#WHAT TRIGGER WARNING DO I EVEN PUT ON THIS?

[veltana]

Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

[yanderes-galore]

Two different Anons wanted more Maegor, a surprise to me but who am I to deny it ;)?

Original Concept Here (Part 1)

Additional Thoughts 1

Additional Thoughts 2

Yandere! Maegor Targaryen Concept Extended Thoughts

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Violence, Pregnancy, Manipulation, Miscarriage mentioned, Isolation, Blood, Murder, Gender roles, Forced relationship.

The whole point of Maegor having other wives was because he was convinced they were the reason he couldn't have an heir.

So, when he has you, a wife who can successfully give him a babe, he doesn't care much about the other wives he has.

If you're lucky, he'll be merciful and simply neglect them.

However... Maegor may quickly tire of his other wives.

He'll find the tiniest little slip up with them just to have an excuse to take their heads.

He's a cruel king, after all.

You're the only wife he wants if you can give him proper heirs... not misshapen miscarriages.

Many doubt Maegor loved any other wife than you.

After all, you finally gave the dragon what he wanted.

How could he not after that?

So, yes, Maegor would probably be loyal to you as his wife.

When you get pregnant and eventually give him an heir, he knows he has a chance with you.

Maegor would take either gender of babe, although if you had a daughter... He'd probably try again for a son now that he knows you're capable of carrying his heirs.

Which is another exhausting process as you'll no doubt have a few other issues along the way.

Honestly, the process of getting rid of his other wives wouldn't happen until after your successful babe.

Then it's proven you're the one for him...

Anyone else's blood can stain his blade for all he cares...

Which is terrifying if you were close go any of the other wives.

As I said in my previous concept, Maegor is overprotective of his wife.

He expects you to lean into your gender role.

Which for him includes following him around, attending to his needs, and waiting for him in your shared chambers.

While he is known as cruel, he tones it down with you since you are his successful wife.

When you're pregnant, he keeps you secure against him in your shared chambers.

He caresses your stomach and kisses your skin.

He's strangely affectionate with you... But he's the very same man who has slaughtered innocents, burned villages, and silenced maesters for offering advice.

Maegor only looks out for himself... and now you.

When pregnant, you're often instructed not to roam by yourself.

Maegor, when not warmongering, is by your side.

Many servants and guards stay out of his way as he escorts you through the halls.

You're only given the best food and comfort, all to ensure you carry his heir to term.

It's unnerving to see him so affectionate just because you can carry his children.

Part of you fears the fate that would have befallen you if you couldn't.

You're a bundle of nerves the entire pregnancy, even during birth.

However, luckily, your pregnancy is successful and you give birth to a healthy babe.

Maegor is immediately attentive when he hears of the news.

If he was busy, he finishes what he was doing quickly before coming to greet you.

If he was away from the castle, he mounts Balerion and flies back to the Red Keep.

Maegor watches sternly as your babe is handled, put into a cradle and waiting for a dragon egg to be placed to bond them to their mount.

Male or female your babe is getting a dragon, however, if your babe is male then Maegor is quick to train him when he's older.

After your birth, Maegor never leaves the bed.

Others are too nervous to tell the king he has duties for fear of some sort of horrendous death.

No, Maegor instead sits beside you and caresses your skin.

He holds you close, peppering your skin in kisses as he holds his wife close.

Afterwards he's staring at his babe in their cradle, occasionally touching the young newborn as if to figure if they're real or not.

You and your child(ren) are the only ones who see him like this.

He cares for you and his babe(s), this is the very thing he's wanted.

He knew you were special.

His special wife... a wife capable of birthing dragons.

Maegor grows more possessive of you once you're a mother.

When your babe is around one or two and given an egg... Maegor no doubt orders the execution of his previous wives.

If they didn't flee to join Jaehaerys, they were killed.

Maegor could care less for his failed wives.

All he can focus on is you and the small babe in the cradle.

Especially when his babe finally gets a dragon of their own.

... Now why would Maegor stop there, yeah?

Much to your dismay, Maegor would push the idea of more babes.

It's a dangerous game... but Maegor would want at least two heirs from his beloved wife.

A son first and foremost... yet he will take a daughter if that's the result of your first babe.

Maegor would be a harsh father on your children when they grow.

It's natural to him.

Yet, if you love anything in this situation, it's your children.

You could hate Maegor for treating you like a broodmare most of your marriage... But you no doubt love your babes.

You often coddle your children and try to keep Maegor under control as they grow up.

Although... There's a good chance Maegor won't... live to see your babes grow up.

For better or for worse.

No, your husband most likely dies on the Iron Throne like the stories say in canon.

Some say you did it yourself, or some other disgruntled subject did so.

Depending on the age of your children, some might even say they did it.

Unless they were still young babes.

Regardless, you and your children would be under the judgement of Jaehaerys I sooner or later.

Many ask for the execution of you and your children.

However, Jaehaerys is merciful.

He doesn't think you'll be much of a threat, much less your babes who most likely dislike Maegor too.

So... That's where your life would lead.

You'd raise your babes mostly yourself, but maybe Jaehaerys will have someone aid you.

Maybe Jaehaerys even helps you raise them or is at least on good terms with them to prevent them from being like their father.

Overall, it's a mostly good ending.

It's just you and your children... along with their dragons whom they have strong bonds with due to their blood

Perhaps, now no longer chained to your cruel husband...

You can be happy and focus on your babes? There's no doubt they'll be useful during King Jaehaerys I's reign, yes?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Rock, Meet Hard Place 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss makes a deal that proves less than beneficial for you.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Lloyd Hansen

Author’s Note: This is what you asked for so don’t even.

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself 💜

“His dick is out.”  

The words wake you out of your daze. You barely remember grabbing the phone, but you have it pressed to your ear as Nick snarls on the other end. You put your hand on your forehead and yawn. 

“Fowler, it’s two in the morning--” 

“I said his dick is out, harpy,” he snips. 

You sigh, “tell him to put it away.” 

“Oh, thanks, didn’t think of that,” he retorts sarcastically. 

You shake your head, “I’m sleeping. Figure it out--” 

“Harpy, I haven’t had a blink. He’s been ranting at me for hours. And his robe keeps—Goddamnit, Hansen, close it!” 

You hang up before you can hear the rest. You set your phone to do not disturb and roll back over. You sink into the white noise and another blissful reprieve from consciousness. You work hard when you’re paid to. Outside of those hours, you don’t put thought to it. 

You wake with your alarm. You have your routine; cleanse, moisturise, tone. Then a light glimmer of concealer and gloss of lip oil, a bit of mascara. Many women tend to put on too much in an effort to hide their wrinkles. You never minded the lines. 

You dress; a high-collared boucle jacket and cigarette pants. You put on your usual leather boots and tap out of your house. The heels are thick and pointed but not high.  

You have enough time to stop for coffee. You grab the seasonal flavour and head off to Fowler’s. As you do, you smirk to yourself. You almost forgot about the late-night SOS. You hope he ended up getting some sleep. Either way, he’ll be a treat. 

You claim your usual spot and enter through the gate. All seems as it should be as you head for the door. Still, you feel a sort of unease. 

As you enter the house, your toe meets an empty bottle that skitters over the floor. You close the door and look around. There’s a puddle of liquor near the stairs. It must have been some night. 

You hover your foot over the bottom step as you sense something through the doorway of the front room. Hansen’s naked ass hangs off the couch as he teeters on the edge. You blink and shake your head. You head upstairs.  

You enter your office and put your bag on the desk. Fowler’s door is open. You can hear him snoring. You near and peek inside. He’s slumped over the side of his chair, an empty glass on his desk. His shirt is unbuttoned and untucked. 

You return to your desk. You could wake him up but you’re not his mother. You sit and set to reviewing your roster. Contracts but no meetings. You made sure his schedule was mostly clear for Hansen’s visit. 

You focus on getting through your task list. Eventually, you’ll need him to wake up but you can have mercy. Let him make up for lost sleep. 

As you sip your coffee, you hear footsteps in the hall. There’s a grumble through the door as it opens from the other side. You glance over your monitor as Lloyd walks in with only a pillow to hide his pelvis. He at least has an ounce of shame. 

“Nicky--” he calls then stops himself as he sees you. “Ah, there she is, the shrew. Ready to be tamed?” 

You roll your eyes. “Good morning, Hansen. I’m afraid Fowler’s not taking walk-ins.” 

“Well, aren’t you a peach,” he tuts. “Have a sense of humour.” 

“You’re not a very funny joke.” 

“Oh, ouch,” he touches his chest as if he’s been shot. “That stingggs.” You stare at him. His brows tweak and he winces again, “now that cuts deeper.” 

“I’m afraid Fowler is not up to visitors right now. He had a late night,” you look at your monitor and click around. Those leather boots are to die for.  

You ignore the man as he lurks. “I can wake him up.” 

“I won’t stop you,” you mutter. 

“You know,” he diverts and approaches you, “I’d like you to try. I mean, you sucker punch a guy once and you think you got him figured out--” 

“You come any closer and I’ll snip it off,” you grab the scissors from the pen stand and flash the blade at him. 

He looks down as he keeps his hand around his groin. 

“Hey, if you want a peek, you just gotta say the word,” he snickers. You open and close the blades and he gulps. “No fun.” 

You keep the scissors and swivel your chair. You grab your cup with your other hand and sip. You stare at him dully. He tilts his head coyly. His eyes wander over to the screen. 

“Nice boots. You should get them. I’ll let you step on me, mistress,” he purrs. 

You angle the scissors under his hand and press the flat to his balls, “go put some pants on before you have nothing to put in them.” 

“You’re fucking spicy. I like it.” He snarls and wiggles his hips. 

You retract the scissors and stand. He puffs up his chest. Is he flexing? You put the scissors under his nose and snip the ends of his mustache. He yipes and recoils, swinging free as he feels his upper lip. 

“Woah, ho, what the fuck? You don’t mess with a man’s stache!” He roars as he reels and pats his lip frantically. “Goddamnit! You really are goddamn harpy.” He searches around and runs over to the decorative mirror by the coat rack. “Fuck. It’s uneven!” 

“Not much of a difference. Still looks awful,” you snicker and slide the scissors back in the holder. 

“What the fuck?” A grumble rolls like gravel as Fowler staggers through his office door. He buttons his shirt but one tail is longer than the other. “All this fucking noise—ah, Jesus, Hansen, I’m having nightmares about your fucking taint.” 

“Oh, but your dreaming of me, pretty boy,” Hansen winks and drags his hand from his mustache. 

Fowler growls and his chest deflates. He looks at you, “I need coffee and he needs some goddamn pants!” 

“Should I put on the assless chaps or the snakeskin?” Hansen taunts. He meets only stolid silence. “Holy balls, you two are just lively. Aren’t you? Look, we’re workin’ together. I’m tryna break the ice.” He rolls his eyes and turns to strut away, “fine, better get one last look before I put the cake away.” 

[03jyh23]

🚆⌇bandit(?)!┆jung wooyoung

badboy(?) wooyoung x fem!reader

│synopsis: the one where you miss your train and meet a charming... bandit?

│genre: romance

│trigger warnings: none?

│words: 4.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there, my lovely people! honestly, i have no idea what this is 😭. i got inspired by a song from one of the rappers in my country and just went with it. and now i'm just wondering if i should do something more with this story or just leave it be?

love, mon ♡

A cold evening breeze tousled your hair, plastering strands to your face. A heavy bag hung from your shoulder, filled with items that couldn't fit into the large suitcase standing beside you, your hand gripping its handle tightly. The thing was, you didn't make it to your transfer train. Despite your friends' warnings, you insisted you could grab a much-needed iced coffee in the 10 minutes before your train left. You were wrong.

The platform was dark, with only two solitary lamps casting a dim light. You cursed yourself under your breath, but there wasn't much you could do now. You'd already waited for an hour; you could've managed another before the next train arrived. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily—it was running out of battery. It was frustrating. You'd have to wait two hours just to take a train for a little over forty minutes to reach your hometown. But you were the only one to blame. Well, at least you had your coffee and a blueberry muffin. But it wasn’t worth it, not at all. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. You glanced at the large clock hanging from the information board, hoping the minutes would pass more quickly. Of course, they didn't.

After an frustratingly long time you finally heard the train approaching, its rumble growing louder as it neared the station. You felt a mix of relief and anticipation wash over you. Finally, you'd be on your way. As the train's headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the platform, you gathered your belongings and prepared to board, eager to put this frustrating delay behind you.

