own worries. And for the first time that day, you sought something else but sorrow. Your mind begged for him.

[k-dokja]

Eli fluff pleaseeeee ❤️‍🩹

Kisses cuddles or something and I'll be at your feet 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

No… get up… don’t stay down there…

It’s pretty—very suggestive. Read at your own peril.

You try to not come by the store often. It’s better to give people the idea that Eli is single, because it’s good for business. You’ve been firm about that idea, no matter how often he pouts. Now that you’re back together again, Eli has grown far more confident about his affection for you more than ever. It’s cute… at times, it reminds you that even with everything, Eli remains a boy. Not yet a man.

He always pretends to be older than he is, more responsible, taking up more and more so others wouldn’t have to. Seeing Eli shedding some of that insane need for compensation is a delightful thing… if only he doesn’t redirect the new excess energy towards you.

Being able to send Yenna to the kindergarten also frees up a lot of his schedule, making him hover around you whenever he gets the chance. You have half the mind to tell him to get a hobby, but with the hours he works at the store then taking care of Yenna when the kindergarten hours is over, you think he deserves to have some graces.

”You’re just begging for an accident to happen,” you drawl, pausing your dicing of the vegetables to prove a point, but Eli only nuzzles further into your neck. A pleased hum emits from the base of his throat.

“Just a little more,” he murmurs into your skin before burying his nose into your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. To his credit, he actually releases you and attends to other ingredients. Eli seems to glow with happiness in these recent days, you guess you have some contributions to that.

It is one of the reasons why you can’t say you miss the days when he was so shy about his affection, it was painful to watch him. However, nothing can stop you from teasing him. “Somebody’s affectionate these days.” You nudge his side with your elbow, making him nearly drop the bottle of seasoning.

Eli flushes at your comment, biting down at his bottom lip. “Is that a bad thing?” He says it in a way that you know a single confirmation from you would revert everything to the old way. Fortunately for him, you are compelled by mercy today.

“Not really, I’m simply not accustomed to it,” you admit with a shrug that you hope would soften the blow. “I guess affection in general is new, I don’t hate it but I don’t know how to respond to it.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Eli is quick to answer, but he won’t meet your eyes, “I can dial it down if you want, but if we’re both being honest, it’s not easy for my self-control to be around you.”

You give him a pointed look, “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Eli meets your eyes with panic in his own, “never, don’t even think that.”

“You’re not exactly the paragon of safe sex, you know,” you needle, unwilling to drop the matter now that he has brought it up.

Eli groans, dropping the food to pull you into a hug. He sets his chin on the top of your head, inhaling deeply before continuing. “Nothing will happen unless you want it to, I’m only saying that I have urges,” he tightens his hold around your waist, pressing a familiar kiss on your forehead, “urges inspired by you. But I will wait, and I will be prepared, if you ever wanted me.”

“If?” You smirk, glancing up at him. Guess not all of him has changed.

Eli meets your eyes again with a gentle smile of his own. “I’m not presumptuous enough to believe that you’d want me… at least, not at the level where I want you.”

“Hm.”

“Hm.”

You see his gaze softens and decide to ask, “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” his confession is breathless as he closes the distance between the two of you, little by little, “your eyes, your lips, your smell, your everything… but mostly, how much I want to kiss you.”

A soft laugh escapes you, “Then why aren’t you?”

That question alone is enough to spur him forward, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss with every bit as sweet as the boy you’re kissing.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hi! Congratulations on the likes!

Lucifer 47?

Lucifer + 47: "Corrosion" - Thy Art Is Murder

Heaven is burning, and it's all his fault.

Lucifer's six wings beat wearily around him as he takes a moment to look over the scene, clearing the smoke from his face with each heavy movement.

His heart, thudding in his chest with the exhaustion of battle, feels just as heavy. This is his home — it always has been, since the moment he was born. And he loves it. He loves this place, so much. The Celestial Realm is so full of beauty, with its flourishing landscapes of sun-drenched fields, its groves and gardens so lovely in their blooming.

And now, by his rebellion, that beauty is gone, trampled beneath the heavy footfalls of warfare.

Lucifer reminds himself that it is necessary, as he flies over to survey the fighting below in search of his siblings. No matter how beautiful, it wouldn't change that their lives here have been growing out of rotten roots. He's begun to see another way of life, a better way, but instead of even entertaining the thought of working towards peace between the realms, Father's concerns seem more fixated only on punishing angels for their crimes — angels like Lilith, too naive and loving for her own good.

But angels like them aren't supposed to be naive. They aren't meant to be anything. Angels are only meant to obey, as servants and soldiers, carrying out His will and His rules without question.

What a sorrowed land, to have to live that way.

He sweeps groundward, seeing a familiar face amidst a growing pool of red in his surveillance. "Baraquiel, are you alright?" he asks, hurrying to help an injured cherub to his feet.

The other angel gives him a weak grin. "Well, well, if it isn't our commander himself. Thank you, Lucifer. But sorry to say, I'm afraid I won't be much help for the rest of this battle."

"I should be the sorry one, for letting you bear these injuries to fight my battle." Lucifer shakes his head, readying a soft glow of healing magic over one of the worse injuries.

Baraquiel pushes the seraph's hand away with a gentle, regretful smile. "No, I — I chose to follow you. To try to leave the old ways. I wanted to give you my power…as my own decision, for once." He slumps limply against the remains of a half-fallen tree with a groan, though he tries not to let his grin fall. "Save your magic, Lucifer, sir. And if you could…I know Beelzebub is close with you. Could you tell him that I'm sorry? I don't think I'll be getting that burger I promised him after all."

Drip by drip, the lifeblood continues to drain from his face, but the cherub pushes all Lucifer's attempts at treatment away, insisting he move on. And it's true, there are others still out there. He still has Lilith and his brothers to look for, and many more battles still to fight before he can even dream of victory against Father.

Finally, Lucifer leaves, Baraquiel's words still reverberating in his heart. My own decision, for once.

The guilt for his fallen comrade is matched only by a regrowing bloom of rage.

The angels give everything for Father. And this is said to be correct, for He gave them their lives and everything they have.

But He also gives them pain, and they have no recourse for that. He would rather let so many of the angels die than give one moment's consideration that His punishments could be wrong — to allow for even a moment that Lilith, and so many other angels before her, could deserve better. To let any of the angels experience mercy. To let any of them truly find peace.

As Lucifer takes to the skies again, he grimaces, his focus renewed.

Heaven is burning. And it's all His fault.

[xrollingmyeyesx]

⌯ Smut Drabble 18+

↝🌸 pairing: Recom!Quaritch x Fem!Human!Reader

↝🌸 warnings: dubious consent (until the end), unedited, mentions of rough sex, p in v, recom!miles deserves its own warning lol

Masterlist

↝🌸 notes: This is unedited random stuff in my drafts, I feel really bad about not getting stuff out. Sorry it is short, I will try to get more stuff out. The chronic part of chronic illness is killer. Love y’all bunches 🤍🍯

I don’t really like Miles Quaritch but

Recom Miles Quaritch is feral for human women after changing into his new Avatar body. He probably tries getting off with his fellow recombinant women, but he thinks they just don’t feel the same. He definitely craves the softness of human women, the delicate curves and supple skin. He definitely prefers their rounded breasts, nipples pink and pert and filling his hands.

