#the wild robot escapes

[homocidalpotat]

AAAAAAAAAA

I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!

[russolaw]

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I was going to make a post about Twitter being a terrifying place to post art because literally the first week I made Twitter and posted art, a voice actress for the MMX series commented on one of my comics and tagged her fellow VA saying "OMG we're OTP!" (It was actually like... the one non-ship art I had posted but this too is yuri I guess, power to her.)

Anyways I was looking for that comment to screenshot it and just got blindsided seeing that the English VA of Reigen is the one that frickin sent it to her.

[thinkinonsense]

DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

[darnell-la]

Can you guys please do another fic about Logan and the bartender I’m so hooked on your page🫶🏾

pairing: sub soon dom!logan howlett x bartender!reader

warnings: heavy drinking, attachment issues, heavily drink, lots of begging, oral (fem receiving), face riding while standing up, orgasm, overstimulation, dominance, submission, scratching, choking, rough fuck, cream pie, baby trapping, etc.

note: Logan feels like he needs to be more of a man. he’ll get to that after he submits to his pretty girl.

———

Logan and y/n have been in a talking stage for a month now. The man would come to her work every day, bringing lunch and sitting in the building until she clocked out, and then they’d make their way over to the bar across the street.

Getting y/n drunk was something Logan loved seeing. She was so wild, loose, and beautiful. She got along well with Wade, and of course with Vanessa.

Logan thought that maybe he’d pick up his dominance by getting her so wasted, that he could do whatever he wanted to her, letting her know he was the one in charge, and not her.

Even though he loved the way she ducked him dry that night, he felt like he had to be more of a man. He grew up in different generations where being a man was something that he needed to be.

Every single time Wade brought y/n back him, he failed. She was so damn convincing when she begged to ride him or suck him until he saw stars.

At first, he thought he won the dominance title because she’d be the one on her knees submitting to him, but by the end of the night, he was the own squirming around and begging for more or for her to take it easy on him — “please,”.

Tonight’s another night where Logan took the girl home. She’s drunk, but not as drunk as he wanted her to be. Instead, he was the one who drank too much.

“Why won’t you let me move in?” Logan whined as he leaned back on her apartment door, closing it behind him. Y/n giggled as she bent over to take her shoes off, then his.

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want to move in too early. Said you wanted to make more money and move us out somewhere away from people,” y/n reminded the man, but he wasn’t fully thinking right either way.

“Well, that’s stupid! I-I can take the TVA money and escape from this place. With you,” the man said as y/n helped him to her room, which is basically his room as well since he’s stayed over almost every night since they met.

“I told you not to use your hero money on me, babe. They gave that to you to save and spend for yourself,” Y/n reminded him about that as well.

“B-But, I am doing this for me. Wanting you around me all day is way better without seeing you work behind the counter while I’m just fucking- fucking declining Amazon orders like some robot!”

Y/n had gotten Logan a job. An online job since he whined about wanting to be around he more. All the man had to do was decline the few hundred orders that came through every week, but that was too much for him.

The man talked to her about moving out to the country where he could chop wood for a living, and she could watch him do so while drinking coffee or tea.

Y/n felt off about that idea because Logan was a superhero. An old one at that, and he didn’t need to be working, right? Sometimes she doesn’t consider his strength, but at the end of the day, she feels like she should be the one working.

“Baby, let’s just take this slow, okay? You haven’t even gotten your second paycheck — They pay you monthly and you got a good check a few days ago, right?” Y/n asked the man as he finally sat down on her bed where she put him.

“Yes,” he pouted, not wanting to argue about that money he received. He spent a lot of it on y/n already. Buying her new clothes, shoes, cooking objects, and more. He loved her cooking.

“Alright then,” y/n smiled at the man with a shake of her head. He always worried, but he didn’t have to. Y/n felt good where she was at, but Logan had been planning with Wade already.

Wade didn’t see a such thing in a talking stage between them in the first place, so when Logan came to him, planning to move forty-five minutes out to a nice new cabin and getting that wood-cutting job, Wade was all the way in.

“Using all that money to impress a girl you just met — Sounds like a damn good plan, peanuts,” was all Wade could say. He loved this for Logan, and if he had to bully and make y/n feel bad for not accepting it, he would.

“Let’s get you undressed, baby. We’ll shower tomorrow since I have to change the sheets anyway,” y/n spoke in her soft and sweet voice as she undressed the huge man.

He was a big baby, and he’d always think about that. Even now, he couldn’t help it. He loved being taken care of like this. Having a job and providing a cabin is something he had to do eventually, but letting y/n baby him, was something he could deal with.

“Are you gonna undress too?” The man asked, eyes barely being able to stay open a focused on hers. His hands reached up and tugged on the girl's shirt, wanting to help her just like she helped him.

“Yes, I am,” y/n silently laughed at the man and helped him get her undressed. “So pretty, y/n,” Logan said as soon as y/n’s bra came off. The man grabbed her breasts softly, moving them around as she took her shorts and panties off.

“Logan, not tonight. I’ve gotta work,” y/n spoke as his hands traveled the girl's body and his lips attached to a nipple. “Logan,” y/n rolled her eyes but soon gasped at the instant pleasurable feeling.

“Please, just a little,” the man looked up at her, sucking on her toy with need. “Logan, I’m so tired, and you’re too drunk,” Y/n spoke to him like he didn’t understand, but he did. His reaction was just a bit slow.