The car you boarded was empty, so you sat down at the very end, near the window. You placed your luggage in the designated area and quickly plugged in your phone to charge as much as possible for the remaining journey.

As the train pulled into the next station, the platform gradually came into view, bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights that cast long shadows across the concrete. The stark illumination revealed an almost deserted space, save for a group of eight young men clustered near the far end. Their presence immediately caught your attention, starkly contrasting the emptiness surrounding them. Each member of the group was clad entirely in black, their dark attire blending into the night behind them. As your eyes adjusted to the scene, you noticed intricate tattoos adorning their bodies and faces - some subtle, others bold and striking. Three of them were casually smoking cigarettes, the wisps of smoke curling upwards into the night air. As you observed them, one of the smokers suddenly locked eyes with you. His gaze was intense and unwavering, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Without breaking eye contact, he deliberately tossed his half-finished cigarette into a nearby bin. The action, while seemingly casual, felt loaded with meaning. Your heart plummeted, a mix of anxiety and unease settling in your stomach. The weight of his stare was palpable, even from this distance. Instinctively, you turned your head away, breaking the uncomfortable connection. Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. As the train doors hissed open, you found yourself fervently hoping that none of the group would decide to board. The thought of sharing this confined space with them filled you with a sense of apprehension that you couldn't quite shake off.

"Wooyoung-ah, just get there and get it done with, yeah?" the unexpected gentleness in the voice you’ve just heard had caught you off guard. You grabbed your phone to busy yourself with, fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it, trying to appear nonchalant.

As you glanced up from your phone, you saw one of the young men from the group stepping onto the train. His movements were fluid and graceful, belying his intimidating appearance. The tattoos on his face seemed to dance in the flickering light of the train car. "I'll be fine, Joong. See y'all next week, yeah?" the boy called out, waving to his companions just before the train doors closed with a loud beep. Your heart rate quickened as you realized he must be Wooyoung, the one addressed earlier. His hair was black, neck-length, with a fringe styled neatly—only a few strands falling onto his forehead. You noticed a bandage right above his eyebrow, the skin around it purple with bruises. He wasn't tall, but the chunky boots and large leather jacket made him appear more imposing. The tattoos adorning his face seemed to shift and dance in the dim light of the train, adding an air of mystery to his already intimidating presence. His dark eyes scanned the train car, eventually settling on you. For a moment, your gazes locked, and you felt a mix of fear and inexplicable curiosity wash over you.

Wooyoung chose a seat a few rows ahead of you, close enough that you could observe him without being too obvious. As he settled in, you couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he was shedding some of the intensity he had displayed on the platform. The train lurched forward, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the intimidating figure you'd seen on the platform with the young man now sitting quietly a few rows ahead. His presence seemed to fill the car, even in silence. Your eyes were drawn to the intricate tattoos adorning his face. The one beneath his left eye caught your attention - at first glance, it looked like the number 26, but as you studied it more closely, you realized it might be something else entirely. Your gaze drifted to his temple, where a small, delicate butterfly tattoo rested, a surprising contrast to his otherwise intimidating appearance. You tried to read the lettering above his eyebrow when he caught your eyes again. You raised your eyebrows and looked away, feeling a shudder run through your body. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place. Your heart raced as you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, all too aware of his presence just a few rows ahead.

The train's rhythmic movement did little to calm your nerves as you found yourself stealing quick glances at Wooyoung again, hoping he wouldn't notice. The tattoo above his eyebrow remained a mystery, its meaning just out of reach.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence, startling you out of your thoughts. "You know, it's not polite to stare," he said, his tone filled with amusement. His eyes met yours again, this time with a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, caught red-handed in your observation. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected address.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, turning to face you more directly. "Curious about the ink?" he asked, gesturing to the tattoos on his face. "Most people are. They either can't look away or can't bear to look at all." His words carried a weight that suggested he was used to both reactions. You felt your words frozen in your throat, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze and the unexpected interaction left you speechless. You simply averted your eyes, focusing intently on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You heard him chuckling softly, a sound that was both melodious and slightly unnerving. "Not much of a talker, huh?" he mused, his eyes still fixed on you. You dared to look up again, the warmth in his expression caught you off guard, softening his intimidating appearance. It was a stark contrast to the intense gaze you had encountered earlier. For a moment, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. "Are you afraid of me?" Wooyoung asked, sensing your hesitation. His voice was softer than you expected. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications.

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. The initial fear you felt was still there, but it had been tempered by curiosity and the unexpected warmth in his smile. "I... I'm not sure," you admitted honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's fair," he said, his voice sultry. "But I promise, I'm much more... fun than I look." He winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Want to find out just how deceiving appearances can be?" His gaze locked with yours, intense and inviting, daring you to look beyond his intimidating exterior.

You blinked continuously, taken aback by his bold proposition. "E-excuse me?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. The sudden shift in the conversation left you flustered, unsure of how to respond to unexpected flirtation.

Wooyoung rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he approached, you found yourself captivated by his presence. He stood before you, and for the first time, you truly noticed the intricate details of his face. His nose and lip piercings glinted in the dim light of the train car, adding to his allure. You were struck by how handsome he was up close, his features a perfect blend of sharp angles and soft curves. Looking up at him, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wooyoung's eyes met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "May I?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he gestured towards the seat next to you. The question hung in the air, loaded with possibilities. Your heart raced as you considered your options. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze made you feel both thrilled and uneasy. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded slightly, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. As he settled into the seat beside you, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting, you couldn't help but wonder what you were getting yourself into.

"My name's Wooyoung," he says, his eyes roaming your features. "And I'd hate to scare off such a beautiful girl, so answer me... are you really afraid of me? Or is it just my killer looks that's got your tongue?" You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck as Wooyoung's words washed over you. His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of leather and something distinctly masculine filling your senses. You struggled to find your voice, caught between the intimidating aura he exuded and the undeniable attraction you felt.

"I... I'm not afraid," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... surprised." You met his gaze, finding yourself drawn into the depth of his dark eyes.

Wooyoung's pierced lips curved into a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprised? By what? My charming personality or my devilishly good looks?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe a bit of both," you admitted, surprising yourself with your boldness.

His smirk widened into a genuine smile, transforming his face. "I like your honesty," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, beautiful, since we've established you're not afraid of me, how about we make this train ride a little more... interesting?" You crossed your arms and leaned back against the window, trying to put some distance between yourself and Wooyoung. His sudden closeness and bold proposition had caught you off guard, and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts.

"Are you going to shout 'A bandit! Help!' and run away now?" he joked, but you couldn't quite shake off the feeling he'd been in this situation before. Despite his joking tone, there was an undercurrent of familiarity in his words. Gathering your courage, you decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Do people usually call you a bandit?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

Wooyoung's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps surprise or appreciation—crossing his features. He leaned back, creating a bit more space between you, and let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, straight to the point, aren't you?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and something more serious. "Let's just say I've heard it enough times to make jokes about it. But appearances can be deceiving, you know?" His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability there that contradicted his tough exterior. "What do you think? Am I living up to the 'thug' stereotype?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his eyes directly. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both nervous and intrigued. "Honestly?" you asked with hesitation, weighing your next words carefully.

"No, please lie to me!" Wooyoung joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of chewing gum. With a swift motion, he popped one into his mouth, the minty scent wafting between you. You couldn't help but smile at his playful response, feeling some of the tension dissipate. The casual act of chewing gum somehow made him seem more approachable, and less intimidating than before.

Taking another deep breath, you decided to answer honestly. "At first glance, maybe. The tattoos, the piercings, the whole vibe... it's intimidating," you admitted, watching his reaction carefully. "But talking to you now? You seem more... complex than that. There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" You surprised yourself with your boldness, but something about Wooyoung made you want to dig deeper, to understand the person behind the intimidating facade.

Wooyoung smirked, raising one of his eyebrows as he popped a bubble with the gum. "Are you a psychiatrist in the making?" he teased. You wanted to brush off his little comment, but he didn't give you time to answer. "'I'm no bandit, first I've heard of it,'" he said, putting his hands up as if he were surrendering. "You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to say that." His words carried a hint of frustration beneath the playful tone, and you found yourself wondering about the experiences that led him to make such a statement. Wooyoung leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "the ladies think I kill, but at home, I walk in pink slippers." He paused, letting the image sink in before continuing, "And all the grannies yell when I step out on the street." His gaze locked with yours, a mix of amusement and challenge in his expression. You couldn't help but laugh at the contrast he painted. The image of this intimidating figure in pink slippers was both absurd and oddly endearing.

"What else do you do at home?" you tease, finally relaxing into your seat, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Isn't that a very personal question?" he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful expression. "Well, you did invite me to make this train ride more interesting," you countered, your confidence growing with each exchange. "Besides, I'm curious about the man behind the tattoos and pink slippers." Your eyes met his, a silent challenge in your gaze, daring him to reveal more about himself.

"As for the tattoos, I just fucking like them, that's all," Wooyoung said with a shrug. His nonchalant attitude towards his tattoos made you wonder about the stories behind each one.

You found yourself drawn to the intricate designs adorning his skin, each one likely holding a unique significance. "Do any of them have special meanings?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Wooyoung's eyes lit up at your question, a mix of surprise and appreciation crossing his features.

"I'll save the answer to that for a second date," Wooyoung said with a wink. He nonchalantly popped another gum balloon before spitting it into the small trash bin.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of intrigue and amusement at his flirtatious response. "A second date? Aren't we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?" you teased back, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. The easy banter between you two was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Wooyoung leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Well, I consider this our first date, ever since you agreed for me to sit here," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The boldness of his statement caught you off guard, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Oh really?" you replied, trying to match his confidence. "And here I thought first dates usually involved dinner or a movie, not a chance encounter on a train."

Wooyoung's grin widened, "Who says we can't be unconventional?" he countered, his gaze never leaving yours. "But if you want all of that," he continued, his voice taking on a playful, almost challenging tone, "then it's my pleasure to take you on such a... boring date without anything extraordinary to it." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in slightly closer. "Though I have to warn you, even my idea of 'ordinary' might surprise you."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Who says I'd even agree to go out with you in the first place?" you challenged, your tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You're making quite a few assumptions there, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting your response. He leaned back, a mix of surprise and admiration crossing his features. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. "Touché," he said, his voice tinged with respect. "I guess I got a bit ahead of myself there. My apologies." He paused, his gaze softening. "But can you blame a guy for trying? You're not exactly easy to resist."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, but you maintained your composure. "Flattery will get you nowhere," you said, though you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "But I appreciate the apology. Maybe we should start with getting to know each other a bit better before planning any dates, hmm?"

Wooyoung's eyes lit up with amusement at your suggestion. "Why waste time if we can get to know each other on the date?" he countered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "After all, isn't that what dates are for?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. "You don't even know my name," you pointed out, shaking your head in amusement at his bold flirtation.

Wooyoung's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I don't need that to know you're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words, caught between flattery and disbelief at his audacity. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but be charmed by his confidence and smooth talking.

You decided to play along with his flirtatious banter, feeling a mix of amusement and excitement. With a coy smile, you leaned in slightly and said, "I hope my beauty isn't too distracting. We wouldn't want you to miss your stop, would we?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. "Oh, darling," he drawled, his voice low and rich, "I'd gladly miss a hundred stops if it meant spending more time with you."

You couldn't help but giggle, turning your face away in embarrassment, not able to continue with the banter. You felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the intensity of Wooyoung's flirtation. As you turned back to face him, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed at odds with his bold exterior. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be caught in his gaze, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. As the silence stretched between you, you noticed how Wooyoung started playing with his lip ring, his fingers absently toying with the small metal hoop. His eyes, which had been locked with yours, briefly dropped to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakable, sending a small thrill through you. You found yourself wondering how that lip ring would feel against your own lips, the thought was both thrilling and intimidating. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards Wooyoung, his bold confidence and mysterious aura drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering on the silver ring that adorned them. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the cool metal against your skin. Catching yourself, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. But the image remained, tantalizing and forbidden, at the edges of your mind. You tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, a silent acknowledgment of your growing desire.

Wooyoung's whispered words sent a shiver down your spine. "If there's something you want to do, you should act upon it," he murmured, leaning in closer. His head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. You felt a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing as the space between you diminished. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and you found yourself drawn to his lips, that tantalizing lip ring catching the dim light of the train. Time seemed to slow as you hovered on the precipice of decision. Should you give in to the desire that had been building since this chance encounter began? Or was this moving too fast, too soon?