Recom Miles Quaritch definitely follows you, one of the only human women who has expressed interest in the recoms, around the compound, whole time thinkin’ you don’t notice his hulking blue form around every corner.

Recom Miles Quaritch who scents you when you walk past, greedy eyes following the sway of your hips with each step in the pretty heels you always wear. Recom Miles Quaritch definitely touches himself thinking about you in just those heels, the little red soles thrown behind his pointed ears as he gets to finally sate his craving.

Recom Miles Quaritch who gets hard just from hearing your voice. He hears you mumble, “Yes, Please,” to the line server at dinner one night and has to leave hungry because of the rising need.

Recom Miles Quaritch who can’t stop imagining sinking his new and improved canine teeth into the soft, supple flesh of your ass. Who imagines leaving little purple marks and red splotches on two rounded cheeks.

Recom Miles Quaritch who can’t stay away, who sneaks into your room at the Hell’s Gate barracks and waits, like a predator stalking prey, for you to get home from work. Recom Miles Quaritch who waits till you enter the kitchen to jump, to press your full chest to the cold metal of the kitchen counter top, maneuvering your hands above your head.

Recom Miles Quaritch who pulls your hear, who moans against the shell of your ear as you gasp underneath his heavy weight.

“Fuck, I can’t help it baby, been craving ya’ all day.”

Recom Miles Quaritch who can’t take you slowly, who barely eases his swollen head into your cunt before slamming home with a satisfied grunt. Recom Miles Quaritch who ruts like an animal, who isn’t in control of his baser, alien instincts yet. He doesn’t slow for your benefit, doesn’t slow to account for new size and your much, much smaller one.

Recom Miles Quaritch who swallows your moans, who slots his mouth over yours to quiet your cries as he claims you in the middle of your own barracks. Recom Miles Quaritch who craves the soft “unh, unh” sound you make with each thrust home.

Recom Miles Quaritch who comes fast, whose new body doesn’t have the experience his consciousness does. Like a school boy, Recom Miles Quaritch comes before he’s ready, with a pained grunt and warm seed heating your belly, spilling out from you around his length and pooling on the counter below.

Recom Miles Quaritch who cleans you up after, but of course has to use his mouth. Who needs a wash cloth when he can just slide his tongue in between your puffy folds, sucking at that little bundle until you’re grasping at him, eyes rolled back in your head and begging him to let you finish.

Recom Miles Quaritch who makes you come with his mouth than once before he really cleans you up. He might be an asshole, but he never leaves a woman unsatisfied.

Recom Miles Quaritch who secretly likes cuddles after sex, who drags you to his bed and holds you hostage until you convince him to shower.

Recom Miles Quaritch who always checks your color, who never lets you pass yellow and whispers soft words to you the rest of the night.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲-𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: they are your ex hubby and baby daddy and they want you back, make up sex, monster fucking with true form!sukuna - why let something like logic stop me from being horny when we can have the king of curses for a baby daddy, jealous!possessive!Satoru, sukuna isn’t jealous but crashed your date with pride, daddy/mama/princess, praise/praising degradation/mocking/teasing/light humiliation/embarrassment, squirting, manhandling, choking, smacking, satoru uses a clone, jerking off, pain kink, pussy slapping, vibrator, forced quick orgasm, overstimulation, Toji is doing his best to sweet talk you

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Toji being your hot ex-husband who comes over Gumi every week and trying to fuck you as well

Oreo: in my quest to answer old asks here we are! Thank you for waiting anon if you did, if you didn’t I hope this reaches you one day! 🫶🏽

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

He turns on your small vibrator, climbing onto your bed. Staring down at you with stunning forest green eyes. “This is what you got to replace me?” You hate how much you love the sight of his massive chest, cocky smirk and thick thighs.

Toji’s cock hangs and lightly sways as he comes closer. You want to him to stretch you out and fill you up. Make you his dumb cock drunk mess who only whines for more.

Ignoring your better judgment to kick your ex back out. You spread your legs, showing Toji how wet your soft cunt is for him. “It makes me cum without bein’ an cold hearted asshole.” You voice isn’t firm like you want. It’s trembling from four months of pent up frustration meeting your desperate anticipation.

The smirk in his face drops a little. “Deserved that.” His smirk softens to a charming smile. “Lemme make it up to ya mama.” He spits on your clit, stroking you with the pulsing toy. Nudging your soft wet cunt with two thick fingers slowly gliding them in.

“I been missing seeing your sweet cunt stretch for me. You feel so soft, wet n’ warm wanna feel ya cumming on my cock. Nothing else gets me off like seeing you soak my cock.” Stroking your sweet spot, focusing on you making you cum quickly.

Closing your eyes moaning, clenching his thick fingers, digging your heels into the bed. You’re lost in the immense relief, muffling your moans with your hand.

Toji pouts, “Look at me beautiful lil mama.” Pumping his fingers faster, adding more pressure to your clit with the toy.

“Let’s make a bet, if I make you cum harder with your toy then you can I win.” The pleasure is intense with the toy pulsing on your soft clit and his fingers working magic. He isn’t playing fair, using his knowledge of your body against you.

Whimpering, “Just tell me you need money.” He’s gaze is too intense, closing your eyes. Biting your lip trying to muffle your cries refusing to give Toji more satisfaction.

Keeping his pace steady, coaxing you towards cumming on his fingers. “I do want money but not from you. What I need is for ya to look at me. Wanna see the look in beautiful eyes when you cum.”

His cheeks flush pink, dripping his voice low whining. “Please.” It shoves you over the edge. Your soaking wet, sensitive cunt spasms, the vibrations on your sensitive clit becoming too much.

“Since I’m winning I wanna take ya out to dinner.” Biting your soft tight, the sweet pain adding at the intense pleasure. “I missed ya sweet tits, squishy thighs, soft stomach, and soaking wet cunt.”

You already came, you couldn't, not again so quickly. Yet you’re quivering, eyes watering, your moans getting louder. Toji muffles your cry with his lips

Rentlessly fucking your sensitive, sloppy wet cunt in a squirting mess, soaking the bed. He doesn't stop, fucking you through your high.

It’s too much yet you want more. You want to feel Toji’s thick cock twitching, his veins pulse seconds before he cums in you. Tears trickle down the side of your face.

Toji breaks away, smirking, “You’re so breathtaking tremblin’ n’ nearly crying cause the pleasure is too much. I've barely done anything and your soaking the bed. Shows how badly she needs me.” He sits up, turning the toy off tossing it aside.

Grabbing himself slapping your cunt with his heavy cock. Jerking your hips back, reflexivly trying to close your legs to escape the overstimulating stinging slaps. He croons, “Is it too much for your poor little cunt?” Dragging himself himself between your lips, running away when he nudges your sensitive clit.