“Please, y/n — Please,” the man begged with a low growl, fingers digging into her waist. Y/n stood there for a while, looking down at the man who continued sucking, and leaving love marks.

“Fine, but only for a little,” y/n said, thinking of what he could do for her to make her stay up longer than she wished. “Get on your knees, baby,” y/n said as she stepped back.

Logan looked at the woman, confused and a bit sad his mouth wasn’t on her skin anymore. “C‘mon, we ain’t got all night,” y/n said. Logan did as told and got on his knees without thinking.

“S-Sorry,” he said, cussing himself out that he didn’t listen the first time. His girl asked him something, and he just looked at her like a deer in headlights. So fuckin’ stupid.

“Want you to make me cum,” y/n said after she spread her legs right in front of his face. The man looked up at the young lady, eyes traveling from her eyes all the way down to her cunt.

The man slightly whined as he leaned in, not taking another second to dive into her cunt. He instantly began slurping, taking in the wetness she had been hiding tonight.

“Ah- That’s it,” Y/n said, tangling her hands in his hair and then pulling him closer, now rubbing his mouth in the right places. “Mhm hm?” Logan asked muffled, wanting to make sure he was doing good for her.

“Oh, yes, baby — Always eat me so well,” y/n looked down at the older man, locking eyes with him as he kept sucking in the right spot.

You would think y/n would be the one rolling her eyes, but the one doing the rolling was Logan. After making eye contact with the pretty lady, he couldn’t help himself.

His mind was foggy, and he felt like he was drunk. Almost like he was pussy drunk, but there’s no way, right? Fuck it — There definitely was a way. He’s always this drunk for her. He needs her.

“So hot under me — Might take a picture and keep it in my wallet,” y/n said, making the man groan into her heat. Y/n’s knees bucked, instantly making her feel her cunt pulse.

“S-So close, baby — So close,” y/n gave a heads up, only making the man groan more into her cunt. He was going to cum himself. He knew he’d feel embarrassed about it right after, but right now, he needed it.

“S-Shit,” y/n’s legs almost gave out, but luckily Logan wrapped his arms around her, keeping her up and pinned onto his face. “Fuck, Logan, fuck!” the girl tugged on his hair before right as she released on his face.

The man slightly pulled away, making sure her juice would leak right out of her and into his mouth as much as it could.

Y/n’s clit throbbed hard, feeling amazing like any other night as Logan’s vision blurred, cock twitched, and in seconds, he came.

The older man buried his face into the girl's heat, muffling his own moans as he shook from the hard orgasm he didn’t know he could experience.

Y/n cried out, trying to pull the man off, but he was too lost in his own high. “L-Logan!” Y/n cried out with a crack as an aftershock hit her. Her cunt throbbed harder than usual, making her eyes cross in a way that she’s never done before.

The loud moan she let out only made Logan feel the need to do more, so he did.

The man pulled away from the girl and threw her on the bed after he stood to his feet. “L-Logan, fuck,” Y/n said, trying to catch her breath, but it didn’t take long for the man to hover over her.

“Need to fill you,” the man said, now crawling in between her legs. “No, Logan — I-I can’t anymore,” the young lady shook her head as she leaned her head back, trying to rest.

“Well, I can,” the man said before plunging into her, giving her no warning. Y/n’s loud moan filled the room as he groaned in her neck, thrusting his hips at an ungodly paste. He needed to fill her.

“L-Lo!” Y/n cried, overstimulated, but the man couldn’t think straight. He felt so fucking good, and he knew she did too.

Logan’s breathing sounded deep. Deep and animalistic as his hands grabbed the young lady's thighs on the side, scratching upwards until he heard a pleasure cry escape her mouth.

“So fucking good, baby. Need this every fucking day. No breaks!” The man said, one hand now digging into her waist as the other gripped her neck. He finally had her where he wanted.

“So fuckin’ dumb to let yourself be like this. All drunk and overstimulated. It’s my turn to dominate, baby. Mine!” Logan gripped the girl's neck, watching her jaw slack and eyes roll back.

“Gonna buy that fucking land and take that damn job. You’re gonna sit your pretty ass at him or in my truck and watch me. No more working. No more being away from me. You’re fuckin’ mine,”

Y/n wanted to say yes to everything he mentioned, feeling like she had no choice, and she didn’t. He wanted this, so she had to give it to him. She had to and needed to.

“That’s it, baby — Cum,” Logan’s voice echoed through the girl's head as her walls clenched onto him. “Fuckin’ cum,” the man spat, looking down at her as his hips snapped forward. She swears he’s about to break her.

“C-Can’t anymore,” the young girl cried, but who cared? Not him. What he said, goes. This side of being drunk felt good. The horniness after being on his knees for her, was a boost before his cock begged to feel her walls. He needed the second climax to be in her.

“L-Logan — You don’t have a condom-“ y/n tried saying, but her orgasm stopped her. The young girl cried and whined loudly, her voice sounding crackly as she came all over his cock.

Y/n was the one who suggested a condom. She didn't want the man to regret anything. Logan told her for months that he regretted nothing and never will. Night, he'll prove that to her.

“Gonna fill you up, baby — Make you unemployed,” the man threatened, but it didn’t sound too much like a threat to y/n. She wanted it, rather she was drunk on his cock or completely sober through the day.

“Fuck, yes!” The man growled through his teeth, feeling himself get closer with every thrust. “Tell me to cum in you, baby — Tell me!” The mutant man demanded the warn-out human.