Wooyoung smiled lightly, his face so close you could feel his breath on your skin. The proximity made the lump in your throat grow, your heart racing with anticipation. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper as he asked, "Is it alright for me to touch you?" The question hung in the air between you, charged with tension and unspoken desire. You found yourself at a crossroads, torn between the thrill of the moment and the rational part of your mind reminding you that you'd just met. Your body seemed to lean towards him of its own accord, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. But it wasn't enough for Wooyoung. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he whispered, "I need to hear you actually say it." His voice was low, almost husky, sending a shiver down your spine. The anticipation hung thick in the air between you, every second stretching out like an eternity.

You swallowed hard, finding your voice. "Yes," you breathed, barely audible even in the quiet of the train car. "You can touch me." The words left your lips, a mix of nervousness and excitement coloring your tone. Wooyoung's eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in even closer. Wooyoung's hand moved to your jaw, his touch gentle yet electrifying. His fingers caressed your cheek, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his thumb over your lower lip, the sensation causing you to tremble involuntarily. Your breath hitched, caught between anticipation and nervousness as you felt the intensity of his touch and gaze.

You closed your eyes, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your heart raced as you whispered, "You can kiss me now." The words hung in the air, charged with anticipation. You waited, breath held, for him to make his move. Wooyoung's breath hitched audibly, a soft exhale that you felt against your skin. There was a moment of stillness, the world seeming to pause around you. Then, with agonizing slowness, you felt him lean in. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light at first, testing. The cool metal of his lip ring sent a jolt through you, contrasting with the warmth of his mouth.

As if emboldened by your response, Wooyoung deepened the kiss. His hand cupped your face more firmly, fingers tangling in your hair. The kiss was a perfect blend of gentle and passionate, leaving you breathless. You could taste the hint of his earlier gum, with a hint of cigarettes. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, all thoughts of the train and your surroundings fading away.

Suddenly, a jolt from the train brought you both back to reality. You pulled away slightly, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in short gasps. Wooyoung's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed at you, a small smile playing on his lips. The moment hung between you, charged with the thrill of newfound connection.

You looked out the window, suddenly realizing with a jolt that you recognized the station passing by. "It's my stop!" you shouted, jumping to your feet in a panic. You quickly unplugged your phone, then grabbed your suitcase and bag, heart racing as you rushed towards the doors.

Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by your sudden movement. "Wait—" he started to say, but you were already halfway down the aisle.

As you reached the doors, you turned back briefly, catching a glimpse of Wooyoung's bewildered expression. A mix of regret and excitement coursed through you as the train began to slow. The doors opened with a hiss, and you stepped out onto the platform, your mind reeling from the whirlwind encounter you'd just experienced. You stood there, catching your breath as the train doors closed behind you. Your heart was still racing, not just from the rush to exit, but from the intense encounter you'd just experienced. As you watched the train pull away, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever see Wooyoung again, or if this magical moment would remain just that—a fleeting connection in the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[grapejollyrancher]

Noise Complaints (Pt. 1 (?))

Logan Howlett x Reader

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem! AFAB! Reader

Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, dry humping, slight dacryphilia (only if you squint), desperate!logan, pet names, no use of y/n, knife use (not sexual, not knifeplay)

a/n: yall pls go easy on me this is my first time ever publishing a fanfic :O. if there are any errors or if i forgot to mention any warnings or triggers please LMK! constructive criticism is heavily encouraged as i mentioned this is my first fic. ALSO so sorry i am legit incapable of writing sexual tension/ buildup forgive me! Hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think :) (p.s. i have a part two drafted if anyone is interested i can edit it and post soon!)

It was a boring day at the X-Mansion…

You pass through the living room on the way to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Your eyes glance around the room and see Logan sitting on one of the armchairs with a cigar in his hand. Some random show is playing on the TV but you can tell he isn’t paying attention; his mind is somewhere else.

“Hey lo! Whatcha up to?”

He’s lost in thought, but his head snaps up when hears you. He looks up at you and gives you small smile, taking a drag from his cigar before responding.

“Just thinkin'. Nothin' important, Darlin'. What're you up to?”

You move across the room towards the entrance of the kitchen and point, your cheeks turning pink at his petname for you.

“Gonna make something to eat. You hungry?” You ask.

He stays silent for a moment, thinking about it, before nodding.

“Yeah, I could eat. What're you making?”

“Probably just a sandwich,” You shrug, “Nothin’ crazy”

He chuckles as he stands up and stretches a little, his shirt riding up slightly to show a sliver of his tanned stomach. He stubs out his cigar before nodding. Your eyes are glued to the small piece of tanned skin showing before his words snap your attention back to your task.

“Sure thing, Darlin'. Lead the way.”

You walk into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind you. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of you. You turn to him,

“Okay ill grab the stuff from the pantry if you wanna grab the stuff from the fridge?” He nods.

“Yeah, sure thing, Darlin’.”

He turns to the fridge and you turn towards the cabinets, searching for what you need when you notice the bread is on a high shelf out of reach

“Who the fuck put the bread up there?” You mutter under your breath and turn to ask Logan for help, leaning your back against the counter

.

“Hey Lo? Help a girl out, would you?” You ask with a fake pout making grabby hands at the bread that’s out of reach. He chuckles as you made grabby hands at it and strain to try to reach the shelf. He closes the fridge and walks over to you.

“Sure thing, Darlin'.”

Your breath hitches as you feel him pressed against you, caging you in against the counter with one of his hands resting on the counter near your hip. Looking up at him as he hands you the bread, you realize just how much taller he is than you, how much bigger.

“T-thanks, Lo,” you stutter. He smirks as he watches you flush, his eyes tracing every part of you.

“No problem, Darlin'.” He leans down so he was right next to your ear, his voice lowering as he spoke.

“You’re just a little too small, huh?” He teases. You playfully smack his arm and roll your eyes at his teasing words, blushing slightly.

“It’s not my fault I’m not freakishly tall like you,” you tease back.

“I think it’s cute,” he smirks as he leans even closer, his body pressed right against yours, your faces only inches apart. “Perfect jus’ the way ya are, Princess'.”

You feel your face getting even redder at his compliments. Your breath gets caught in your chest as he leans impossibly closer, embarrassed knowing he can probably hear your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Thanks, Logan.” You say averting your eyes and turning your back to him, trying to focus on what you were doing before.

You hear him chuckle softly behind you at your embarrassment. He pushes off the counter to lean back against the island a few steps away from you. You take in a shuddering breath now that he was no longer pressed up against you, trying to focus on the sandwich-in-progress on the counter in front of you. You glance back to where he’s leaning against the counter. He watches you carefully as you make your sandwich, his eyes never leaving you. He shifts his weight against the counter with his arms crossed, his muscles flexing slightly as he moves. Your eyes involuntarily widen at the sight of his arms bulging. You quickly turn back around, trying to force down the thoughts running through your mind at the sight.

Your hands shake a bit with nervousness as you try to steady your thoughts. The idea of him pressed up against you again flashes through your head and you gasp lightly. The knife in your hand clatters to the floor.

“Shit!” You yelp. You bend down to pick up the knife, still trying to steady your breathing. He immediately looks down as the knife drops to the floor, his gaze trained on you as you bent over to pick it up. He instantly tenses, his face becoming flushed almost instantly at the sight in front of him. He steps up closer behind you, his body almost completely pressed up against yours again. His voice is low as he speaks.

“Careful, hon. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.” You jump slightly at the sound of his deep voice, realizing just how close to you he was again. You straighten back up and toss the knife into the sink, giving up on making your sandwich.

“Im okay!”

He was still standing right behind you, his body pressed right up against yours. he leans down towards your ear and speaks in a low, gruff voice,

“Yer makin' me think naughty thoughts with you bendin’ over like that, Darlin’.” You suck in a breath at his words. His intoxicating scent surrounds you and you feel the stubble on his chin run against the sensitive skin of your neck

“O-oh.” You stutter, “what kind of naughty thoughts?” He smirks as you stutter at his words, his hand slowly running up the side of your hip. His hot breath ghosts across the skin of your neck and shoulder, giving you chills.

“Oh, just the things I want to do to you, Darlin'...” You whimper at his grip on your hips and his breath against your neck, leaving you breathless and wanting him. You feel his hard bulge press against your ass and moan softly at the contact

“Logan, I--“ you pant, “didn’t think you liked me like that.” He chuckles at your reaction and places a gentle kiss on the underside of your jaw, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he presses his body even tighter against yours. He hums softly,

“I've been wantin' ya for a while now, Darlin'. You’ve been drivin' me crazy since I first met ya,”

You sigh as he kisses your jaw and neck, moaning as you feel his sculpted chest and abs against your back and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Fuck Logan- I want you,” You say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

Hearing you moan like that sends a shiver down his spine. He growls softly and pushes his hips against you a bit, his body yearning for you.

“Mm, is that so, princess? Sounds like someone's getting excited...” He trails off as he continues his kisses down your jawline and your neck, the stubble of his chin scratching deliciously across your sensitive skin.

You turn around in his grasp and wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You came onto me Lo… don’t blame me for getting all hot and bothered at you pressing up against me like that” He chuckles at your comment, his own arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly against him. He hums at the feel of your fingers in his hair and tilts his head back slightly.

“Can ya blame me for wanting you? You're so damn sexy like this...” His mouth goes back to your neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses and occasionally a few hickies down your throat. You throw your head back and tug at the locks of his hair between your fingers. You groan as you feel his hands slip up under your shirt and squeeze your hips.

“F-fuck-“ you sigh. Hearing you moan and sigh at his touch sends waves of heat through him and he groans slightly. He continues to kiss and bite your neck, his hands moving up and downyour sides under your shirt, the calloused skin of his hands rough against your softer skin.

“Such a sweet little thing... I wonder how long you'll last...”

You whimper from his words and buck your hips to meet his. You place a hand under his chin to tilt him back towards your face, leaning in and slotting your lips against his. You gasp as you feel him slide his hands down your back to your ass and feel him squeeze. He slides them down further and grasps the back of your thighs firmly, lifting you up with ease so he can set you on the counter.

He groans against your lips as he feels you grind your hips against his. He eagerly returns the kiss, his lips moving in perfect sync with yours. Once he lifts you up onto the counter he immediately steps between your legs, parting them. His hands once again on your hips, holding you.

“Mmm,” he moans, “Darlin' you're gettin' me all worked up here...”

“Logan,” you whimper, head tilting back, hands still gripping his hair. You feel his bulge press against your clothed core. “Oh, there—"

His voice deep and gravelly in your ear, “Yeah, baby? Like this?”

He rolls his hips against you gently, his breath getting heavier in your ear. Your eyes roll back into your head in pleasure at the feeling of him rutting against you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.

“Holy shit—”

His breath hitches slightly at the sound of your soft moans. He grunts as he’s pulled closer, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“S-so damn needy... Sound so pretty for me, doll.”

You’re a moaning, whimpering mess as he thrusts against you, the feeling of his body engulfing you, driving you close to the edge. He continues to grind against you, nearly losing his mind with you being so needy against him. The thin material of your shorts leaves nothing to the imagination as the friction from the rough denim against your clit sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Logan,” you gasp. “So good—"

“Don't worry, Darlin'... “ He breathes back, “I've got you”

His hands start to slide up under your shirt, tracing his hands over your stomach and up towards your chest, kneading the soft skin with his large palms. You moan loudly against his shoulder, biting down to try to muffle the noises escaping you. You grip his shoulders with all your strength as your legs start to shake against him. His hands pinch and pull at your nipples and you throw your head back and a throaty groan escapes your lips at the euphoric sensation

“Logan—shit!” you whimper, “Don’t stop—” You say as he starts to slow his movements, like he was going to pull away. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he comes to a realization.

“Is this gonna get you baby? You’re a mess already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You blush at his words, his thrusts picking up speed again. The feeling of his clothed tip nudging your clit brings you closer and closer to your release. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your climax approaching. Tears well in the waterline of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of him pleasuring you.

“Look at me doll,” he demands. You snap your head up to look at him, surely with a fucked-out expression on your face. “Look so pretty f’me darlin’. Look at you crying from my cock, feels too good, huh?”

Your eyes roll back and you whimper at his words, “God—Yes, Lo. Getting s-so close—"

He returns his lips to your neck to press wet, hot kisses over the skin again, trailing up your jawline to nip at your earlobe.

“That’s it, baby. C’mon” he encourages you as you buck your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Lo—” You whine, “Gonna come-! Don’t stop d-don’t stop, please” you whine tearfully, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in to ground yourself.