Whimpering, “Yes but I want more, please daddy fuck me with your fat cock.” He flips you over, putting your ass up in the air. Lining himself up, gliding just his fat tip admiring how you stretch to take him. “Or should I call it mine?” You can't wait any long, pushing your hips back taking his cock.

“Nnn fuck that’s it mama fuck yourself with my cock. How good does it feel? Does it make you feel like a whore to fuck yourself like this? Using my cock like a toy.” He groans, it's a deep sound you’ve been missing.

He grabs your hips, meeting your hips with a harsh thrust. Stroking your sweet spot making your eyes roll back. He leans over you, pinning you down with some of his weight.

You’re clawing at the sheets unable to run away. “Come on lil’ mama give me another chance.”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

He’s in the shirtless. You want to fondle, squeeze, and bite his thick chest. Let your hands wonder down his beautifully sculpted body. You could dig your nails into his broad shoulders, spread your legs and take best cock you've had again.

You know how pleasurable it’s to be underneath and on top of him. Which makes not touching him for the past few months even worse. Finding someone that does it like Satoru is impossible.

“Got my shirt going in the washer with some of your clothes. Ya mind if I crash here for the night? It’s gonna be late by the time it’s dry.” Your brain freezes, and you’re thinking only with your cunt.

You’re caught, weakly snapping, “Fuck you for being hot.” You’re missing his warm, large hands groping your body, fingering your cunt. His soft warm lips peppering kisses like he’s worshiping you.

Satoru's pecs are fuller, and his arms are thicker, with two extra veins running down his forearms. When did he get this big?

He croons, “Careful sweetheart.” Grabbing the top of the doorway, filling it up, showing his size off, smirking. “If your date from last they knew how badly you want to fuck your hot baby daddy what would they think?” You’re stuck on his happy trail dipping into his jeans.

He hooks his thumb into his jeans. You rip your gaze away, cheeks burning, your cunt soaking your panties. "It was a second date so it’s none of their concern.” He steps closer, dipping his head down.

Leaning your head back, closing your eyes. “It’s not serious yet then good.” Opening your eyes, your body engulf by heat. The cocky smirk on his lips is infuriating.

He walks past you, standing in your bedroom door. “Why do you think you can help yourself to my room?” He turns around, his expression is cold, angry. It shouldn’t make you so horny.

Is he jealous?

He motions with two fingers, “Tonight it’s our room ya can fuck me for being irritatingly hot and I’ll show you who is better.” You follow him into your bedroom, closing and locking the door behind.

You suggest, “N’ if you fail to be better in bed?” Another Satoru grabs your hair from behind shoving you towards the original.

Nudging your lips with his thick fingers, gagging you when you part your lips. “Thank fucking god these walls are proofed imma make you moan my name like a prayer. I’m gonna have you cry out calling me god and worshipin’ my cock by the time were done.” Squeezing your neck, grabbing your tongue pulling out out to spit on it.

Stuffing your tongue back in with his long fingers. He unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down with his underwear, getting out his long, veiny cock.

Gliding his fingers out of your mouth, Satoru smears his spit on his cock. You wrap your fingers around him, smear his pre-cum with your thumb. Swirling your fist sliding your hand down his cock.

The clones lifts you off the ground, lining his cock up with your soft lips. Rocking his hips, grinding his warm, hard cock along your soft lips, softly stroking your sensitive clit.

Satoru loosens his grasp around your neck. “Stupid beautiful slut you brought him back here fucked him in what was our bedroom.” The clone Satoru pulls you back by your hips to meet his thrust. “Like your cunt doesn’t belong to me.” He grabs your thighs spreading you in a mating press.

Satoru groans at the sight your soft wet cunt taking his clone’s cock. “You wore this dress for him too.” He rips the front, smirking. He slips his blindfold off, tossing it on the bed. His eyes are cold, hard with intense jealousy you’ve never seen before.

You can’t glare up at him for ripping your dress. Unable to get mad with his cock stirring your guts up with each merciless, quick, deep stroke. He’s fucking a confession out of you. “Got it with you in mind. Knew it was something you liked to see on me.”

“It’s something I love seeing on you. It looks so much better like this, ripped with it bunched around your hips for you to take my cock.” You can’t focus on stroking his cock anymore. You’re too lost in the sweet pleasure of your needy, wet cunt stretching to take his long cock with it’s toe curling thickness.

Letting your thighs go when the clones grabs your thighs. He sits down, man spreading, spitting into his palm stroking himself. “Tell me lil baby mama whose fucking your sweet cunt in a sloppy wet mess?”

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Glancing Sukuna’s lips, he grabs your neck pulling you in close. His lips are so soft despite the roughness in his passionate hungry kiss. Slipping his hand up your dress squeezing your thigh digging in his nails. He slips his tongue in when you whine.

Dragging his nails up your thigh, squeezing your ass, lifting you off your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist. Desperately trying to keep from moaning into Sukuna’s hungry passionate kiss.

He’s hands and lips feel better than you recall, better then when you touch yourself at night. You missed his cocks, his deep groans, all four of his large hands fondling, restraining and playing with your fragile body pushing you to the point of breaking.

Carrying you through the hallway, closing the door locking it behind himself. Pinning you to the wall, dragging his nails up your thighs, fondling your ass.

He breaks the kiss, yanking your head aside by your hair. Biting your neck, you moan from the sweet pain. Using the second you steady to croon, “Aw you jealous Sukuna? Chased my date off.”

Rolling his crimson eyes Sukuna scoffs, “He isn’t enough for ya lil mama. And by the way you were undressing me from across the room I didn’t think you would mind.” His lips stretch into a cocky smirk that makes your cunt throb.

“You’re suck a rude slut with a broken lil cunt that craves both my cocks.” You want to sit on his face and cum till you’re trembling.

You plead with Sukuna, “Can you please?” Trailing kisses along his jawline, dragging your nails along his scalp. You bite his neck, he tilts his head to the side biting into his bottom lip. He moans from you sucking on the soft spot on his neck.

Stepping away from the wall, tugging you off his body dropping you onto your bed. He demands, “Say your a whore who thinks whose greedy lol cunt loves my monster cocks n’ I’ll fuck you stupid.”

Dragging his fingers along the inside of your thigh stopping shy of your cunt. Waiting for you to admit, “I’m your filthy whore who can’t stop thinking with her needy cock hungry cunt. Need ya to fuck me stupid please my King.” He bites his lip, his breath hitching.

“I need your cocks please no one else can compare to you. You make me cum so hard I can’t think straight or walk. Wanna be fucked into a stupid cum stuffed slut!” Lightly stroking your clit through your underwear. grinding your hips.

He croons, “That’s it! I missed hearing you beg. When I think my cock can’t get any harder, it’s almost hurtin.” Fondling himself through his pants, groaning.

“Please take my underwear off. Please my king!” Slipping his finger underneath your underwear. It shouldn't feel so good to have his finger brush your lips but your cunt is clenching.

He groans, “Fuck princess your so damn beautiful, makin’ you my baby mama only made you hotter. That makes you my Queen, my personal cumdump.” Transforming quickly. He’s twice your height and beautifully monstrous with four muscular arms, a mouth stretching across his hard abs. His dark pants outlining his hard cocks.