“C-Cum,” y/n tried saying as her head moved side to side slowly, trying to gain her vision back, but everything was spinning. “More — More!” He demanded again. “C-Cum in m-me,” she finally got out.

Logan groaned loudly, cock pushing deep inside of the woman as his grip on her waist and neck tightened. She swore she could feel him actually filling her up until she couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck!” He shouted, slowly pulling out and looking down. His cock was coated with so much of him and her, and she leaked so much of her and him. This was perfect. She was perfect, and now she was staying with him forever.

[pastel-medic]

In another universe, the fight is a bit different.

Reblogs are appreciated!!! 🍰💖

Credits to my twin @hoshi-tsubasa for helping with the class swapping! Gonna make a blurb list on some things about the AU ;P (also I'm developing this as I go so new stuff might be added later!)

Gray Mann's daughter Olivia took over his position as chief executive officer of Gray Gravel Company, and conducted the army of robots to take over Mann Co.

Miss Pauling is the Administrator instead of Helen. She was the one who recruited the mercenaries for the fight against Olivia Mann's army

Mortician's father-son relationship with Kickboxer is a positive one.

Timebomb makes all of his explosives himself and rigs them to have timed detonations or manual ones

Alistair is the only one who knows his real name. Whenever someone asks for his name he provides a different one every time

Alessio is from a former mafia but escaped and took refuge with Miss Pauling

The stitches on Warhorse's face were done by Mortician after an incident on the field that almost left him dead

Welder helped install the sniper eye into Headbuster's eyesocket. It acts as a scope so he doesn't need to use the ones on sniper rifles

Wildfire was a former firefighter who combatted wild forest fires with new fires (a method called backburning)

Will do more doodles of this AU and they'll be on my AF as well! 🍰💖

[gothicminxx]

Sylus x Fem! Reader

CW: Mention of injury and blood, yandere Sylus, slight cameo from Xavier, no use of Y/N, Sylus calls you doll.

In honor of Sylus being released I couldn’t help but write about his man. Kicking my feet, giggling, and blushing.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

He patiently stood on a janky roof with rotting wood. The stench of mold wafting in his nostrils and the pouring rain only amplified the unpleasant aroma. Thick evergreen trees concealed his looming figure, a perfect spot to watch through the eyes of his raven that perched on its own tree a few miles west. Calmly the bird observes a figure that has since piqued his interest in every lifetime. A peculiar soul that has only ever belonged to you. Though a rare and delicate rose like yourself intrigued three others. Tragically, you were not his alone.

Unbeknownst to you, he watched you often through various objects. A curious raven or strange crimson robotic eye in the sky— those times he had gotten careless, you caught him on occasion, not that you knew what the object was. He could not help it, you simply intrigued him. The vain of his existence being in every lifetime you would interest him. Such a pity.

Shamelessly his raven watched as you stood deep in the forest. Your jeans were dirty from mud splattering on the material, your leather boots were caked with a mixture of mud and grass, and your clothes clung to your body— soaked to the bone in pouring rain. But the weather conditions appeared to have little effect on you as you continued to run through the muddy terrain. Your eyes stared intently at your hunters watch, Sylus could only assume you were after a wanderer, “What a persistent little thing.” He chuckled to himself.

You were stubborn and oftentimes a bit too arrogant for your own good, especially when it came to combat. You refused to follow orders, going into the forest alone in search of a wanderer far out of your caliber. But your partner was nowhere to be found— you were never the type to wait around. Even if the task at hand was presented as dangerous, in the name of justice you sought to protect. “Such arrogance.” Sylus hummed, observing as you puffed your chest, and bared your teeth like some sort of wild animal to a wanderer triple your size.

Besides being arrogant, Sylus would also describe you as being reckless. When your adrenaline levels were high you barely thought with a coherent brain. This got you into trouble more than not.

With an overconfident stride you lunged forward with your sword, slicing the wanderer enough to earn a shrill shriek of pain and fury. A cocky smirk appears on your features as your sword is struck in its skin, piercing at its flesh. The wanderer growls in response, clearly growing agitated with the injuries it sustains from the blade of your sword. You were a fierce warrior, Sylus would commend you for that. But he knew the rating class of the wanderer in battle with you currently.

The wounds on the wanderer began to heal, its anger towards you palpable, and yet you refused to surrender as you raised your sword once more. Before you could strike, its massive foot made contact with your body, a yelp escaped your lips as its claws penetrated the flesh of your thigh. Within seconds the wanderer flung you in the air causing you to crash against a tree. You gasped for air as oxygen was deprived from your lungs, eyes wide in fear, and a hand reaching out as if to claw at the tree— practically begging for a savior.

Sylus prepared himself to intervene— this had gone too far. But when his crow squawked, he halted from rushing to the scene. A flash of pure radiant white light caught his attention. The beam was blinding that it almost resembled the welcoming embrace of an angel— utterly captivating.

Flashes of colors from the rainbow soon intertwined with the white beam creating a beautiful show of light. Sylus could hear the wanderer screeching a haunting melody within the wall of colors, meeting its demise, he could only assume.

Seconds passed and the noise dissipated into the unknown, alongside the glittering rays of color. The crow titled its head curiously to a tuft of white fluffy hair kneeled beside your body, concern evident on his face.

He wore a classic hunters uniform. Perhaps he was the missing partner that got you into this predicament. His azure eyes studied his surroundings for a moment to assess any present danger. When he found none, he tended to you. He carefully aided you back on your feet, holding your chin in his gloved hand to examine your face, “Are you okay?” His gentle voice asked.