He groans into the crook of your neck, loving the painful pleasure of your nails biting into his skin. He starts to come undone from your begging, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he could, guiding your hips to meet his quick thrusts.

“Yeah, Darlin'... Need you to come for me. Be a good girl and let go”

He continues marking up your neck for the world to see, inhaling your sweet scent that he can’t seem to get enough of. His breathing becoming heavier and more uneven as his need for you increases.

“Logan! Feels so fucking good- oh god I’m so close—"

Hearing the sounds of you falling apart in his arms pushes him over the edge, his heaving breaths uneven and his muscles tensing from the feeling of you coming undone against him.

“Mmm, yes, Darlin'... Let go baby... Come for me, princess” he moans and licks a stripe up the shell of your ear. His deliciously large hands groping your chest and pinching your stiff peaks.

The feeling of his hands on you, all over you, send you over the edge. Your orgasm lighting you up and splitting you open from top to bottom. Your eyesight goes slightly blurry from the intensity of your release. You grip his hair and pull hard to ground yourself. You pull him towards you and crash your lips to his in a heated kiss. You could feel his thrusts become faster and shorter, knowing he was close

“Fuck princess... you're drivin' me crazy... gonna make me come—" His body trembles and his hips start to lose rhythm.

“Logan—” you pant against his ear, “Want you to come for me- please baby- need to feel you.” You press your lips to his jaw and kiss down the column of his throat, winding one of your hands in his hair to tug at it. You pull away for a second to whisper against him again

“I know you’re close Lo,” you nip at his lower lip and he whines into your mouth. “Wanna feel you. C’mon baby… let go for me Logan.”

He nearly loses it when he hears your throaty voice in his ear again, his name sounding like a prayer from your lips. He could only focus on your voice and your breath against his skin as you spoke, his control slipping more with every word. He could feel the pressure building and building almost to the breaking point, his body quivering with need and his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force.

“F-fuck Logan… so fucking good baby. Need you to come. Get it lo, come for me”

He groans loudly against your skin, barely able to think or speak as his climax rapidly approaches, all he could say was your name.

“Fuck—oh, fuck—I’m coming doll—shit!”

With one more desperate moan against your skin and a final roll of his hips against you, he completely unravels, his mind lost in a haze of lust from you. He groans your name in a low, gruff voice as he rides out his orgasm.

“So good baby… so fucking good for me Lo,” You scratch your nails against his scalp lightly to ground him, his clothed cock still throbbing against your core

Your words and the feel of your nails against his skin was the only thing he could focus on as he tried to regain his breathing and composure.

“Ah... mmm... Darlin'... You'll be the death of me...” He pants against your neck, pressing light kisses on your shoulder.

“Big words comin’ from a man who can’t die” You smirk at him teasingly. He chuckles softly at your words, taking a few more deep breaths to try to calm himself down

“Heh, Darlin', you know what I mean... You drive me crazy, gonna kill me one of these days...” he breathes.You lean into the weight of his against your neck, turning your head to place a gentle kiss against his, sliding your hands up and down his shoulders soothingly.

“I sure hope not,” You tease, “I’m gonna need you to stick around for a while now that I know what you’re capable of.” He hums softly as your hands slide across his shoulders gently gripping your hips with his hands, fingers tracing small patterns on your skin.

”Mmm, don’t you worry, Darlin'. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” You sigh against his hair, “Let’s go get cleaned up honey.” You hop down from the counter as he releases your hips. You stumble slightly, legs shaky from the aftermath of your intense orgasm, and you wrap a hand around his bicep for stability.

He chuckles at your lack of balance and shaky legs, a sense of pride and satisfaction surging through his chest. He wraps his arms around you and steadies you against him.

“Easy there, princess. Looks like I did a number on ya, huh?” He gives you a cocky smirk as he holds you close against his chest. You look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Is that all you got, Howlett?” Before he can react, you sprint out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He was caught off guard at first, his eyes widening in surprise as he watches you flee from him. He takes a moment to react, then smiles and lets out a huff in response. He could hear you laughing and the grin on his face only grew.

“Darlin'... you're playin’ a dangerous game with me right now,” He calls after you. You started giggling madly as you hear his heavy footsteps start behind you. He lets out a low chuckle as he chases after you up the stairs, slowly gaining on you as his legs were much longer than yours. You giggle and squeal as you feel his strong, muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you from the ground.

“Logan!” You shriek, as he lifts you higher to put one arm around your back and the other behind your legs, carrying you bridal style, holding you close against his solid chest.

“Heh, I gotcha now darlin’.” He ducks down to whisper huskily in your ear.

And have you he did.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 1

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,235ish

Summary: You discover your mutation. You get recruited for a team.

Warnings: death, gun shots, fire, homelessness, nakedness

Notes: Surprise! I couldn't wait until Saturday. Besides, this is more of a prologue chapter than anything. Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don't ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! Also, help me decide the endings!

It was snowing, but that didn’t matter. Your insides were burning up to the point that you couldn’t stop sweating, soaking through your clothes. There was practically a puddle of sweat beneath you as you pushed yourself further into the corner of your closet.

Your parents were downstairs, having a screaming match. It was their fifth one today. They had been too occupied with their own drama to even notice what was going on with you. A tremor had started in your hands as your fingertips began faintly glowing orange. You placed your hand against the wooden door as you heard the fighting die down. The silence was eery and before you knew it, a gun was going off. You rushed down the stairs, failing to notice the trail of fire being left behind.

Your father was standing above your mother, gun still pointed at her. Your mother was lying on the ground with a bullet in her forehead.

“Go back upstairs, Y/N,” your father demanded, not sparing you a single glance.

“What did you do?” You frantically cried.

“What she had coming,” your father responded. “She wasn’t like us, Y/N. She was— is that smoke?” Your father looked over to see the stairs in flames. “We’ve got to get out of here.” When your father grabbed your arm, only to quickly let it go when his skin burned. “You… You did this!” He pointed the gun at you. “You’re a monster just like her!”

“I— I’m sorry, Dad! I don’t know what’s happening!”

“I do, monster.”

Your father pulled the trigger and your arm came up to try to protect you. Fire shot out of your hand, landing on your father. He screamed out as the fire quickly spread over him. You cried as you watched your father stumble back into the fire engulfing the stairs. 

Yells and screams began cutting through the growing flames as the neighbors gathered outside. Realizing how this could look, you hurried out the back and continued running. What had you done?

~~~

It didn’t take you long to figure out that you had powers of some kind in the form of fire. Now living on the streets, you used your power to keep alive. You discovered your second ability when another homeless person went after you with a knife, cutting your arm. It healed, simply leaving a scar, after a few hours. It was 1965 and you had just turned 35 when you realized that you had stopped aging years ago. This forced you to move around more to keep from being caught.

Coming back from a heist with your bag full, you entered the alley that you were currently calling home. With a slight twitch of your fingers, you lit the trash in the nearby barrel to warm up the alley and provide some light.

“Some power you got there.”

You jumped at the voice, immediately forming flames in your hands. A man stepped out of the shadows, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Who are you?” You asked.

“Major William Stryker and you are Y/N L/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve been following you for quite some time.” He sat on a cart next to the barrel. “Tell me, did you mean to start that fire? Or was it a product of what happened to your mother?”

You grit your teeth. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I know things. Like what you are.”

“And?”

“You’re a mutant and someone special. I would like you to come with me. You’ll get training in your abilities and other skills. We could use you on the team I’m putting together.” He could tell you were considering it. “I know that you’ve been on your own and homeless for far too long. You would never have to worry about food, clothes, or a bed again. Not if you’re with me.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to come and see.”

You thought about it. This could be your chance to do something more. To learn about your powers and grow them in ways you didn’t think possible. The promise of the basic necessities was also night.

But there was also a chance that the man in front of you was trying to trick you. Taking a breath, you made a decision.

“I’ll go with you.”

~~~

Though the training was hard and the tests they constantly ran on your powers were draining, you never complained. Stryker had held up his end of the promise, providing you with food, clothes, and a place to sleep. He kept talking about his dreams for the team he was putting together and other mutants soon joined.

First, there was Fred Dukes, who possessed super strength and invulnerability. Next, John Wraith, a teleporter, and Chris Bradley or Bolt, who could control electricity. Agent Zero was next as an expert marksman with Wade Wilson, a swordsman who could never shut up, quickly following.

The six of you made an odd bunch and went out on regular missions for Stryker. You never fully understood what the point of these missions where, but you went on them anyway.

“Wade, I will melt those blades if you poke me one more time.”

The team had a day off, meaning that you were stuck in Stryker’s facility for the team until you were needed. The others had decided to plan a game of poker while you decided to read, with Wade choosing to annoy you.

“Where does the fire live?” Wade asked. “Like, is there an ember constantly lit inside of you? And why isn’t your skin hot?”

“Wade…”

“I’m just curious!” He threw his hands up. “Like how does the fire work? Do you— Hey!” Wade’s clothes burned off of him, leaving him naked. “If you wanted to fuck, you could have just asked.”

“Ew,” you cringed, moving away from him.

“Wilson!” John shouted. “Get some clothes on!”

“Why? You jealous?” Wade retorted with a smirk. He stood up and walked over to where the others were sitting. “Take a good look, boys. Take a look and wish you had this body.”

“Wilson!” Stryker exclaimed as he entered the room, with two other men trailing behind him. “Get your clothes on! We have new recruits.”

“Yes, sir,” Wade mock saluted before walking off.

You peeked over your book to get a look at them. Both of the men were muscular and clearly had their walls up. The one with shorter hair seemed more menacing than the man next to him. The man next to him caught your attention more. More emotions were swirling in his eyes. His hair was long, dark, and thick with mutton chops covering his cheeks.

“Sorry, gentlemen,” Stryker apologized. “That was Wade Wilson.” You stood up as Stryker introduced the other members of the team before ending with you. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“A woman is on this team?” The menacing one scoffed. “No wonder you brought us in.”

“Don’t doubt, Y/N. Her ability to control fire can do more damage than your claws.”

“And you two are?” You questioned, getting annoyed again.

“This is my brother Victor Creed,” the other man introduced. He held out his hand to you. “I’m James. James Logan Howlett.”

You shook his hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, James. Welcome to the team.”

next chapter >

[lotuseye]

and you look even more handsome...

satoru  gojo  and  his  special  grade  sorcerer  ex-wife  are  assigned  to  a  mission  together. part iii , trash magic.

word   count:   2779.

genre:   multi-chapter.

characters:   satoru gojo & special grade sorcerer ex wife.

trigger   warning:   none. kinda angst? as adele says: ' divorce babes, divorce! ' also kinda suggestive but lord help y'all with the next and the final chapter. a lot of yearning.

the car ride is uncomfortably silent.

it’s all familiar and all so different at the same time. the last time they had shared a car was three years ago, right after their last christmas together, before the court, before everything. she remembers him with his large hand on her thigh, soft knuckles kneading the plush flesh idly as he sang alongside to whatever that was going on the radio. his hair was shorter, and instead of the black blindfold that kept his six eyes at bay he wore the sunglasses she had stolen from time to time to try on, marvel every single time at how it was impossible to see anything at all. they were twenty-four, back then. it seemed like a lifetime ago, the memories feeling more of glimpses of a beautiful dream she once had, still craving the bittersweet taste that cursed her mouth eternally.

“ so… ” satoru, as restless as ever, taps his fingers on the steering wheel. he doesn’t drive often, rarely ever did - it was not stimulating enough for him, having grown tired of having to be glued to a seat and watch the same roads over and over again, he usually left that part to ijichi when the car was necessary. she knows why he jumped on the opportunity now, knows why he is driving at a speed that would put turtles to shame, using the slowest lane. frustrated, she sighs, keeping her gaze on the window, watching the orange rays & the setting sun. it is not the slowness that irritates her, it is how satoru simply never fucking learns, no better than a child who wants to roll on the greener side of the grass without the responsibility of tending to it whatsoever. “ what’s up? ”

the arch of her brow and the squint of her left eye is just as telling as any answer. “ what’s up? ” she repeats. “ dunno’, sweetheart. you tell me. you’re the one going on a 50 on an empty freeway. ”

“ is that a crime? ” satoru’s expression remains undecipherable, using the advantages of blindfold that covers near the good half of his face, but the subtle twitch of the corner of his mouth gives him away - he had never been good at concealment anyway, his heart on his sleeve, an outpour that would not be outdone by anything as humane as shame or embarrassment. he had not been shy a day in his life, and she often wishes that untrue, often wishes satoru would do her the grace of sparing her heart - his openness tore her open inside out, and she hated the sensation of being so naked. so bare. stripped to the core of her existence, something beyond the rare talents at the tips of her fingers. “ maybe i just missed you. ” he confesses, and it sounds like a death sentence. he glances over, and she feels the weight of the six eyes on her, suffocating. “ would that be so bad? ”

yes, yes it would be that bad. “ eyes on the road. ” she grunts, arms folded in her chest, so reserved it is difficult to remember that they had been sharing laughters like little children at tengen’s chambers an hour ago. thus was life with him, a whirlwind of emotions, a duality that dazzled her & made her nauseous with the rhythm at the same time. satoru sighs, obediently turning toward the empty freeway, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as one hand sat idle on the steering wheel. “ i just don’t understand why you’re being so dramatic, ” he confesses, more like complains, so seemingly oblivious to the reasoning of the woman that sits on his passenger seat. “ we got married, didn’t work out, we got divorced, fine, ” a mocking gesture is made, and he finds that sweet nerve in her artery. “ you don’t gotta be like that. aren’t you the one that said we could handle this like adults? ”

her left eye twitches. oh yes, now, now this whole thing feels familiar -

fighting in the car.

how nostalgic.