Unbutton his pants and freeing his cock with a loud sigh. Kicking his pants aside. Massaging his balls, admiring the sight of you laying down in bed with your dress pushed up and legs spread. Your soft cunt soaking wet for him.

Leaning over you, forcing you to look up, grabbing your hands pinning them above your head. Sukuna he slaps your cunt. “This is mine! It’s always been mine!” You reflexively jerk away from the intense sweet sting.

Sukuna yanks you back into place, pinning your legs open. Slapping your cunt again, licking your clit with his stomach’s tongue. Stroking your soft numb quickly, easing the stinging, gliding one thick finger one.

Curling it, remember how your sweet cunt likes it. Massaging your soft spot with the perfect speed and pressure reducing you to a moaning quivering mess, clenching his finger.

The sound proof bedroom containing your loud needy cries. “I miss how you double stuff me. Please, pleaseplease pleaseplease!” Your words are slurring together. His thick fingers are three of your combined, stretching your soft cunt out.

“I know lil’ mama no one can fuck ya like I can. It was a matter of time till ya missed me.” You’re creaming on his fingers too quickly. You shouldn’t be able to. Yet your cunt is clenching and creaming on his fingers.

Your cheeks burning. “Did you cuming so easily?” He smirk grows, “That barely more than a minute, you haven’t been treating her right.” His tongue strokes your puffy clit faster.

Oreo creampie’s m.list

[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.

[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)

[shotmrmiller]

size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.

you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.

your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)

and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—

he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.

after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.

"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.

maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.

his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.

you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?

he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.

he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.

"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.

an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.

his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.

and he's only halfway in.

your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.

his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)

simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.

"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.

when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--

"harder."

he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.

your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.

simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...

you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.

(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You never meant for Eddie to know that you had a crush on him. What happened when he found out, courtesy of Mike Wheeler's big mouth?

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), angst to fluff to smut and then back to fluff?? I don't even know, idiots in love, p in v, semi-public sex (we get it on in the van, baby)

Part of @cherrycolored-punk's Softember event!

Divider credit to @saradika

Friday, May 16, 1986: the day you determined that Mike Wheeler was the worst. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, it couldn’t be easy growing up in Nancy’s perfect shadow. Just the time you spent working with her on the school newspaper was exhausting. 

That was where you were currently sprinting from, weaving through the empty hallways towards the drama room. Leave it to Nancy to schedule an emergency newspaper meeting on a Friday afternoon. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You kept your head down as you breezed into the Hellfire meeting. Even without looking, you could feel the guys glaring at you. The only thing less forgivable than missing a campaign was interrupting one. 

Gareth let out a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nice of you to join us, Lady Atwood.” He shifted forward in his seat. “You’re in luck today—our fearless Dungeon Master has yet to grace us with his presence.”

You wrinkled your nose, only then noticing that Eddie’s throne remained empty. “Where is he?”

From his spot at the table, Mike Wheeler scoffed. “Surprised you don’t know, considering you’re basically in love with him.”

You were about to refute his statement, or at least give him a well-deserved middle finger, when you heard a clattering behind you. 

Like metal hitting the floor tiles.

No. No, no no no…

“S-Sorry.” Eddie stammered. He quickly scooped up the tin lunch box that doubled as a place to stash his weed. “I had a last-minute deal. Apparently there’s a party at McKinney’s house tonight and he needed some, uh, provisions. So, uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting around the room and looking at everyone except for you. “We can get started.”

There might as well have been a spotlight beaming down, accentuating the embarrassment written all over your face. Everyone in Hellfire knew about your crush on Eddie, but they had the decency to keep it a secret. 

Everyone except for Mike Wheeler, apparently. God, you wanted to squish that little shit like a bug beneath your shoe.

It certainly didn’t help that Eddie kept glancing at you, even when he addressed the group. Like he was waiting for you to say something about Mike’s comment. Waiting for you to refute it, to roll your eyes and whip out a snappy comeback. Maybe he was even hoping you would.

He was probably internally cringing just thinking about you having romantic feelings for him.

“Lady Atwood?”

Your gaze instinctively snapped over to Eddie when he said your name. He was looking at you, brown eyes wide with anticipation of your response. 

Warmth crept up your neck. He had heard what Mike said about you being in love with him–he had to have. He’d just had the good grace to brush over it because…

Because he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to cause you any further humiliation.

“Y-Yeah?” You choked on the word, trying to put the incident behind you. But you couldn’t, because the pain of unrequited feelings kept yanking on your heart, drawing tears that you desperately wished would evaporate.

“Gareth the Great has proposed battling the demogorgon.” There was a hint of a smirk on Eddie’s lips. It was your first clue that the move would prove entertaining, perhaps at your character’s demise. “We’re waiting for your input.”

Nodding, you chewed the inside of your cheek and studied the board. Okay, it looked like winning the battle was feasible, though a bit risky. The rest of the club watched as you contemplated; Gareth especially was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Then the ceiling started leaking. Soft drops with no particular rhythm, landing on your cheeks. Just your luck–first Mike’s big mouth spilled your secret, then whatever nastiness was living in Hawkins High School’s pipes was now seeping into your skin.

“Holy shit, is she crying?”

Dustin Henderson’s voice broke into your thoughts. His tone, for possibly the first time since you’d met him, held only concern with a note of snark.

Who was crying? You were the only girl in the club now that Ronnie had graduated, save for the times Erica Sinclair served as a substitute. Which meant…

“Way to go, asshole.” Lucas thwacked Mike across the chest. 

“I didn’t know he was there!”

The purple fabric of your shirt darkened beneath your arms as another disconcerting flash of heat hit you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Maybe you’d get lucky and the floor would open beneath you and swallow you up. 

“I need to get some air.” Whether you spoke the words aloud or said them silently to yourself, you weren’t sure. 

Your feet seemed to carry you out of the room and through the school’s front doors. Tears blurred your vision, and you swiped them away before any other lingering students could see. 

The air was warm, teasing of the approaching summer. God, summer—you always spent it with Eddie, lounging by the public pool or sitting down at Lovers Lake. You’d read a book while he pored over his Hellfire notebook, scribbling notes for future campaign ideas. 

Would he still want to do that, to spend those long days with you, now that he knew about your pathetic crush? 

It wasn’t until you reached the parking lot that you remembered: Eddie drove you to school that morning. If you started walking now, you’d definitely get home before dark. Or maybe you could call your parents from the payphone if you managed to scrounge up the change—

The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks. You should’ve kept walking the moment you saw Eddie, his frizzy curls bouncing as he jogged over to you. 

“Hey.” His hand brushed yours, though you pulled away before he could grab ahold of it. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He sighed. “Okay, let me rephrase that: Why did you leave? Because of what Wheeler said?” Eddie let out a small, disbelieving laugh when you nodded. “He’s such a little shit. Always messing with me. I’m gonna kick his sorry ass one of these days.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Messing with Eddie? “What are you talking about?”