Still bewildered from the previous battle you blinked a couple of times, slowly nodding your head as if processing his question. There was an aura of familiarity between the both of you. You allowed him to touch your skin to check for further injury. He was tender with you, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll that could break if touched wrong. Sylus could only grimace at the interaction, balling a scornful fist. The man was one of the three, Sylus knew this to be fact, he’d seen an exchange with the two of you before. Though, this one was much different than the last time. He no longer appeared to be a stranger to you.

The milky haired man frowned, placing a wet strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture felt over protective and affectionate, “It’s too dangerous for you to be out here alone.”

Sylus took note of the sparkle in your eye when you looked at him, the demure smile that flashed across your lips at his concern, and slight nuzzle against his palm. He was as important to you, as you were for him. There was a twinge of jealousy that tightened his chest, he should be the one touching your skin. He had to remind himself that the time would soon come. Sylus meticulously crafted a plan to insert himself into your life.

“You never showed, I couldn’t just wait.” You shrugged nonchalantly, it was almost comical to Sylus. You were near death’s doorstep for a moment, and acted as though it was merely another day in the office.

“I was trying to assess the danger myself,” The man sighed, “You could have been killed.”

“I’m okay, Xavier.”

It was evident you were far from okay. Traces of blood scattered your cheek due to small scratches from the tree. There were lacerations on your thigh from the wanderers' sharp claws, deep crimson blood now stained your damp pants. Xavier scowled, “You’re bleeding.”

Before you could retort, Xavier picked you up, “Let’s get you somewhere warm and cleaned up.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺

Sylus sat on a plush leather couch, his fingers tapping impatiently on his lap. The time is finally here, the lamb has entered the lion's den. Naively you drank his offering even if you were warned of possible dangers— your ego was still intact. Your persistence to find answers was admirable to him, but in the end it would come with a price.

A knock rang on the cherry wooden door before opening, “The prey has been caught, sir.” His assistant informed with a bow.

He smirked, finishing off his whiskey, and sauntering toward your location. The black liquid you drank earlier, was spiked with sleeping pills to make it easier for them to capture you. He couldn’t take any risks, you were a fighter afterall.

Sylus reached a large metal door with two of his men guarding the entrance. They gave him a nod as the door opened. He walked inside, noticing your body sat on an uncomfortable metal chair, your hands and legs were bound to it. You appeared to be groggy as your eyes wandered around the room— clearly confused by your new surroundings. “Ah, you’re awake.” Sylus stated.

His baritone voice caught your attention as your body stiffened the closer he got to you. Sylus could sense the immediate tension, your jaw clenching not going unnoticed by him, “Who are you?” You asked, your voice going up an octave as if you were preparing to shout at him.

He walked circles around you, practically sizing you up. In this moment you looked like a helpless little doll, which was different compared to the fierce and reckless warrior he knew you as. “Sylus.” He responded simply.

Sylus kneeled in front of you, his crimson eyes studying your every feature. You were much more beautiful than he anticipated, he was used to seeing you from afar that this level of proximity made his heart hammer in his chest. He understood the decades of intrigue from the three others and his own. A true enchantress that drove him mad with obsession. “Why am I here?” You snarled.

Your tone made him chuckle, “As I asked before, will you become the hunter or the hunted?” He tapped against the chair, “Seems you were hunted.”

“Are you some sort of pervert?” Your voice is full of contempt.

He shook his head, “No, nothing of the sort. You see, when you enter the N109 zone, there are no rules. We made a deal, you should have listened to your friend when he told you to tread carefully.”

Sylus stood on his feet, checking his watch to appear bored of the conversation. But you fascinated him, more than you could possibly understand. Currently as you sat captured there was an aura of defiance. A man as intimidating as himself did not shake you with trepidation; it was almost— thrilling.

For a moment your eyes widened in realization of your earlier conversation with Rafayel and the drink you accepted, “I only care about receiving intel.” You scoffed.

He placed a slender finger under your chin and tilted your head up to meet his scarlet eyes. A shiver ran up your spine, the sound of your breath catching in your throat made him lean in. “You’ll receive your intel in due time.” Sylus whispered, “But you’ll play by my rules, doll.”

Now that Sylus finally obtained you again, he’d make sure it was forever. He was never good with farewell’s, this time it would be different.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

[theharkmonologue]

There’s something both very funny and kind of cosmically terrifying about CHEF from Risk of Rain. You land on this planet of strange creatures, giant crabs and very angry birds, that you try desperately to escape from…but to this guy? They’re just ingredients.

Imagine you’re a sentient mushroom creature, of which this planet has many, a drop pod crashes out of the sky and this robot climbs out of it and starts throwing cleavers with wild precision and blasting flame from the oven in its chest because it’s only directives are DICE and SEAR. That’s like, the worst case scenario for a sentient mushroom creature.

[waughymommy]

SISSYBABY MAKING 💕💕

Chapter 1: The Shack in The Woods

Rachel, I’m not having this conversation again!” Mark slammed the door behind him, the echo of his own fury chasing him down the street. His chest tightened with each step, her words like poison seeping into his veins. She had a knack for resurrecting old battles, twisting them into narratives where he was the villain. He needed escape, a sanctuary where her accusations couldn’t reach him.