“ oh, you think you’re being an adult? ” here comes the poison, her voice laced with the regret of ever agreeing to get in the car and shame of thinking perhaps they could manage to be civil, perhaps even friendly - but she is proven wrong. “ is that what you’re thinking? because all i’m seeing is a child that only wants what he can’t fucking have. you don’t miss me, satoru - you miss chasing me. ” and he did, he did chase her, the way that sunflowers chased the sun, the way that the moon chased the sun, spinning in circles around her… until he had her. until the game was over. the lump in the back of her throat is truly just embarrassing at that point. it was truly sickening how the simple sight of him was enough to undo her, how he still pulled the strings of her like a puppet and its master. a twisted belonging she would never be rid of. “ you would be bored of me in a week. ”

satoru remains uncharacteristically silent. then, a sudden signal, and the four way flashers. the car is pulled into the side of the road, and she truly believes he could yank the handbreak clean off its box with the strength he pulled on it. “ wanna’ elaborate on that, baby? ” he asks, and the undercurrent of needles is simply agonizing, condescending out of rage. it’s unlike him to speak with such vigor, too contrasting to his aloof character that could not bring himself to care for anything for the love of god. at least when it came to her. “ if my memory isn’t failing me, i was the one that got served with the papers. ”

yes, yes, the poor satoru who was dumped so suddenly out of nowhere - out of nowhere except the fact that every single conversation she had ever attempted to make was brushed aside and disregarded, the nights she has slept alone, the loneliness of a household she thought she would never shed a single tear in. “ maybe if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d understand why. ” she responds, and it is so funny that this conversation is happening nearly three years after - spilling their guts out in a car that didn’t belong to them, no longer bound by a ring or a vow. “ but you can’t. you’re incapable of thinking about anyone but yourself. and i’m only mad at myself for how it took me a near decade to see that. an entire decide i could have been loved in. happy in. all fucking gone. because i was an idiot. ”

anguish contorts his beautiful features, and she gets the terrible feeling that she has said something she should not have, but the cat was out of the bag - it was easy to forget how destructive grief could be, how nasty mourning could turn out to be. chewing on the inside of her cheek, she remains silent, trying to come up with something to dissolve the tension and make them get back on the road. all that needed to be said and done were already through, they were already done. “ you don’t mean that, ” it comes out as a hoarse pleading, searching for some truth in each crevice of her face. “ you’re just pissed off. tell me you don’t mean that. ”

satoru never really wants to look, but he has to look. reaching beyond them with the familiarity of a touch that was once a privilege she had been blessed with, she finds the knot of his blindfold, and tugs it free until the silk material bunches in her palms, satoru remaining as pliant as a loyal dog, with pure disbelief in the azure gaze. her knuckles white around the fabric she bunches in her palms. “ look at me. ” she tells him, drawing a deep breath that resonates in each bone in her body. “ i have never felt as lonely as the time i was married to you in my life, do you understand that? it was unbearable. when suguru left, when you came home one day with megumi - i was there for you and you just liked that, satoru. you just liked having a shoulder to cry on. you just liked being not alone. have you ever considered how i felt? ” one hand pressing over her bosom, her palm right on top of the heart that drums against her ribs, voice unstable like the rest of her. she’s never thought she’d be saying any of this to him. “ if i needed you? if i was upset, if i was happy? i have spent the last year of that marriage thinking you would have never married me if suguru hadn’t left. ” the big bad confession. the big bad revelation. “ and you’re sitting here like i was the one that failed. ” a shaky breath, and the way she withdraws from him, from everything, shows that she had said everything she could bring herself to say in that moment. “ i’m done being scolded for an end i did not bring. you doomed us the day you kissed me. start the car. ”

she pulls herself out of the clutches of agony, having too much time to think it over and over again, in sleepless & cold nights. it’s not that easy for satoru.

“ no, ” he says, and the whisper sounds like an afterthought, a horrid dawning and an enlightenment instead of something he intends her to hear. gaze unfocused, like he is revising every single second they had together to see if it made sense, somehow. “ no, no - that’s not true, none of this is true. ” all caution and the new rules of their new game abandoned as he reaches, her pointy jaw caught in his palm to tilt her head back towards him, eyes widened with something she had never seen in them before. “ wrong, all of this - i have spent my entire life loving you, ” he chokes on it, chokes in the weight of his own emotions. “ i get it, i was a shitty husband, i failed you, i get all of that - but i can’t let you think you were a second choice or a warm body in the sheets. i won’t. i loved you, i breathed you, i lived for you. you have to know that. ”

i loved you, i breathed you, i lived for you.

she’s never really hated anyone as much as she hated him, the three years that took to mend her heart all undone with the palm that cups her jaw and the pleading love me eyes of a man that had not loved her properly a day in his life. like he was supposed to, like she wanted. she wanted his bones, his sinews, his entire bloodline to start and end with her - it only felt fair, with how much of herself she was willing to lay at his feet with the mere promise of nothing. it takes her a few blinks to realize her gaze is blurry, lips drawn into a thin line. “ why are you doing this to me? ” she asks, teetering on the edge of something she doesn’t want satoru to witness, a whole new chamber in her heart that hadn’t been opened since she left him. a closed door she had no idea what resided beyond. “ what difference does it make, when we're over? ”

he stares at her endlessly, taking in the red-rimmed eyes & the chewed out lips & the flushed red cheeks. unable to gather her courage to withstand the vulnerability of it all and the desire to win the whose dick is bigger contest, she tries to pry his hold away from herself, her bony fingers wrapped around the sinewy wrist it yank it off her jaw in futile efforts. the infinity is gone, and with the new-found silence the only thing she can hear is the heavy breathing of the man next to her. “ let me go, ” she asks him, but despite the grunting it is a plea, a near damn begging. “ let me go, satoru. you have to let me go. ” she doesn’t know if she’s still talking about his palm on her chin.

“ you think there is scenario where i ever get to be over you? ” he asks and he sounds like a dying animal more than a person, the entire conversation taking a kind of effort they could have moved mountains within’. it’s what a decade old love did to people. his hold a one of steel, bringing her closer despite her pleas. satoru was not the only one that avoided things they did not want to look at. “ you think i wake to a day where i don’t think of you, where i don’t miss you, ache for you? ” it almost comes through gritted teeth, rattling like he is holding onto the restraints. “ you can tell yourself whatever makes you feel better about leaving me, but you don’t get to look me in the eye and tell me i didn’t love you - i will love you till my dying day and i have to live with knowing you’ll never see that because you’re too goddamn stubborn. is it better this way, honey? is it better to keep lying to yourself because the truth is too heavy? ”

he’s suffocating her and there is no escape, squirming in his hold with wet cheeks & beads of tears clinging to her lashes. “ i hate you, ” she gasps out, guttural and full of resignation, no longer attempting to pry his hand away from her, instead grasping his wrist, eyes squeezed shut just to spare herself some dignity and save herself the humiliation of looking him in the face when he still pulled the strings she tried so, so hard to break.

“ i hate you, ” she repeats, and he whispers with hushing her with a soft coo, thumb collecting the droplets before they ever get to travel down her soft cheeks. “ you wish, baby. ” he murmurs, wiping her tears away and the scent of his cologne burns the back of her throat with longing. “ it’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? ” his forehead falls against hers, and the other hand of his comes to help, tucking an unruly strand behind her ear, trailing to cup the nape of her frail neck in his fingers, holding her close, and she melts on the spot, boneless as she lets him carry the weight of her head, too tired from the tension that had been pounding in her ears like a migraine.

“ i was a stupid, stupid man. ” he mumbles, nose indenting her cheek with an exhaustive sigh, warm breath mingling with hers. thumb brushes over the lip she kept biting at to tug it free from her cruel teeth, her heart skipping eight beats at once in her chest. “ to have ever sign those fucking papers, to have ever let you walk away. a moron for not treating you the way you deserved to be treated. ” and the brush of his mouth against her cheek is too subtle to be by mistake. neither is the sound that leaves her throat, half relieved and half agonized. her nails dig into his biceps through the fabric of his jacket, dizzy. “ but we all learn from our mistakes, ain’t that right, baby? ” this time, it is a blatant, outrageous kiss that he plants on her jugular. his voice is half muffled by her skin, half lost in the translation, her face easing into a dangerous kind of comfort, shedding every ounce of tension from her sharp features. “ ‘toru, ” she breathes, not being able to find the strength it would take to walk away from this, again. “ we know how this ends. ”

“ tell me you don’t want this, ” he whispers, close enough to devour her whole if he would wish so but still in the right mind enough to keep himself from indulging, to keep her begging & pleading, at the edge of something he is intentionally keeping from her. dangling the leash of her need, cruel & demanding in the same breath. “ tell me you’d walk away from me if i let you go, right now. ” he watches her, gaze heavy lidded, all his cards out on the table, a dangerous gamble. she thinks of walking out this second, pushing him away like she intended, teary eyed and hollow in the hallway.

but that’s not even an option, is it?

there is no options, there is only the proximity that unravels her and the mouth she has been forgetting the taste of. there is no decision to make: she leans forward, and kisses him the same way she hates him - with a vigor that would put animals to shame, and with devotion that could only be found in a religion.

[kibbles-bits]

any voxval fics you’d recommend?

Ah, yes, voxval fics... The one ship that finally made me cave and read explicit stuff. I am now numb to everything.

Everything.

I'll only be posting completed fics. Warnings, almost all of these are explicit. A couple also have Angel, you know, suffering.

And please mind the tags.

First off is a couple of favs that I always go back for a reread:

Corrupted Love by DoveFactory (Words: 149,495)

In a moment of blind desperation to one-up Alastor, Vox puts himself in a compromising situation that leaves him worse for wear. His state triggers something in Valentino who decides to change the nature of their relationship.

The title and summary of this is so misleading I thought it was going to be a dark fic but nope. The Vees are a bunch of goobers and Valentino always wins. I would scream about this every time it updated. I love the characterizations and their banter it almost made me forget there's sex in like every chapter. Honestly I wish there was more tags referencing the character/story stuff.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord (Words: 7,634)

Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

This one ends up being so sweet I want to die. passthevoxcord's other fic, Only a Shadow, drives me nuts but its a WIP and hasn't actually gotten to the voxval yet.

choke behind a smile by gloriousmonsters (Words: 19,881)

"I'm not scared by extreme, although I doubt I'll find it interesting. What is it?" Valentino's eyes narrow slyly over his smile. "If you aren't scared, why do you need a warning?" Vox has everything under control in his new business partnership with benefits. His emotions, his unfortunate desires, the little mind games they play. Even Valentino himself. When Val offers an invitation to a special show he's performing, Vox knows it's a dare, and knows he has to take it, show Val that he can't be scared or destabilized. He has no idea of how deep under his skin the show will get.

Everyone's so normal. I love this Valentino. There's another Valvel fic that has the same Valentino I also recommend called bad girls go backstage.

Great Expectations by MarenRose (Words: 11,280)

“It’s his goal. Those three simple words. If he could get to hear them once, could let the reality of their meaning and spoken existence occupy his mind for only a few indiscernible moments, then maybe, Vox could learn to see the appeal of this god forsaken holiday. He might even learn to ‘love’ it too.” Or: Vox hates Valentine’s Days. His prick of a ‘wife’ is just too damn hard to please.