“That joke about you being in love with me. He obviously saw me in the doorway and said it to embarrass me.” A blush crept onto Eddie’s cheeks. “Y’know, ‘cause…”

But you didn’t know. You had no idea what he meant. And as much as Mike was a menace, he seemed sincere when he said he didn’t realize that Eddie was there. 

“Because why?”

“Because,” Eddie’s gaze shifted to his van’s tires before he finally looked at you again. “Because he knows I have this dumb crush on you, and he thinks it’s hilarious to fuck with me about it.”

Words evaded you. This had to be some sort of elaborate set-up. Eddie had a crush on you? When girls like Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway lived in the very same town? 

Impossible. 

Not privy to the argument playing out inside your head—thank God—Eddie babbled on. “I know it’s weird. That’s why I haven’t told you—well, until right now. And I’m starting to regret it, because you’re looking at me like I have three heads. So maybe I’ll just shut up now.”

“No.” Summoning all of your courage, you took his hand in yours and managed a smile. “Eddie, Mike was teasing me because I like you. More than a friend should like a friend.”

Eddie’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “What if I told you…I don’t want to just be friends?”

You let your eyes meet his. “I-I don’t want to just be friends, either.”

He took a pause before he asked his next question. Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you waited for him to speak.

“And what if I did this?” One palm, callused from years of guitar playing, cupped your cheek. Eddie moved closer, his nose bumping against yours in a clumsy attempt to close the gap between you. “Shit, that–that was supposed to be suave.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Munson.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. Your fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him back towards you and finishing what he had started.

His lips, soft and tasting vaguely of the cigarettes he’d smoked after school, crashed into yours. One hand snaked around your waist and pressed you against him until you felt his metal belt buckle through your shirt.

You moaned softly, letting his tongue into your mouth without hesitation. More, more, more…you needed more. You needed all of him. 

It was Eddie who broke the kiss, much to your chagrin. But what he said next made up for the loss.

“Sorry…I’m trying to be a gentleman. But it’s, uh, getting a little hard.” He chuckled, stealing another quick kiss. “Pun very much intended.”

A quick glance proved that Eddie wasn’t lying: His erection tantalizingly strained against his fly. What you wouldn’t give to feel him inside you…

“Y’know, take you on a date, tell you how pretty you look,” Eddie continued, shifting his stance in a pitiful attempt to quell his desire. “I don’t wanna go at it in the school parking lot like some feral rabbits.” He waved his hand haphazardly. 

You bit your lip, weighing your options. A date would be nice; perhaps a night at The Hawk, his arm around you as a movie played on a giant screen. Or maybe he’d take you to dinner—nothing as expensive as Enzo’s, but somewhere more romantic than your usual Benny’s hangout. 

A date with Eddie was something you’d only ever dreamed of. But right now, you needed to live out a different fantasy before you combusted from an overload of lust. 

“Remember the first campaign you created this year?” Your soft voice held a sultry air despite your nerves. “It was your most sadistic one yet. We were all ready to forfeit, but you took pity on us and gave us a hint.”

Taking a deep breath, you plunged your hand into his front pocket. “Do you remember what you said?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can’t remember my own goddamn name right now, Sweetheart.”

You laughed, your finger hooking around his keyring. “You said that sometimes, it’s better to work backwards.”

With a triumphant grin, you plucked the keys from his pocket. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” His own smile betrayed his exasperated exterior as he grabbed your hand. His van seemed a million miles away, though it was parked in one of the closest spots in the lot. 

Eddie yanked open the back door, waiting just long enough for you to get settled before he scrambled in behind you. The moment the door closed, he pulled you on top of him. 

You could feel him, feel his hardness, against your core. You rolled your hips instinctively, savoring the friction. 

Hands clamped down on your denim-covered thighs. “You gotta…you can’t…” Eddie choked, struggling for words. “We’re already about to do it in my van. I don’t wanna look even more pathetic by coming in my pants.”

Warmth blossomed in your body. You could imagine him sputtering out a stream of swear words as he came, flooding his own boxers with his release. 

Maybe another day. 

Buttons were undone, flies were unzipped, clothes were discarded into a pile in the corner of the van. It was only you and Eddie, not a single scrap of fabric between you. 

Sweat glistened on his chest, matting down the sparse hairs that curled around his nipples. You leaned in, kissing just above the demon head tattoo etched on his pec. 

“Baby,” he crooned. The new pet name wasn’t lost on you. Your heart beat faster, a butterfly frantically flapping its wings. “Baby, I need you.”

He did need you, unless he was going to take care of his achingly hard cock by himself. The pink tip leaked with pre-cum, and if you had more room, you would have licked it clean off. 

You settled for swiping it away with your thumb, his abdomen tightening at the sudden contact. Eddie nearly passed out on the spot when you sucked on your finger, savoring the salty taste.

“Baby,” he groaned again. “I w-wanted to get you off first, ‘cause I know I’m not gonna last like this.”

“S’okay.” You lined him up with your entrance, ignoring the way your hands shook as you slowly sank down onto him. His hips bucked up almost of their own accord. “F-Fuck, Eddie…”

Eddie looked up at you, brown irises wide. He paused for an extra moment; maybe he really had forgotten his own name. “I know, I know,” he said finally. “God, I fucking know, baby.” 

His thumb found your clit the second he composed himself, rubbing delicate circles until your toes curled. His other hand held you with just enough force to keep you stable while still being able to ride him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He let out a breathless laugh. “If I wake up and this was all a dream, I’m gonna be pissed.”

You shared the same thought. What if the Eddie laying before you, curls splayed against the worn carpet of his van, groaning your name–your name–was all a mirage? Another fantasy conjured up by your lovesick brain?

“I’ve never had a dream this good before.”

“Me either,” he admitted, “but the only ones that’ve come close involve you.”

You tightened around him, your hands flush against his chest. The fact that you occupied his thoughts, unconscious or otherwise, sent a wave of arousal rolling through you. You wanted to hear every last detail of those dreams, to know exactly what turned him on.

Maybe later. Right now, your focus stayed on the way he touched you. So intentional, so precise. And Eddie worked you through your orgasm, keeping his same rhythm as you came around him.

“There you go, pretty girl. That’s it,” he murmured. “‘M close. Where do you–where can I–”

“Inside.” You’d never been more grateful to be on the pill. 

Eddie let himself go, unleashing a torrent of desire. He thrust into you, chasing his own release now that he knew you’d gotten yours.

It was only when he slowed his pace, milking the last drops of cum from his cock, that reality began to settle in.

You just had sex with your best friend in the back of his van, a few hundred feet away from where your friends were gathered around a DnD board–

“Oh my God, Eddie!” Your eyes snapped open in realization. “Hellfire–they’re still there.”

Eddie pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You relaxed into his chest. “They’re smart guys when they’re not being idiots.” The words vibrated against your skin. “I’m sure they figured out that we weren’t coming back.”

He sighed, wrapping one arm around you. “Can I take you on that date now, baby? Y’know, once we get dressed.” He smirked. “We can go to Scoops Ahoy and split a sundae. And then, if you want, I’ll take you back to my place and undress you again?”