His feet carried him instinctively to the edge of town, to the overgrown orchard that had become a haven for lost souls like himself. Once a meticulously tended expanse of fruit trees, it had fallen into wild disarray since the farmer’s mysterious disappearance years ago. Now, tangled branches and overgrown weeds created a labyrinth of shadows and secrets.

As he followed the familiar trail, a narrow path he’d never noticed before snaked off into the undergrowth. A flicker of curiosity ignited within him. What mysteries lay hidden beyond the familiar? He hesitated for a moment, then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, he veered onto the uncharted path.

The trail twisted and turned, each step deepening the silence around him. Suddenly, through a break in the foliage, he glimpsed a structure – a ramshackle shack, its weathered boards warped and worn, ivy vines decorated it like a Christmas present. A shiver ran down his spine, a strange mix of unease and anticipation. Quickening his pace, he approached the dwelling, his voice echoing in the stillness, “Hello? Anyone there?” Mark didn’t hear anyone. So he decided to explore it.

He reached for the door handle, his fingers trembling. But before he could touch it, a metallic blur erupted from the shadows. Robotic arms, gleaming in the dim light, shot out, their sharp pincers clamping down on Mark’s limbs. He cried out in alarm, struggling to break free, but the grip was relentless.

He was yanked forward, dragged through the doorway, and plunged into the darkness beyond.

Will be posting chapter 2 SOONEST.

💕💕

[thedevilspearl]

➛ out of office hours

a/n: been craving a ceo!luci for so long so i decided to write it myself and i’m in love with him >_< am also thinking about him falling in love with you and i just—! <333333

tags: 4.2k words, ceo!lucifer x secretary!reader, female reader, dom!lucifer, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, ass slapping, degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation. minors do not interact!

you always felt the need for professionalism in your role as a secretary. especially with a boss as hot as yours.

he was terrifying at first, you will admit that. but having the raven–haired man bare down at you with those unruly eyes was the most exciting thing about the job. from the beginning, he watched you closely, his gaze raking up and down your form, taking in the way you do things so perfectly.

your profession is simple enough; organising files, preparing his documents, reading and directing e–mails and scheduling all of lucifer’s appointments are the routine kind of things you do.

but every now and then, a splash of wild colour enters the monotonous life as a secretary, and you find yourself on your knees beneath your cold and grumpy boss.

“that’s it,” lucifer sighs. “just like that.”

today was a world–wind of emotions for both you and lucifer. as the ceo, he is bound to have days filled with stress. and on those days, your bound to feel it tenfold as you are the one doing all of the work behind the scenes, supporting him as best you can.

through all the excessively long and draining meetings and the ruthlessly hectic business environment, you both managed to make it back in the office, despite it being late into the evening, long after business had closed for the day.

he finishes up some work on his computer, work you will need to catch up on later, and hums from the warmth of your mouth running up and down his cock. he relaxes into his chair, no longer paying attention to his screen and looks down at you tucked snugly under his desk.

squeezed in the space between his thighs, you forge eye contact with him as he brushes his hair back with slender fingers, revealing a slightly sweaty forehead and reddened cheeks.

you’re aware of how hard he tries to maintain the classic ceo persona — an emotionless robot who cares only for money and power — but when he’s with you, when he’s fucking you and using you and allowing you to use him how you please….it’s a marvel, to say the least.

his blush is enhanced with the ruby glimmers in his irises but the dark, lustful entity behind those eyes spur you on.

a mixture of whispery groans and praises escape him and you take it as your signal to suck in harder, then to tease him by pulling back and swirling your tongue around his cock, paying extra attention to his sensitive tip before taking him whole in your mouth again.

“mmh….fuck, keep doing it like that.” he orders and you obey.

you wonder if the pleasure you thrust upon him is what takes his moodiness away. seeing him slip into his relaxed self, his greedy and self–indulgent self while he gets off on your mouth is surely a sight no one else would see.

as far as you know, you’re the only one who does these things with him.

not that it’s an exclusive relationship, but lucifer has expressed he would only do such things with people he trusts and you happen to be one of them. conveniently, the only one he has regular access to.

and that’s how this situation began.

it’s rare, but every now and then when either of you need relief, you use each other. there are rules in place, of course. there always are with a man like lucifer.

the typical things like no strings attached and no kissing.

but your least favourite rule is no fucking.

feelings, kissing and fucking: all three of them would decimate the professional boundaries you have in place.

but that’s not to say you don’t have fun without all of that.

using your hands and mouths on each other is satisfying enough. and the opportunity to even look at lucifer’s cock, let alone suck him dry, is more akin to a blessing.

the feel of his cock in your mouth will never grow old. you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder and humming so the vibrations can send waves of pleasure up his cock and into his body. he twitches, rutting his hips into you, no longer restraining himself.

his hand plants itself into you scalp, using your head as he pleases until hot cum blasts into your mouth and his hips stutter between your lips. you watch with wide eyes as his face contorts in pleasure, and you feel your panties grow more soaked in your arousal.

you had already removed your shoes and blazer, but while you swallow the remnants of lucifer’s cum, you unbutton your shirt and kick off your skirt, leaving your bra and panties for him to remove. he steadily reaches behind you, not breaking eye contact, and unclasps your bra.

his dark orbs finally move away from yours, only to remain stuck on you breasts and perky nipples. you don’t miss the swipe of tongue across his lips; he’s hungry.