This miiiight have been the fic that made me Lock In on voxval? I'm not sure. It's sweet. Alastor is hilarious.

biting keeps your words at bay by Subedarling (Words: 1,511)

“You can’t hit me,” Valentino says. He’s practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to—you can’t hit me!” Vox sneers, cruel and mocking and hopefully masking the way his heart is breaking apart inside his chest. “Baby, I can do whatever the hell I want.” A decade into their partnership, Vox and Valentino have their first and last physical fight.

This might be the only non-explicit fic in this list. I am all for Val being the worst just because he's Like That. But I will not say no to an implied tragic backstory. I read this one a lot and want to die. Can I draw this. I want to draw this. Oh my god I have free time I can totally draw this...

And my other recs:

Just For The Record by PeppermintWalrus (Words: 13,795)

Vox is thrilled about his new film enterprise with his business partner, ready to build a lucrative empire for the denizens of hell to experience true cinema, in the only genre their depraved minds desire. There’s just one problem that he finds out too late; Valentino has never filmed porn before. Vox decides that some... hands-on teaching, is necessary to save their production.

Yeah you read that right.

a putrid feeling that i've addressed by spoondrifts (Words: 5,162)

They weren’t a couple because Valentino was pathologically noncommittal and Vox simply knew better. He tried the whole romance thing with a certain radio demon a few decades back, and he’d learned his damn lesson. Hell just wasn’t the place for that sort of cutesy bullshit. Also, he was pretty sure that Valentino was straight up incapable of love, which was both par for the course for Vox’s friendships and amazingly convenient—things couldn’t get complicated if there was nothing to complicate in the first place. Or: Full Moon, Vox/Val edition.

Haha I love pain. I lied, this is the second non-explicit fic.

Little Miss Hellion by DoveFactory (Words: 10,657)

Hell’s worst married couple spends a day of family bonding at a beauty pageant doing whatever it takes to make sure their daughter takes home the crown, because failure is never an option for the Vees. Pilot AU where Vox and Valentino are married and Velvette is their adopted daughter.

It's more Vees than voxval but they're married so.

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose (Words: 9,161)

Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Val's attitude in this one is funny and Vox. Yeah. Vox made a mistake.

You Found Me by passthevoxcord (Words: 4,338)

Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Sobbing.

Something Less Than Dishonest by daphnerunning, Galiko (Words: 33,931)

He isn’t expecting the way Valentino walks, for some reason. Maybe it’s the extra limbs. Maybe it’s the wings. Maybe it’s the heels. Vox had skipped briefly through a few of the slut’s movies, for research, and isn’t expecting the way Valentino moves in person to feel so… Different. “…You must be my four o’clock,” he says, standing and offering a hand. Oh, shit, he’s huge. Valentino towers over him, easily would without the stripper heels. Vox is not afraid of heights.

Vox is so offensive in this it loops back around to hilarious.

Red Skies and Valentino by alternatedoom (Words: 86,050)

"Vox and I are special friends, doll. Go give him a kiss," Val says to the boy.

Angel does not have a good time. But the Voxval is nice.

before you go by xoTsundoku (Words: 4,426)

Before Alastor came into their lives, Vox and Valentino were happy. Maybe they still can be.

A Farewell to Ghosts by Accidental_Ducky (Words: 37,149)

"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes. "Hot." "Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"

The only human AU I've liked so far. Love the character interactions. Vox and Val are hilarious.

God I hope I didn't miss any. There's definitely some good WIP ones out there.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 4

Warning: alcohol, graphic description of a bipolar crash and panic attack (or, at least how I experience them). Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Stepping into the foyer, the soft darkness envelopes him. Holding the door gently, he makes a futile attempt to mitigate the screaming hinges, before giving up and just closing the damn thing.

He's tired. It feels like he's been running a marathon, and as far as the exhausted muscle in his chest is concerned, he has. It's been pounding like a god damn drum, nonstop, for hours.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you a word that was said during the ceremony. You'd consumed his senses, filled them completely. He only looked away from you once, to fumble in his pocket for the ring, otherwise he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of you. He caught your scent on the evening wind, and the spinning in his chest turned faster.

He tried to hold onto his thoughts, but they ripped from his grasp as they started to spiral. He clenched his jaw, he had to hold it together. He was the Best Man at his best friend's wedding and he had shit he was responsible for. But his mind has always been a bigger beast than he is.

Look at her.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

She's perfect.

Your kind of perfect.

This will never be you, you know.

Freak.

Unwanted.

If you were human, you'd be together already.

If you were human, you'd probably be engaged by now.

Why does she waste her time on you?

All you do is drag her down.

Chain her to the sewers when she should be living a real life.

With a real person.

Why?

Why do you do that?

Why are holding her prisoner just so you can feel better about yourself?

He couldn't hear past the rush in his ears, but he was vaguely aware that there was cheering around him. Then you'd turned to look at him, smiling like the sun, and the answer crashed over him like a violent wave.

You're a monster.

He stops just short of the sitting room, eyes closing and jaw clenching, as the memory floods him.

You'd turned to him and smiled and for one moment everything stopped. You were the only thing that existed in the universe. You *were* the universe.

That's when he hit the wall.

A sharp inhale was the only outward indication of the crash. But inside, he was screaming.

You're light streaked through his veins like fire along saltpetre. Burning away all pretense. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he needed, he would never be more than this. He could dance with you, sing with you, laugh and cry with you, but he could never ever love you.

Unacceptable.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

The guests in attendance began to disperse, while the bridal party stuck around for pictures. Through the smoke haze he could see very little, and could hear equally as well, though his body seemed to know what it was doing. He had no choice but to trust it.

His heart was pounding, and he's pretty sure at some point Casey thanked him, but his only thought by that point was to get away from everyone.

As soon as there was an opening, his body excused itself and made for the house. He was winded by the time he reached the side opposite the party, the panic attack threatening to consume him.

He put a hand on the wall, leaning against it with his head down, trying to breathe through the burning. His hand flexed and the antique wood siding of the house cracked under his fingers. He ripped his hand away, scalded.

You destroy everything you touch.

He'd stumbled backward, staring at the spiderweb cracks left behind by his fingers, a dry sob escaping him.

What hope does she have?

Eyes closed tight, he balled his hands into fists and pushed everything down. Get it together, he'd berated himself, you still have shit to do.

Three deep shuddering breaths and then he could breathe evenly. He locked the panic down tight and opened his eyes. It would hit him later, and twice as hard, but this was more important. Just a few more hours.

The reception was a blur of flashing light and discordant sound, and he avoided you for most of it. Or tried to, anyway. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape you.

Four separate times you had hunted him down and begged him to dance with you. And as the champagne flowed, and the night spun on, you became harder to avoid.

"Boo!" you said, peeking around the bar at him, grinning. Your cheeks were flushed pink from drink and dancing, and your scent wrapped around him with the night air. He tightened his jaw and tried not to breathe.

"Yoooouuuuuu've... been avoiding me," you accused, slinking around the wall, practically lying against it.

"Busy," he rumbled, starting to mix a drink for no one, and not looking at the siren calling to him.

"Oh come on, Red," you'd pouted, standing up from the wall, "The night's almost over and you haven't danced with me once." You walked over to him "Please? You've been working this whole time, come have some fun. I promise the reception won't fall apart without you." You teased, placing a hand on his forearm.

He froze the moment you touched him. He was shaking and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed was you knowing that something was wrong. you cared about him too much, and your knee-jerk would be to fix it.

His hand tightened around the high ball and Mike popped his head around the corner like a god damn superhero, "Hey, they need you for the bouquet toss."

"Okay, one sec," you replied, and he disappeared again. "Please try and have *some* fun tonight?" You squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

When you removed your hand his skin burned, and it wasn't until you were out of sight that he risked breathing again. He'd set down the glass, braced himself on the bar, and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the cracks in the glass where he'd been gripping it too hard. He drew a deep breath.

He wasn't going to make it.

Snatching the bottle and leaving the broken glass, he made for the house. He skirted the perimeter of the reception, trying to be as inconspicuous as a 6'5, 350lb, bipedal turtle dressed in a tux can be.

He heard the countdown and made the mistake of looking over as April's bouquet flew through the air. You weren't even trying, you were talking, but, as if the Gods were punishing him, it had landed in your hands anyway, and he felt his pounding heart clench.

He watched as one of the other guests came up to you and placed a very human hand on your arm, presumably asking you to dance.

It will never be you.

He turned and continued toward the house until he heard familiar clumsy footsteps coming up the hill behind him.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red? Oops!" You'd said, giggling as you nearly tripped.

Your voice pierced him like an arrow, pinning him in place. He tried to take a deep breath as quietly as he could, but you've always been too good at reading him and asked if he was okay.

You'd persisted when he tried to brush you off, and he'd come up with some excuse. The longer you stayed there with him, the faster his resolve was crumbling, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of you. This was not your problem, and there was no point in runining your night, or your friendship.

He attempted to sidestep you, and you'd brushed against his arm. Your touch seared him, and reflex caught your wrist in his hand. For the first time in hours he met your gaze.

Disgusting.

Unworthy.

Why? Why make him this way? Why give him the ability to fall in love at all if he wasn't allowed to? What kind of cruel bastard...

Your wrist flexed in his hand and you looked up at him with an expression that said, I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm here. It's a familiar look, and it brought him back to himself. You're always the one he runs to. Now he was running away.

He dropped your hand, muttering an apology and fled without another word, leaving you behind.

Heart hammering in his chest, he nearly stumbled with the force of it. He made it to the other side of the house and collapsed, a wave crashing over him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, pulling in air, and getting nothing except dizzy.

On his knees, hands pressed to the ground beneath, it felt like his shell was crushing him. He maneuvered himself to sitting on the cold slate tiles, pulling his knees up to his chest.

There were no more words inside his head, only screaming, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped his head tight, begging for it to stop. Some vague part of him was aware that he was crying, but any thoughts were swept up into the vortex inside of him.

The panic attack held him, shackled to his faults, for seventeen minutes, but it could have been a year. By the time he finally felt it begin to subside, he was exhausted and trembling.

He'd retrieved the bottle of whiskey that had rolled under the nearby bench, and, with great effort, managed to pull himself onto it. He'd held onto the bench to steady himself, before opening the bottle and drinking nearly half of it.

He remained there until his father found him.

He takes another deep breath, exhaustion seated heavy, like a stone in his chest, and rests a hand on the wall beside him. He needs sleep. He continues to make his way toward his room at the back of the house, passing by the open archway to the sitting room.

Where he finds you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag List:

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[ghostorbz]

Let's talk about the flipside

Something I actually,,, really don't wanna do!! But I will anyway. This game turned out so fucking bad its actually ridiculous. First off,, what went wrong?

For me, it was:

-The stories

-The endings

-The characterizations

-All the feet?????

Spoilers for basically the whole game, by the way. Not that you should subject yourself to this. Trigger warning for like,, everything???

Let's start off with the stories and endings

OD ending:

Jecka has a major panic attack because of her,,, "job" and Nicole and ends up over dosing. Voluntarily.

Human trafficking ending

Jecka gets put into human trafficking by the police when all she wanted was her paycheck, her manager and somewhat friend Kelly dies.

Jeffery murder ending

Nicole murders Jeffery and she forces Jecka to not call the police by threatening her.

Ari dies ending

While drunk driving Jecka crashes into Ari while she's delivering food and she dies. Ari does, not Jecka.

Nicole's suicide ending

A tie in with the first game. Nicole gets stuck in hostage friendships while Jecka is forced to date her teacher for a good grade. She goes to in school therapy for it. Her heavily abusive dad finds out and Jecka runs to Nicole's house to find her dead.

First off, what does EVERY ending have? Jecka suffering. Suffering horribly. Rather from someone/herself dying, being abused, or just straight up depression.

Let's compare these endings with some of Nicole's endings

Nicole dies, Nicole sabotages a relationship, Nicole gets people to die, Nicole causes a girl's house to get burnt down, Nicole wins a court case, Nicole gets her house back, Nicole gets valedictorian. Of course this is only a small portion out of the two games. But notice how good things happen to Nicole in some endings? In some cases the bad endings feel justified because of how Nicole treats people, but not all of them are bad. Sure, some of them aren't deserved. My point is Nicole has good things happen to her along with the bad things.

Flipside has none of that. Jecka suffers nonstop despite doing nothing in every single ending. She isn't happy in any ending. Nothing turns out for her!!! We see time and time again how Nicole gets things to work for her whether she manipulates it or not. Nicole can have happiness. But Jecka can only suffer. A teenage punching bag. This girl has done nothing wrong to deserve anything she gets put through.