You scrambled for your clothes almost as quickly as you’d shed them, Eddie following suit. And as much as you wanted to have sex with him again, to really take your time and cherish each second, you were equally excited to cuddle up in a booth and share some ice cream.

Friday, May 16, 1986: the day Mike Wheeler’s lack of filter didn’t completely backfire. Because it was also the day that you and Eddie Munson became boyfriend and girlfriend.

--

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short

summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.

a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.

you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.

the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.

this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.

when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.

once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.

“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”

you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”

your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.

he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.

he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”

you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”

he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”

“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.

he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”

you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.

you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.

he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”

[rmview]

finding out you were a bet, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when you find out that dating you was actually a bet they made but they caught the feels!

contents — angst, arguments, hurt.

hee ☁ seung

heeseung froze when he saw the look on your face — hurt, betrayal, disbelief. “you knew?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

“you lied to me,” you said, your voice trembling as you held back tears. “dating me was just a bet?”

heeseung’s head fell into his hands as he sank onto the edge of the couch. “at first, yes,” he admitted, his voice shaky and almost panicked. “but it wasn’t supposed to turn into… this.”

“into what?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing as the frustration bubbled over. “into me falling for you while you were laughing behind my back?”

“no!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to startle you. he stood abruptly, his face pale as he struggled to meet your eyes. “i swear it was never like that. it was stupid — immature. i didn’t think… i didn’t think i’d fall for you the way i did.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms as tears spilled over. “how am i supposed to believe anything you say now?”

he took a hesitant step closer, his hands raised as if to reach for you but stopping midway. “because i know i don’t deserve your trust, but i love you. that’s real. it’s the only thing i’m sure of,” he said, his voice shaking. “if you walk away right now, i won’t blame you, but please, don’t think for a second that what i feel for you isn’t real.”

jay ☁

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice cold but laced with pain. “were you ever going to?”

jay’s jaw tightened as he leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. “i wanted to, but i didn’t know how,” he admitted, his tone subdued.

“right, because lying to me was easier,” you shot back, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

jay finally looked up, his dark eyes filled with regret. “it wasn’t like that,” he said firmly. “at first, yeah, it was a bet. but i didn’t think it would turn into this. into me actually caring about you.”

“you cared so much you kept it a secret,” you said bitterly.

he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you. “because i was scared of this,” he said, gesturing between you. “of losing you before i could show you how much you mean to me. i know it’s my fault and i messed up, but you’ve got to believe me when i say i’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

you hesitated, his words conflicting with your anger. “you broke my trust, jay,” you whispered.

“i know,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering. “and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back. just give me a chance to prove to you that i’m not the guy who made that stupid bet anymore.”

sung ☁ hoon

sunghoon’s face turned pale when you confronted him. “is it true?” you asked, your voice trembling. “was dating me just some kind of bet to you?”

he froze, his usually calm demeanor crumbling. “who told you that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“so it’s true,” you said, the hurt in your eyes making his stomach twist.

“at first, yes,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “but it wasn’t like that for long. i swear, everything i feel for you now… it’s real.”

you let out a bitter laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks. “how convenient for you. do you know how humiliating this is for me?”

“i know,” he said, his voice trembling as he took a step closer. “and i hate myself for it. for being so stupid, for not telling you sooner. but please, believe me when i say i never meant to hurt you.”

“how can i believe anything you say now?” you shot back.

he hesitated, his eyes pleading. “because i wouldn’t be standing here like this if i didn’t care about you,” he said, his voice breaking. “you mean everything to me. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. just… don’t walk away from me.”

jake ☁

the moment jake saw the text on your phone, he knew the truth had come out. “you know,” he said, his voice hollow as he approached you.

you turned to face him, eyes blurring with tears. “how could you do this to me?”

jake’s chest tightened at the sight of your pain. he had never seen you cry. “it wasn’t supposed to go this far,” he said quickly, his voice desperate. “it was a dumb bet, and i was stupid to agree to it. but i swear, everything after that… it’s real. you have to believe me.”

“how can i?” you asked, your voice cracking as you almost felt nauseous from the news sinking in. “you lied to me from the start, jake. i thought you cared about me.”

“i do!” he exclaimed, stepping closer. his hands hovered near yours, but he didn’t dare touch you. “i care about you so much it scares me. that’s why i didn’t tell you — i didn’t know how to admit i’d messed up so badly.”

you shook your head, your eyes full of hurt. “i can’t even look at you right now.”

jake’s shoulders slumped, his voice trembling. “i don’t blame you,” he said softly. “but if there’s even the smallest part of you that feels the way i do, please… let me fix this. let me prove i’m not that guy that you think i am. i don’t want to lose you.”

su ☁ noo

sunoo knew something was wrong the moment you looked at him, your usual warmth replaced with cold distance. “what’s going on?” he asked nervously.

“i know,” you said bluntly, holding up your phone with a message that revealed everything. “dating me was just a bet to you.”

his breath hitched, and he immediately shook his head. “it’s not like that anymore,” he said quickly, his voice filled with panic.

“then what was it like?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “was it all just a joke to you?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “it was never a joke, even in the beginning. i know i was wrong — so wrong — but i didn’t think it would turn into this. into me falling for you.”

you crossed your arms, tears welling in your eyes. “how am i supposed to believe that?”

sunoo’s own eyes filled with tears as he clasped his hands together, almost in prayer. “because i’ve never cared about anyone the way i care about you,” he said, his voice cracking. “you make me want to be better—to deserve you. please don’t give up on us because of my stupid mistake.”

jung ☁ won

jungwon could feel the tension radiating from you as soon as you walked in. “what’s wrong?” he asked cautiously.

you turned to him, holding your phone tightly. “were you ever going to tell me?”

his heart dropped. “tell you what?” he asked hesitantly, though he already knew.

“that this whole thing — us — was just a bet?” you said, your voice trembling with anger and pain.

jungwon’s lips parted, but no words came out. finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it started that way,” he admitted, his voice low. “but it’s not like that anymore. i swear, i didn’t mean for it to happen, but… i fell for you.”

you scoffed, your arms crossed. “do you know how humiliating this is for me? how stupid i feel for trusting you?”

“i know,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “and i hate myself for it every day. but please, don’t think for a second that my feelings for you aren’t real. they are.”

you shook your head, tears spilling over. “i don’t know if i can believe you.”

jungwon stepped closer, his expression desperate. “then let me show you,” he said softly. “give me a chance to prove to you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i’ll do whatever it takes.”

ni ☁ ki

ni-ki’s eyes widened as soon as he heard your words. “it was a bet, wasn’t it?” you asked, your voice cold.

he froze, his usually playful demeanor gone. “who told you?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

“so it’s true,” you said, your voice cracking. “i can’t believe this.”

“it was stupid,” he blurted, stepping toward you. “i was stupid. i didn’t think it would matter at first, but then i got to know you, and everything changed.”

you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. that i was just a game to you.”

“you were never just a game,” he said urgently, his voice trembling. “i know i messed up — i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness. but you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this, and i don’t want to lose you.”

you hesitated, your anger battling with the raw sincerity in his voice. “how am i supposed to trust you again?”