pulling him from his trance, you work on his own shirt, unbuttoning and pulling it from him with zeal. he meets your eagerness by pushing you down on his desk, tracing his fingers over your ankles and up your calves. he leaves kisses along the inside of your thighs, promising to go further.

and when he reaches the apex, he chuckles softly at the soaked stain leaking through your panties. you bare your wetness proudly, and his cock twitches knowing it’s all due to him. one chaste kiss over your panties causes you to quiver and a moment later, your panties are ripped from you.

your pussy glistens in the dimmed light of his office and your boss, who is a man with little time, wastes none when it comes to devouring you.

his hot mouth collides with your already burning pussy and you whine wantonly. he slobbers all over you, mixing your arousal with his own saliva before sucking it all back into his mouth. his tongue tickles between your folds, swiping up and down and swirling circles at the top where your most sensitive part hides.

and just when your clit is ready to explode with pleasure and send it adrift throughout your body, he smacks harsh, wet kisses on your lips, sucking and nibbling like his life depends on it.

“fuck! lucifer!” you squeal. “please make me cum!”

he buries his head deep between your thighs and you lock him in. you yearn for release and grind your hips into his face, to which he responds by licking and sucking your pussy with more vigour. and as you rock your pussy on his face, the pleasure builds up and explodes in an electrifying burst.

ripples of exultation flood your body, nourishing your flesh with the meaning of true bliss; a cause for you nerves to jubilate and rejoice. sparks dance along your skin and lucifer pulls away, gasping between your trembling thighs with his face glossed over from your pussy.

he kisses his way up slowly, leaving marks on your stomach and giving special attention to your breasts. he eyes you as he takes each nipple one after the other, and sucks. falling onto your elbows, you throw your head back and attempt to catch your breath, but lucifer makes that difficult as his lips snake up the skin of your neck and capture your lips in his own.

the sweet taste of your essence coats your tongue, but what surprises you more is how casual lucifer’s lips feel against yours. it’s the first kiss you’ve shared, yet it feels like you’ve kissed him a million times before, like he’s the only man you should ever kiss.

tiny cracks appear in the set of rules. he shouldn’t have kissed you, and you most certainly should not be kissing him back.

but you wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently telling him you are fine with this. more than fine, actually. you would rather die than move away from him now.

wrapped so closely together, embraced in each other’s lips and arms, it feels like it should be no other way.

his tongue reaches in and toys with yours in a playful fight for dominance and you hope this forbidden kiss could last forever, but you pull back slight when his cock rubs against your sensitive clit.

a single look to him to ask what he is doing earns a single look from him, signifying what he wants next.

you shouldn’t.

you absolutely should not do this.

but no matter how many times you remind yourself how wrong it is in these few short moments, your body speaks for itself and you nod. lucifer’s shoulders visibly relax, as if he was scared you would say no.

you can’t feel guilty about this, not when lucifer wants it as much as you. he strokes his cock, eyes furrowed from the battle waging in his mind. he’s as conflicted as you, but in times like this, he is hopeless in the fight against his lust.

“are you sure you want this?”

“yes,” you gasp. “are you?”

“i wouldn’t have gotten this far if i didn’t.”

you hesitate for a moment, but he assures you with his charming words, whether they speak the truth or otherwise.

“you needn’t worry about the repercussions. this is purely for stress relief.”

you’re sure the sinking feeling in your chest is a bad sign, knowing it hurts that all of this is just for the release of pent up stress. but still, your body is greedy enough to bury that bitter hesitance deep down and replace it with more lust.

“then stop talking and do it,” you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer so his cock prods your entrance. “don’t take your time with me, lucifer. i’m not a patient woman.”

his softness is gone instantaneously and like a flash of lightening, you are shocked by how quickly he can switch from his relaxed and vulnerable side to his authoritative and commanding façade.

“you ought to show more respect to your boss,” he leans down, close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “you’ve forgotten your manners.”

“i hardly think manners are necessary. with this, at least.”

“hm, well, you see,” he taunts. “i won’t give you anything unless you ask for it nicely. and you’re not a patient woman, so how long are you going to wait for it?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment, hoping lucifer would hop straight into fucking you senseless. but you forgot how much of a control freak he is, and how everything happens his way or it doesn’t happen at all.

you hoped the lenience and generosity he has for you would work in your favour, but apparently not.

“i don’t need to ask again,” he warns. “tell me what you want and say please.”

you bite your lip, glaring at him daringly but a single stern look puts you in your place and speaking the words you both desperately need to hear.

“please, i want you to fuck me.”

he stares you dead in the eye as he utters another order.

“say it again.”

“please, lucifer,” you whine. “fuck me, please!”

in a moment’s turn, he flips you so your feet touch the ground and his large hand on your lower back pushes you into the edge of his desk, while the other lines his cock with your sopping entrance.

he slips in, teasing you and earning a moan as he slowly rocks his hips, entering you further with each roll of his hips.

you push your body against him, and his cock digs further into your pussy. you keep rocking, both in unison until his cock is deep enough for you to scream his name.

“lucifer—ah!”

your squeal is cut short when he ruts into you again, slamming his hips against your ass and groaning from the tight warmth of your pussy enveloping his aching cock.

both of you are so lost in the wonders of each other’s body that the abrupt, high–pitched chiming almost goes unnoticed.

shrill ringing of the telephone on lucifer’s desk threatens to dampen the mood. but lucifer’s cock has only just entered and you’re not far away from the best part of the night. to hell with the phone call, lest it disturb your secret pleasure time with your boss.