Why is this??? Literally, what was the reason for this

All of the endings fucking suck. I hate all of them. But enough about that, let's move on to the characters

Characterization

Jeckas dad

On the surface he's a kind guy who donates to charity. But he consistently verbally (possibly physically?) abuses Jecka for no reason. Literally nothing can set him off. A flip of the switch type of abuser. We haven't seen Jeckas dad prior to this game, but it's evident he sucks. I'd say he's way worse than Nicole's mom, at least she is sometimes nice and tries to help out. Jeckas dad blows all his money on Emily (a teenager who went to Jeckas school), forces Jecka to get a job and verbally belittles her if she ever says anything to him. Everytime he speaks to Jecka her first response is "don't hit me." Is this supposed to be fnnuy? We see Jecka have full blown sob sessions and panic attacks because of him. If it is supposed to be fnnuy it isn't. It's just sad and scary. There is nothing comedic about the abuse Jecka goes though in these scenes.

Nicole

They did Nicole's character horribly in this. We see Nicole share compassion for Jecka, she doesn't have that at all in this. Her betrayal was the worst for me. It just,,, seemed so out of character for her to do something like that. Nicole literally sacrificed her free school hours by getting in trouble with the predatory school councilor just for Jecka to be able to smoke in peace again. Nicole cares for her, calls her cool and pretty multiple times. She spends all her time with her, and even when she dies in the first game she says "I didn't know Jecka that well, but tell her she's cool for me." The betrayal ruined her character, hell it isn't even her character!! I don't like how she threatened Jecka when Nicole was the one who killed Jeffery. Speaking of, the way she acted with him seemed weird to. She can barely stand sitting near him in the first two games, and she did,, all,,,, THAT with him??? Bullshit. I see so many people say "but Nicole is a sociopath, she doesn't care about Jecka!" Um,,, yes she does? I mean it's pretty clear she does. Jecka is the only person Nicole really cares about. They wouldn't meet in every single route if Jecka wasn't important to Nicole in some way.

Jeffery

Jeffery is weirdly obsessed with Jecka in this game. Yes, we've seen him like and do weird things but not to this extent. He has never acted like this before?? Its like they reduced his good qualities and doubled up his weird ones. Which isn't a bad problem, but it makes his behavior visibly different in flipside.

Mr. Katz

Introduced in the Re up, this game turns him into the worse person ever. Last time all he did was drugs, now he's sexually harassing Jecka and verbally abusing her if she doesn't comply. Then threatening her with her grades. Since he was a minor character at best this could just be a different side of him we haven't seen but knowing how many pedos there already are in this game I don't get why they wouldn't introduce this or foreshadow it in the first two games.

Everyone else,,,

Everyone else seems to be fine, Emily, Ari, Kelly, Kylar, and Crispin to name a few. Thing is these are all side characters, sure they can be important in a few endings but for the most part they don't play a massive role in here besides Kelly and Emily.

This game was advertised as "same comedy, different girl." But there's no comedy in this game, only torture. Maybe Nicole was right when she said life was a sick hopeless game.

Okay, lets talk about the feet.

So,,, what the fuck? What was all that about? This literally took up half of the game, not a fucking exaggeration. Was it really necessary? The devs couldn't think of anything else? They were all really dragged out, it felt like it would never end no matter how badly I wanted them to. I guess you could say this line in the first game was some sort of foreshadowing

This feels like a very poorly disguised fetish. Like blanket ghost costume type poorly disguised. In fact, all of the endings feel unnecessary. Most of these have even more twisted endings than the first two games. What's up with that? It feels like they're trying to filter their audience to people who would actually enjoy doing that type of shit to people.

No, fuck I don't wanna talk about feet.

Here's some random things I want to critic but couldn't fit anywhere.

-The jeckari scene felt weirdly out of place. I could've been cut out and nothing would've changed. It wasn't necessary. Sorry jeckari fans

-What was up with the councilor? I don't mean his voice acting (it was definitely different though, right?) But he was kind of out of character. Like, he had a whole "I'm so important and mysterious (but not actually)" vibe going on. The fuck was up with the riddle? And having a whole fucking warehouse of illegal videos? Yes he's a predatory creep but I don't think he would go that far. Also pulling out a gun and shooting Kelly and almost Jecka felt so,,, what??? He wouldn't

I swear fandoms understand characters more than the creators

-Jeffery is just randomly rich? Out of nowhere? Okay. Whatevers convenient for the plot, I get it

-Why is EVERY single man attracted to kids in this game, it's overkill. Sure people like that exist but they aren't every single person you meet

-Super short, only 3 hours of gameplay. Not worth the $15. The first two games are way better, just get those. Not like this game is worth anyones time. The first game is only $10 for an hour or 2 of gameplay. The re up is $15 for 4 hours

-Nothing felt quotable. Maybe I just haven't seen it enough to memorize half the script but there weren't any lines where I was like "oh haha that's silly to say as a reference." The first two games were filled with quotable lines. Most of flipside is either something about feet or Jecka being abused

-The "thank you" note at the end of the game was kind of immature, I don't really want a thank you for this? Ummmm,, okaaayyyyy??

-You barely even get to play, it's mainly you just watching. The first two games have you actively choosing what to do. Flipside only makes you choose maybe twice

-The whole "They're 18 now!! Look at all the fucked up things we can do to them now!!" is really showing. Stop it. It's still weird

-This game is supposed to be post-graduation, but we still see Nicole and Jecka at school, multiple times. Jecka even says they aren't even in school anymore and yet you can still go back to high school? Yea, who gives a fuck about a timeline anyway,,,

Okay, but was there anything good?

Ehh,, I don't really know. I only laughed at one scene and that's saying a whole fucking lot for a comedy game. The first two games had me dying from laughter, but every single scene in the flipside just felt upsetting. Nothing was fnnuy.

I did enjoy very few things.

-The art has heavily improved. The visuals were nice when they weren't about feet or Jecka being abused

-The hatman scene was the only thing I laughed at, I liked it

-I got pretty excited when I saw that Jecka had an MSI poster in her room. I like MSI so it was a nice little surprise to see

-I liked the tie in with the first game ending. I wish we got to see more of Jeckas reaction after Nicoles death though

-I thought the whole "if god isn't watching, who is?" thing was kinda interesting. But having me listen to a whole monologue kinda killed it for me

-Class of 09 always had super good voice acting, and this doesn't change. All of Jeckas panic attacks sound super real

Overall, would I recommend this game? Absolutely not. I wouldn't even recommend this to an already fan of the series, much less tell someone to start out with flipside. Flipside isn't worth your time or money, it isn't even worth this whole post! That's why it's over

[micamicster]

Everybody gon respect the shooter

Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar vs The Wire (2002-2008)

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 20: Truth

The truth…is uglier than you could have ever expected.

tw // vomit (spoilers too)

...happens only if he ate a meat bun prior to this

(all vomit in rain code is censored in pink glitter ✨)

based on this post I made long back

[yanderes-galore]

for rq period: yandere tmnt03 donnie concept?

I'll try my best! He isn't as fleshed out as the others in 2003... So I'll try my best ^^; Sorry if it's vague, I'm more well-versed in 2012 and Rise.

Yandere! 2003! Donatello Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Stalking, Tracking, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Cameras, Picture taking, Delusional behavior, Isolation, Drugging, Forced relationship.

Donatello is one who puts those around him before himself.

He often neglects his own needs at times just so he can care for his loved ones.

He's the smartest of the four turtles, a clever inventor and tactician.

He values education and science more than his actual ninjutsu studies at times.

He's a pacifist and isn't as physically resilient as his brothers from what I've seen.

Yet he's still a decent fighter with his quick wit and planning.

He always comes prepared, always tries to think things through...

Similar to his other iterations, he would try to plan things out in his obsession.

Things need to be perfect to make a plan work for him.

Donatello is often gentle and calm, never wanting to cause unnecessary harm.

He rarely loses his temper and I imagine this version of Donnie isn't all that... confrontational.

Not many of them are, but still....

The only time this turtle is ever violent or aggressive is when he's mutated into a large monster.

That's it.

For the most part... You being his obsession isn't that bad.

As long as you're okay with mutant turtles.

He honestly just seems like he'd be such a respectable sweetheart to you as his obsession.

Although he does seem to know... too much?

As expected, Donatello would research his obsession like they're his newest project.

As sweet as he is, he's keeping track of everything you do.

He's not possessive since he's usually against confrontation.

However... He is obsessive and protective.

Donatello knows all sorts of things about you.

He knows more than any of your closest friends, in fact, at some point he'll know more than your own family...

Or even yourself.

Donatello soaks in information like a sponge.

The moment he learns something new about you, he's noting that down like his life depends on it.

Now... Donatello would have all sorts of information about you.

He has a notebook or two dedicated to you.

He just lacks the courage and confidence to actually do anything with said info other than stutter and stare.

Donatello is socially awkward.

He's caring and attentive towards you and your well-being...

Yet struggles on how to express his overwhelming feelings towards you.

It's not like he can tell you about his notebooks...

Or why he knows all of this info....

While you're unaware, Donatello gets to work with scraping up any sort of info he can find on you.

He stalks you everywhere.

He puts trackers on your clothes, belongings, car...

This turtle has your entire routine memorized.

Donatello has to be careful when speaking with you as his obsession continues.

He may accidentally say something he shouldn't know...

Only to make you both awkwardly stare at one another before trying to change the conversation.

Donatello tries so hard to impress you.

He gets into all the things you like, he builds new inventions and gadgets just for you to look at them.

Just a warning, if you take a phone from him, you are definitely being tracked now.

Donatello just seems so socially awkward and relaxed when you speak to him.

You have no clue how unhinged he is behind the scenes.

Donatello stays up late at night to track you, research you, watch you...

But you're oblivious.

You just see him tired and think he's overworking himself again.

Being cared for by you just adds to his obsession.

Donatello no doubt sets up cameras in spots you frequent and is always recording for himself.

That and he has secret photos he took of you at night, keeping them tucked away in his room.

Donatello is infatuated with you.

It's quite obvious to him... The notebooks, footage, pictures, tracking...

His habit of leaving home to follow you....

Donatello knows he doesn't deserve you.

Why would you?

He's a mutant turtle, you're a human.

You may not view him as a monster... yet you certainly wouldn't date him.

That breaks his heart...

But part of him still wishes to believe you can.

He can't stop thinking about such a fantasy, actually...

He dreams of it... dreams of you...!

He imagines protecting you, dating you, your praise, hugs, kisses...

He just imagines what it would be like to love you.

Such a thought nearly drives him insane.

While he is normally calm and able to control himself...

Imagine if he snaps and just decides to take you away.

In his delusional mind, Donatello thinks you'll understand.

In reality you won't... You don't understand his twisted mind.

Donatello is desperate for your love.

Desperate to the point he slips something in your food or drink... just to catch you when you fall into his arms unconscious...

Then he locks you somewhere no one will look... surrounded by pictures he took and cameras watching your every move...

With ropes around your body as you lay on a makeshift bed.

It may not be much now...

But he's planned out everything!

Your new relationship (which he just forced upon you) will begin just as he's dreamed it!

Except... Donatello needs you on your best behavior first...

He knows you may be nervous about your first date together... yet he'll try to compensate!

Your first date is tied up in a sewer surrounded by pictures of you that you didn't know existed.

He's so delusional when he has you.

He doesn't understand why you're so scared.

It's just him!

You know him, right? (You thought you did.)

He's your best friend! Soon to be boyfriend, actually!

He can't wait to start.

He can't wait to hold you, touch you, kiss you, love you...

But he must be patient!

He'll take things slow for you...

You may be nervous and scared now... But don't worry...!

You'll warm up to him eventually... Then he can continue to make things perfect between you! Just like in his fantasies!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Welcome back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

“Darling,” Jonathan enters the apartment as he always does. In the days since you got there, it’s all become routine. Almost too much so. “You called? Was my phone not in service?” 

You look up from the book borrowed from the shelf in the hallway. A thriller that’s less exciting than it genre may suggest. You fold your hands over the pages. 

“I haven’t heard anything. About my suspension.” You frown, “how about you? Have they said anything?” 

“Oh, fawn, you know if I do, you will be the first to know. And as ever, I will vouch for your innocence,” he nears and strokes your cheek as he looks down at you. “Forgive me for letting my pride drive me to such rabidity. It is only that cretin that makes me this way. The way he insulted you.” 

“Hm, I know, it’s just... I feel useless. I don’t want to be living out of your hand forever.” 