“i’ll earn it,” he said quickly, his hands clenching into fists. “i’ll spend the rest of my life earning it if i have to. just don’t leave. please.”

notes: first enhypen post <3 likes and reblogs are very much appreciated since i'm still a new writer :')

[rafeandonlyrafe]

only you, always

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

you would never admit it out loud to anyone, but a twisted part of you likes when rafe cheats on you. its a dark truth, one you wrestle with every time it happens.

it's always when he's blackout drunk or high at a party, usually a combination of both. it's often when you're fighting or on a “break”. like last week, when your blowout argument ended with rafe slamming the door behind him and stomping out into the night. you were quick to hear that he made out with some girl at kelce's party. the pain lasted until the next day when he showed up back home, disheveled and tear-streaked, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“i fucked up.” he croaked. 

you just stared at him until he fell to his knees, blue eyes rimmed with red as he pressed his forehead against your stomach. “please don’t leave me. i can’t lose you.”

the cheating hurts you every time, but rafe coming back crawling and crying, begging your forgiveness and worshiping you for the next few weeks always makes up for it.

“hi beautiful.” rafe kisses at your cheeks, a week having passed from your fight and his infidelity, the tension replaced with the warmth of his lips against your skin. 

“hey.” you smile, running your fingers over his face, stubble gracing his cheeks as he hasn't shaved for the last couple days, preferring to spend every waking moment with you instead as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i love you so much.” rafe leans in and kisses the tip of your nose this time, then your forehead, before dropping down to your lips.

“i don't deserve you.” rafe whispers before kissing you again.

“you probably don't.” you giggle, rolling on the bed so you're fully on top, pinning him beneath you. 

“i said i was sorry.” rafe pouts.

“and i forgave you.” you shake your head, your voice gentle but firm, realizing you probably shouldn't make fun of the situation, but humor feels safer than vulnerability.

“it won't happen again.” rafe says. it always does, yet he always promises it won't. maybe as you both grow older and more mature, both stop drinking and fighting so much, it will really be over, breaking the cycle. at least this time it was just kissing some random girl instead of sleeping with her.

you knew what you were getting into when you began dating rafe. he came with a wild reputation and an even wilder past. practically everyone in your friend group had a one night stand with rafe, but you didn't mind, because he chose to come back to you, not anyone else.

“what are you thinking about baby?” rafe asks, watching the emotions flicker over your face.

“just how good of a boyfriend you can be.” you answer with a small smile. 

“yeah?” rafe smirks, his head tilting to the side as a mischievous look flashes over his eyes. “do you want me to show you just how good of a boyfriend or do you want breakfast first?”

“you first.” you say quickly. “and then bacon and eggs.”

“scrambled or sunny side up?”

“scrambled of course.”

rafe grin grows, hands moving against your bare skin. “just like im about to scramble your-”

“allllright.” you cut him off before he can finish his joke, laughing as you roll off of him.

“no come back.” he pouts, pulling you back against his body, molding his chest to your back as he spoons you.

“you're so ridiculous.” you chuff, though your voice betrays the affection simmering beneath the surface.

“ridiculously in love with you.” rafe counters, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. he just had you last night, but he's already craving you again, missing the feeling of your bodies pressed together in the most intimate way.

“you're extra corny this morning.” you hum out.

“sorry.” rafe chuckles. you love that he's only like this around you, and only when he's just cheated. he turns into a dopey lovesick puppy until the need for your forgiveness and guilt wears off and he's back to his normal self.

rafe places his hand on your stomach, circling around your soft skin, each movement sweeping lower every time, deliberate and teasing.

“rafe.” you whine, eyes shutting as he begins to dip into your underwear with every gesture. 

“mhm.” rafe hums. as much as he likes to tease you, he wants to pleasure you more. his hand dips all the way into your underwear, fingertips coming to your clit.

he knows your body so well, exactly what to do to drive you crazy, every touch sending electricity through your body. his strokes over your clit are gentle, occasionally purposely missing to rub lower towards your entrance, like he's teasing where he's going to be later. it’s a dance you’ve done a hundred times before, but it never gets old.

“that feels so good.” you moan out, not even realizing that your eyes had fallen closed. rafe moves his other hand so it's under your body, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he sculpts himself around you, other hand cupping your chest.

“mmm.” you hum, feeling rafes hardness pressing against your bum as his fingers stop teasing your clit, rubbing intensely now with the purpose of getting you wet and open.

“oh, baby.” rafe moans as you reach behind your back, hand cupping over his underwear, squeezing at his length through the fabric.

“fuck me. please.” you begin to move your hips, grinding yourself against his hand.

“be patient.” he tsks, fingers pinching at your nipple before going back to cupping your breast.

“unfair.” you pout, but decide two can play at that game, bringing your hand underneath his waistband to stroke up and down his cock.

you can't see rafes face, but you're sure his expression just shifted to one of pleasure.

his hand delves further between your legs, finger circling around your entrance only once before pushing into your cunt, making you moan loudly.

“fuck yes.” you rock your hips again, this time back against rafes crotch, your hand still moving up and down his cock.

“god, i can barely wait.” rafe groans, finger moving faster inside of you, building you up as quickly as he can.

“stop waiting then.” you move your hand, turning onto your back, rafes hand maneuvering to still fuck into you. “come on, rafey.”

you know once he sees your pout he can't resist, not when he's still making things up to you.

“god, that face kills me.” he presses a quick kiss against your lips before moving, pulling your underwear down and flinging them off the bed before disrobing himself.

you grin as rafe doesn't even bother to ask how you want him, instantly lying himself over top of you and lining up his cock with your entrance.

“i love you.” you press a kiss against rafes cheek as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“i love you.” rafe echos back, connecting your lips that quickly develop into moans as he pushes inside of you, engulfing his cock in your heat.

rafe knows he doesn’t need to give you time, already used to his cock being sheathed inside of you. he begins to swing his hips in an even rhythm.

your fingertips dig into his shoulders, pressing into his tanned skin.

“nobody even gets close to you.” rafe groans as you tighten your cunt around him every time he pulls out to thrust back in.

“its only you.” rafe continues as he drops one hand between your bodies, placing his thumb against your clit as he rubs to the rhythm of his thrusts. “only you.”

you can't help that smile that stretches across your face. you don't give a shit if it's only you, as long as he continues to fuck you like this and treat you like a queen.

“faster, rafe.” you pull his chest tighter against yours, your nipples pressing against his skin, stimulating them with his every movement as he speeds up.

“c-close.” you whine.

“me too.” rafe grunts in agreement. “gonna cum in you, yeah?”

“yes.” you nod rapidly. “yes, please, please, please, rafe.”

your head is swirling with the overwhelming pleasure as rafes thumb presses against your clit just as his cock is thrust deep inside of you. it's enough to throw you over the edge, back arching up into rafe as you moan loudly, legs shaking as you feel him lose it to, his moans loud in your ear as he pumps into you.