“what are you waiting for?” lucifer rubs your hips with a subtle but notable thrust of his own. “aren’t you going to answer it?”

“what—ah?!” you gasp, doing your utmost to stay upright on his desk while he pounds into you. but your elbows have turned feeble from your orgasm, trembling as you try to hold yourself up with them. “i can’t do that!”

“answer it.”

his curt order is enough to make you obey, as is the harsh grip on your ass cheek. you lean over the desk a little further, reaching for the phone. this is a terrible idea but you can’t seem to break free of the spell lucifer has cast on you — you’d obey every last one of his orders.

“h–hello?”

in the process of lucifer figuratively rearranging your guts, he seems to have also turned your brain to mush and you cannot comprehend the words coming from the speaker.

all you can feel is lucifer, and how he hovers lower and lower, leaning down on your body until you’re squished between him and his desk. he grinds his hips into you, leaving chaste kisses along your shoulder blade and when he is flush against your ear, he whispers.

“focus.”

but you’re incapable of doing anything, including focusing on the phone call.

you have a client in one ear, and your boss in the other ear. neither of which can hear the other, but what is certain is that they can both hear you muffling your moans with a hand clasped over your face, and your entire body shakes as lucifer refuses to cease fucking you brainless.

“hello? is anyone there? i can hear you breathing.”

within seconds, you move the phone away from your mouth, ready to hang up but lucifer’s reflexes are quick enough to grab your arm and bring the phone back to where it was moments ago.

“answer him,” lucifer whispers. you shake your head with tight lips, holding your breath as to not make a sound while lucifer holds the phone against your face. and into the ear he has claimed, he orders, “speak. now. or i won’t let you cum.”

you open your mouth, swallowing in air before finally speaking.

“this is mr. morningstar’s office. how can i help?”

“i wish to speak with lucifer himself. this is urgent.”

your mouth hangs open, silent moans causing your body to convulse as lucifer grinds slowly and deeply in your pussy. you’re hanging on by a thin thread, but lucifer brings your attention back from your oncoming orgasm.

“you want to cum, don’t you? be a good girl and do your fucking job.”

lucifer pushes himself up and switches up his pace from slow ruts to harsh and fast thrusts. each of them knock the air out of you as you try to speak.

“i must apologise, sir. you’re calling during his out of office hours so unfortunately i can’t let you speak to him at the moment.”

“why the hell not?!”

“this is his personal—ah!” you stifle a yelp to the best of your ability, praying lucifer would have some mercy and not humiliate you — or allow you to humiliate yourself. “this is his personal time but i can pass on a message.”

the man continues to speak and with shaky hands, you reach for pen and paper, turning your moans from lucifer’s cock dragging in and out of your pussy into hums of acknowledgement in heed of the man’s queries. you only hoped they’re disguised enough to not spark intrigue on the other end of the line, because that would be the end of all the professionalism you held.

you slam the telephone into its holder, ending the call as quickly as possible.

“what the hell was that?” you whine, clenching down on lucifer’s cock as you near the bliss you’ve been longing for. your complaints are disrupted with stutters caused by lucifer’s thrusts. “do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“you’re the one who answered,” he bites back, landing his hand down harshly on your ass once again. “not me.”

“you told me—ah! to answer!”

“and you could have refused.”

you lower your head, biting back a moan. you could have refused, but the outcome of tonight’s session would be a lot different if you didn’t answer. perhaps, lucifer might have stopped immediately, leaving you on the outskirts of blissful territory.

or alternatively, he may have begun to fuck you harsher, rougher, meaner; punishing you for not obeying his order. but you wouldn’t think of it as a punishment, as long as you get to cum.

“that’s right,” he continues. “you’re so desperate to cum, you don’t care if someone hears you getting fucked like a whore.”

an especially loud groan escapes you at the sound of the new nickname. you quite like the sound of it, but your body more so and lucifer can tell from the quivering walls of your pussy.

“you like that? you like being called a whore?”

“yes!”

“i fucking knew it.”

he thrusts impossibly harder and your body collapses, allowing him full control of your pleasure. and he gifts it to you on a golden platter.

“go on. you’ve been a good whore, so go ahead and cum,” he grunts. “cum for me. cum all over my cock like the desperate, pathetic bitch you are.”

“fuck! ah!” you can’t even warn him of your orgasm as you clench your walls, feeling his cock in greater detail as it rubs you in all the right places. “fuck, luci— feels so good!”

“that’s it, baby,” lucifer hums, emptying his own load in you. “good fucking girl.”

his words are dragged out, mellowed by the pure ecstasy he has found in your pussy. and your pussy, too, feels awestruck from the new sensations of him filling you up, not just with his cock but with his cum, too.

you’re taken over by bliss and warmth, limbs trembling from the sheer shock of it all. never had you imagined how one of your worst days would end with such astoundingly good sex. you ebb and flow with the pleasure, letting your body relax and the feelings to wither away slowly while you catch your breath.

but lucifer doesn’t give the feelings a chance to subdue and picks up the pace. with hands grounded in your hips, he pushes all of his might into one more round. the stickiness from your mixed arousals leaking out of your pussy allow him to fuck you with ease, and not minutes later, your screaming and thrashing with a new, heightened pleasure.

your tip–toes graze the floor, pressing into the ground as hard as you can to stabilise yourself. but lucifer fucks you ruthlessly and when he rips another orgasm from you, your legs fly up and outward and your hips rock against him and the desk in a most embarrassing manner.

your limbs flail and your body convulses and lucifer relishes, knowing he is the reason behind your wild pleasure. he wonders if anyone else could make you like this, to drive you insane with pleasure that you no longer have control over your body, even for the short–lived moment of him fucking you through your orgasm.

perhaps, that is why he keeps going. because he wants this moment to last forever.

having your tight pussy wrapped around him and your wildly beautiful moans filling his ears for eternity doesn’t sound bad at all.

but he, too, has limits and feels himself slow down. his thrusts become sloppy and gentle and his guttural groans are replaced with heavy breaths.