“Out of my hand? Darling, it is how these things work, is it not? One day, I might require your support, eh?” He tickles along your hairline, “you should enjoy the time you have to yourself.” He looks around, eyes narrowing as he scans the apartment. “My, my, this place is tidy.” 

“I vacuumed. Lit a candle. Did the dishes,” you sit up and close the book. “I’m terribly bored. Maybe...” you stand and take the novel under your arm, “I should start looking for a new job. I don’t think they’re going to take me back. I’m not like you. I’m not important.” 

He turns on you and crosses his arms, “darling, please. Firstly, you are not permitted to speak of yourself such. I won’t have that. Secondly, am I to feel worse than I already do? I would’ve gladly taken the slap on the wrist. I said as much in my interview.” 

You swallow and look down guiltily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just... I don’t know.” 

“You should be getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. The wedding is just around the corner,” he girds. 

“Well, it’s Geri’s day. I just have to show up.” 

“And look as stunning as you always do. Have you made an appointment for your hair and makeup? That might cheer you a little,” he suggests. 

“I can’t... I can’t afford that. I can do my own,” you insist. 

“I can,” he counters. “I’ll ask around for recommendations and you’ll book something tomorrow before all the appointments are snatched up. Won’t you?” 

“If that’s what you want,” you shrug. 

His lips form a straight line and he drops his hands to his hips, “I want whatever you want, fawn, yet is seems even you do not know what that is.” He looks down with a solemn hum, “I wonder if you should even want me.” He turns away slowly. “I know you think of him still. You have such a deep heart, darling, and I shouldn’t blame you but it hurts all the same. I should be the only one.” 

“You-- you are. It’s just... It was just a crush,” you step closer. 

“Was?” He peeks over his shoulder, searching your face desperately. 

You nod, “yes. We’re together now.” 

He smiles. Just a little. He turns back to you and puts his hands on your upper arms. “I... I can’t tell you how lovely that is to hear you say. I am not so nervous anymore.” 

You flutter your lashes, “nervous? You?” 

He chuckles softly, “yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be afraid that you won’t see me as I see you? You are my world.” 

His declaration takes your breath away. You stare at him. You don’t know what to say. You like him. A lot. But you can’t lie and say you feel everything for him. That you don’t still get a pang in your chest when you think of Colin. Even if you know what you should feel, you can’t force it. 

“I’m... trying my best,” you step closer. “I... I have a surprise.” 

“A surprise?” 

“Mm, well, like I said, I’ve been bored,” you grab his wrist and gently pull his hand from his hip. “Come on.” 

“Shall I close my eyes?” He asks playfully. 

“Don’t be cheesy,” you warn. “I was googling stuff about England and I found a recipe for a dessert. Um, sticky toffee pudding? It took me a while to get it right but I think I figured it out.” You open the fridge as you pull him with you. He stops before the interior’s glow as you point to the cake pan. “For dessert.” 

“For me? You made that? All by yourself?” He asks. 

You nod proudly as your cheeks tweak. “Yeah. I love baking but my place was never big enough and I know it’s not much but I wanted to say thank you.” 

“You mean to stab me in the heart,” he accuses and you flinch in surprise. “The way you are plucking on my heartstrings, I think I might completely break, darling.” He turns you to him and smirks down at you. “How have I been so lucky to come so far across the world and find the only treasure in it?” 

You giggle. He’s so sweet it hurts your teeth. It makes you feel worse for spending all day moping. 

“I’ll make dinner. I didn’t find any cool recipes for that though,” you say. 

“My darling,” he draws you near and the fridge shuts on its own, “you are all I need in this moment.” 

💔

The artist, Marissa, helps you down from the chair. You’re dizzy from reclining for so long and the pins in your hair jab your scalp. You glance at your reflection and blanch. You look like you but... not. In a good way. In a way prettier way than usual. 

She leads you out to the counter at the front of the salon. Jonathan stands as he sees you. You thought he might busy himself elsewhere. You’re surprised he stuck around that long. 

“Wow,” his blue eyes shine as he nears, “you look splendid. Not that you aren’t always immaculately gorgeous, darling.” 

Marissa giggles from behind the till, “aw, that’s so sweet. Is this the first family event for you two?” 

You nod as you face her, Jonathan’s hand hover behind your back as it so often does. As she worked on your hair and makeup, you managed to put in a few details about the dinner but were just as happy to let her gab. 

“It is,” Jonathan answers as he pulls out his wallet. “And a wedding right after. It will certainly be exciting.” 

“And you two... are the bells ringing for you soon?” She tinkles playfully and turns the pinpad to him. 

“Mm, well, that matter should always be a surprise, shouldn’t it?” He taps his card. “Thank you very much. You’ve done a masterful job.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she preens. “I hope you have a lovely dinner.” 

You smile and let Jonathan herd you away. He opens the door ahead of you and Marissa gives another swoony ‘aw’ as her coworkers whisper. You’re overwhelmed by all the attention, yet you’ve never had anyone jealous of you. It makes you feel special, albeit a bit guilty too. 

As Jonathan drives, you fidget nervously. You look at the time on the dash and chew your fingertip. He glances over. 

“Try not to mess your makeup, darling,” he girds. 

You rip your hand away and apologise. 

“You’re nervous?” He asks. 

“A little.” 

“Shouldn’t you be happy to see your family?” He wonders. 

“Umm, yes, but it’s just... a big event. Besides, it’s Geri’s dinner. I’ll just let her have her time,” you shrug and fold your hands in your lap. 

“Of course, but it won’t be too bad, will it? I’ll be there with you. I don’t mind if you hold my hand,” he reaches over and rests his knuckles on your leg. You twine your fingers through his. “I’ll need courage myself. Three sisters. Mother, father. I am outnumbered.” 

You squeeze his hand. You feel suddenly very selfish. He’s so cool and calm, you never once thought of how he might feel about it all. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say. 

“Yes, so long as we have each other, it will be,” he agrees. 

Back at his condo, you stand in indecision before the hangers. You’re not sure which dress to choose. You opt for the deep shade of midnight blue. Since it is an evening event, that would be more appropriate than the champagne. 

You step into the dress and pull the fluttery sleeves up over your shoulders. You reach back for the zipper but can’t quite reach. You spin in your struggle and as you face the door, you find Jonathan watching you with an amused slant in his lips. 

“Need help?” He prompts. 

You nod and give a bashful smile. You hold up the lacy bodice as he strides toward you. He wears a sleek pair of checkered grey slacks and a matching jacket, with a complementary tie with geometrics lines over a pressed white shirt. He is sophisticated and sauve and you still feel like that unwanted girl in her lonely apartment. 

You turn your back to him and he grabs the tab of the zipper. As he tugs it up slowly, his thumb tickles your spine. It sends a shiver through you. You spine to face him again. 

“Fawn, how do you only get more beautiful with each breath?” He says. 

“Oh,” you blush and sway. “Me? You look... great. Handsome.” You feel all mushy saying the words out loud.  

“Now, you are going to make me melt,” he purrs as he runs his hands up your sides. “Do you think we can cancel? Perhaps show up a bit late?” He winks and squeezes your hips. “That dress is doing something to me.” 

“Jonathan,” you smack his chest lightly. “No, my mother would kill me.” 

“Oh, Eugenia is a sweetheart,” he grins. “But I am a gentleman so I will have you there on time. So, let us not linger or my worst instinct may take over.” 

You shake your head, “just need to grab some shoes. Oh, and a purse.” You hang the other dress in the closet and spin around. You had a clutch... there. “Um, did you still have my phone? I can let my sister know we’re on the way.” 

“Hm, yes, but you shouldn’t need it with you. It is an event. We can’t be on our phones all night,” he chides. 

“No, I know, it’s just... I feel like I haven’t checked my emails in ages.” 

“Mm, alright,” he sweeps out of the room and you stand, a bit startled by the shift in his demeanour. You remind yourself that he might be anxious about all the new people. 

He returns and hands you your phone. You message Geri and your mother, just to be sure. You keep the cell in your hand and look at Jonathan. 

“I’ll put it to do not disturb,” you suggest. “Okay?” 

“Well, I suppose there may come an emergency,” he sighs. “I won’t argue. We haven’t time for it.” 

You flinch and tuck the phone into the clutch. You rub your lips together then stop yourself. You follow him from the room and stop to check your make up in the mirror hung in the hall. It’s still in tact. 

You step into your heels and bend to strap them on. Jonathan sidles around you, his keys jingling. Before you can stand, you squeal at the grope on your ass. You pop up and teeter on your shoes. 

“Jonathan!” You exclaim. 

“I’ve got to get it out of my system now,” he smirks. “Oh darling, I’m not sure I’ll make it through the night.” 

“If I have to, you have to,” you poke him. “Now please, no more. I can’t handle it.” 

“Oh, you cannot?” He chuckles and steps closer, drawing you flush to him as he scoops your ass in both his hands. “Not this?” 

“Jonathan,” you press your hands to his chest. “Please.” 

“Mmm, what if I was quick?” He purrs as he rocks you. 

“We have to go.” 

“I know, darling but I’m so very hungry,” he slathers down at your chest. “We can make an excuse. Traffic is absolutely terrible, isn’t it?” 

“Oh gosh,” you squeak and squirm, “I can’t--” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything, fawn,” he slides his hands down as he lowers himself to his knees. He tugs at your skirts as you cry out in shock. “I only want a taste... I’ll save dessert for after dinner.” 

He throws your skirt over his head and disappears beneath. He pulls your leg up and over his shoulder and you wave on one leg. He has you off-kilter as he nuzzles the front of your panties. He hums and it rolls through you.  

You grab onto the shape of his head through your dress and cling to him to keep from falling over. You couldn’t stop him if you tried. As all things with him, it’s easier to just let him do as he will. Besides, you are in no hurry to face your family. 

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

I feel as though when I start slipping mentally it’s shown through my massively compulsive need to buy things. Like I keep thinking “maybe this will fix it !!! Maybe this will make me better. Make me whole. Get rid of this weight in my chest. Make me smart. Make me beautiful. Make me worthy”

And then I just feel like absolute crap

[writingwolverina]

Burial Hymn for A Dislocated Rib

Or, an excerpt from ‘In Perpetuum’, in which Laz Atwater loses his patience.

(TW for gore and self harm)

—

Sometimes I feel like I need to start over. As though if I allow my body to grow itself from scratch, the aches and the soreness and the ways that I was forced to heal incorrectly will solve themselves and I will live without pain. I forget about the way my twitching muscles will struggle to hold my bones in their places, how my head will throb from dehydration while my veins contract around what little blood still flows through them. No, I forget the truth of the matter in favor of my fantasy where a new body will form and that body will be perfect. Then I dig my fingers under the edges of my rib cage and pry them open, letting each rib stab into my chest, puncture my lungs, restrain my breathing as my heart thunders against each cracking, concave rod. I peel my own skin back like I’m skinning a rabbit, I press my knife between the joints in my hip and i crank it, wrench it, force the tendons apart and the meat of my flesh tears as I butcher myself. It is a lapse of sanity and it is a desperate gamble to gain it back. I dismember and dismantle myself, pry out each tooth one by one, pull my entrails out hand over hand until my stomach is empty. I bleed myself like a pig. I hope it will kill me. It never does.

And it never does what I want it to, either. I am always in pain every moment of my reformation. I will never be whole — something will heal wrong, something new, some ache or pain that I never had before. A kink in my back that I have to stretch every hour where I never used to. A soreness in my shoulders when I sleep on my side, a click in my knee when I walk up the stairs. A throbbing in my knuckles, a twinge in my eye. A rotating cast of symptoms I can never outrun and never recover from.

But they will be new pains at least. The old pains will be gone. It will be refreshing, these new terrors. I hope I will be refreshed, anyway. The only reason I tear myself apart is because I cannot bear the monotonous hum of underlying ripping, tearing, stabbing pain I am in. I need it to change its tune. I need to change it even if it means digging a blade into myself and hoping I’m hitting the right nerves, the right chords, rearranging the right bones into the right place.

I take a deep breath and feel shooting pain. One of my ribs healed incorrectly. If I breathe as my instinct is to breathe, keep my breaths shallow, I don’t notice it, but if I inflate my lungs to my fullest it stabs into me, presses into the air-filled sack and threatens to puncture it, though my subconscious won’t let me get to that point.

There is the impulse to reach into my chest and snap it, move it out of the way. But I have been in enough pain today.

This will have to be an ache I tolerate until the next time I reach my limit and search for new agony in rebirth.