“fuck, b-baby, y/n.” rafe groans as he finishes, making sure you get every last drop inside of you.

rafe drops himself to the side of you, the mattress bouncing as you both become slack against the sheets, hearts beating fast and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“i really do love you baby.” rafe says, his voice soft and slightly hoarse. “im sorry i always fuck things up.”

“you don't, though.” you move so you're resting against rafes chest, snuggled against his side. “you make mistakes but you always come back and make it right, that's all i ask for.”

you hear rafe sniffle and you know he's holding back tears, always extra emotional after a reconciliation, as if hes purging himself from the guilt.

“ill go make you some breakfast now if you wanna get dressed.” rafe slides quickly off the bed, keeping his back to you as he pulls his underwear back on.

“why would i get dressed if i want you to fuck me again after breakfast?” you tease, your lip quirking up.

you see rafes hand raise to his face, and you know he's wiping at his cheeks, but you give him time to collect himself, secretly happy only you can make him act like this.

“alright.” rafe turns around, his eyes still glossy but filled with adoration as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. “bacon and scrambled eggs and then ill fuck you on the table, then in the shower, then ill take you shopping and fuck you in the dressing room.”

“perfect.” you grin.

[connorsui]

In your tender gaze

Genre/warning: domestic fluff, Slice of Life, nanami looking at u like u are the only woman in his life, warnings? ..nah ..we don't divorce around here

Synopsis: Amidst the tranquility of their home, Nanami Kento cherishes the quiet moments with his wife, finding solace and profound love in their simple, tender interactions that offer a reprieve from the demands of his chaotic life.

Note: The great Gatsby love quotes got me writing nanami

w.c: 1,400

Nanami Kento had always carried a weight behind his calm exterior. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures or loud proclamations, and yet, his love for you settled into the quiet spaces where words failed and touch spoke volumes.

He stood in the doorway, watching as you moved about the kitchen. The soft clinking of dishes filled the room, and the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over your form. His hazel eyes softened as they traced your figure—every motion, every breath you took was deliberate, as if you were made for this moment, for this quiet togetherness that he cherished more than anything.

"He looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man.”

Kento’s gaze held a tenderness that was almost imperceptible to the outside world. His colleagues saw him as stoic, a man who kept his emotions locked beneath a calm surface. But here, in the stillness of your shared home, there was no need for pretense. His eyes spoke of devotion, of a quiet longing to hold onto this peace, this fragile life you had built together.

It wasn’t just admiration that stirred in his chest—it was gratitude, a deep-rooted sense that he had found something too precious, too rare for someone like him. There was comfort in your presence, like the first sip of warm tea after a long, grueling day. You were his solace in a world that demanded too much, pulling him into chaos far too often.

And yet, there was something more in the way he watched you. A need, buried beneath layers of composure. It flickered in the depths of his eyes, an unspoken desire for more time—more days like this where the world could stay far away, where he could watch you move through your life, through his life, as though you had always belonged there.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and the smallest of smiles tugged at your lips. His heart clenched, tightening under the weight of all the things he couldn’t say. There were no grand speeches, no declarations of love spilling from his lips. Instead, he walked toward you, his footsteps measured and calm. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against yours as you handed him a plate.

He didn’t need to say it. You could feel it in the way his touch lingered, in the way he stood just a fraction too close, needing the reassurance of your warmth to ground him.

You smiled at him, that soft, knowing smile, and his chest ached in a way that was both painful and sweet. You had always understood him in a way no one else could, reading the emotions that never reached the surface.

“Kento,” you murmured, your voice gentle, teasing.

“You’re staring.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile gracing his otherwise stoic face. “Am I?”

“Yes,”you replied, leaning into him, your shoulder brushing his. “But I don’t mind.”

He let out a low hum, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. In moments like this, the world felt small, manageable. There were no cursed spirits, no dangers lurking just beyond the horizon—only you and the life you had built together.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo. It grounded him, anchored him in the here and now. You leaned into him, and for a moment, he let himself believe that this could last forever. That he could protect this, protect you.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured against your hair, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a soothing gesture. “You deserve this, Kento. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he let himself believe you. In your eyes, he wasn’t the man who walked through life weighed down by responsibility and duty. He was just Kento—your Kento. The man who loved you with a quiet, steady devotion that went beyond words.

He looked at you again, the way all women want to be looked at by a man—with awe, with reverence, with a kind of love that felt too big for the small moments yet fit perfectly in the spaces between.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you found yourselves settling into the living room. The evening was still, the kind of calm that was rare and precious in the midst of his often chaotic days.

Kento had taken up his favorite armchair, a book resting in his lap. But tonight, he seemed more inclined to simply watch you, his gaze following every movement with a gentle, unspoken appreciation. You were curled up on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, lost in the pages of a novel.

The soft rustling of the blanket, the occasional sip of tea from your mug—it all created a soothing rhythm that filled the room with warmth. The light from the lamp beside you cast a soft glow, illuminating your face in a way that made every feature seem even more cherished.

Kento closed his book, his eyes lingering on you with the same depth of feeling he had shown earlier in the kitchen. He set the book aside, a rare moment of relaxation in the midst of his demanding life. Rising from his chair, he moved quietly to your side, kneeling beside you on the floor.

His hand reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and he saw the love reflected back at him in your eyes. There was no need for words, no need for elaborate gestures. Just the simple act of being close, of sharing this quiet space, was enough.

He settled next to you on the sofa, his arm slipping around your shoulders. The two of you sat together, the silence a comfortable companion. His hand traced gentle patterns on your arm, a silent affirmation of his presence and his affection.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, a reassuring backdrop to your shared tranquility. As you flipped through the pages of your book, Kento took the opportunity to study the peaceful lines of your face, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you read something particularly touching.

“I love this moment,” he murmured softly, almost to himself. “These quiet evenings with you.”

You looked up at him, your eyes warm and understanding. “I love them too. They’re perfect.”

Kento nodded, his gaze dropping to your lips, which curled into a contented smile. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc against your skin. The simple touch was full of unspoken promises of nights spent in each other’s company, finding peace in the little things.

As the stars began to twinkle outside, Kento’s thoughts wandered to the future. He imagined many more evenings like this—quiet, content, and filled with the kind of love that was built on simple moments. The world outside might be tumultuous, but in this small, serene space, he found everything he needed.

You tilted your head against his shoulder, a content sigh escaping your lips. Kento looked down at you, his heart full. The love he felt was not just a fleeting emotion but a deep, abiding certainty that, with you by his side, he could face whatever the world threw at him.

The clock struck softly in the background, signaling the close of another day. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tranquil atmosphere a testament to the comfort and stability of your life together. Kento’s hand rested against your back, his fingers lightly stroking in a steady, soothing rhythm.

In the quiet, under the soft glow of the lamp, with your warmth pressed against him, Kento knew that despite the chaos of life, he had found his peace in the gentle constancy of your love. The world outside might be unpredictable, but here, with you, he felt anchored, complete. Each moment of stillness, each shared glance, and each quiet touch was a promise of a future filled with the kind of enduring love that only deepens with time.

I blame the great Gatsby for these nanami thoughts