“fuck….” he gasps and he truly can find no other words. “fuck.”

collapsing into his chair, he watches your body twitching as you lay exhausted on his desk with you red ass on display and his cum dripping down your legs.

when you finally regain control over your limbs, you slowly rise, stretching to ease your muscle. but your whines and groans and the sight of your sullied body keep his cock hard for longer than he thought.

“are you alright?” he asks breathlessly. “rest longer if you need to.”

“no,” you state, looking at him over you shoulder before backing up. “we’re not done yet.”

lucifer is surprised. under the assumption that you would be as spent as he is, he does not expect you to find his cock and slip it inside of you again. but that’s exactly what you do.

“oh my god….” you moan, hypersensitive to any and all ministrations against your pussy. but still, you want more, you need more. “please, it’s so good!”

lucifer supposes he should let you continue bouncing on his cock given that he released all of his stress on you. the least he can do is allow you to use him until you’re satisfied. but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down. his fingers fit into your flesh like second nature.

his added strength makes it easier for you, and you focus more on finding your next orgasm.

the usually quiet office of morningstar corporation’s boss is now filled will all sorts of obscenities — from your desperate gasps and moans to the squeaking of lucifer’s chair, and the abrupt slaps cutting through the air to the scuffling of paper on his desk when you grab onto it for stability as rapture fills you for the last time, teaching you that the joy and delight you find in melding your bodies together is the most sinful of utopias.

pleasure turns to pain, and pain turns to pleasure as you are overwhelmed with the orgasms you have endured.

lucifer’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you back into him with one hand straying to fondle your breasts. breathing in your scent, he grounds himself in you and you lay limp in his arms as all the glee and elation filling your body slowly slips away.

regaining your stable mind and body, you realise you and your boss have a lot of discussing to do. and what follows can either make or break the relationship you have with him as your boss and you as his secretary. all professional boundaries have been broken, and the flimsy rules you had in place to ensure your situation would not advance to the level it did tonight are left far in hindsight.

there’s not a single directive you left untouched. but knowing you broke all the rules, and that lucifer instigated most of it, is worrying as much as it is electrifying because you know that extra care and attention from lucifer isn’t just for the sex.

he appreciates your abilities outside of the sexual encounters you share.

as you would both understand, your role is merely to serve him and his company. he receives corporate aide from his directors but still, he trusts your intuition. he listens to your gut feeling as if it were his own.

he has a habit of asking your opinion when it comes to high–risk decisions, or urging you to tell him your opinion on a new client he had a bad feeling about. although you’re in his presence for admin only, lucifer ensures you are there for more than that.

that you are there for him and not just your job.

in more ways than one.

and he proved that tonight when he kissed you. the first rule of your arrangement was no feelings and no kissing. but lucifer, a man who lives by rules, had thrown it out the window. it only made you more curious as to what would come from it.

surely, you would stick to the scope of your professionalism. at least, what’s left of it. but his lips against yours, the soft drag of them across your skin, the sweet whispers that meant something entirely different after he kissed you….is it really worth the cost of losing your livelihood?

“we should do this more often,” he breathes into your mouth, enveloping your lips between words. “i’m beginning to despise how rare of an occurrence this is.”

“we do this often enough,” you warn him, rising from your place on his lap.

but he doesn’t let you escape. he grabs your wrist and pulls you back into him. your butt is awkwardly positioned near his softened cock but you rest your shoulder on his chest with your arms tucked between your bodies.

“if you don’t wish to do this again, then just say the word. but for now, let’s stay like this a little while longer,” he speaks softly into your hair. “i had a long day.”

“i did, too.” you hum.

his big arms wrapping around you feels foreign. but still, it feels natural to slide your head onto his shoulder and rest in his embrace. you have been intimate with lucifer in more ways than one, but this….sitting in his lap, bare and vulnerable, and holding him back while he kisses and caresses the skin on your neck and shoulders….it’s a different type of intimate.

a type of intimacy you never imagined he would be capable of.

“i hope i made your day better, even in the slightest.”

“trust me, lucifer,” you smirk. “you turned a really shitty day into a really good one.”

the both of you relish in each other’s soft laughter, but taking notice of the darkened sky has you realising this moment will soon come to an end, and you will need to part ways and pretend none of this ever happened, even the new additions to your extra duties to your ceo.

your heart sinks, knowing you have grown fonder of these encounters, fonder of the man beneath you. and you don’t want it to end despite all the alarm systems in your body telling you otherwise.

you ignore them for now, relishing in the warmth from lucifer while he is still here with you.

with a smug smile, you think to yourself: enjoy it while you can.

“and me?” you ask playfully, nudging him to open his eyes. “did i make your day better?”

you hear the soft inhale he takes, discreetly breathing in the air you give and allowing it to settle his beating heart and erratic nerves. you will never know, but even in your no strings attached relationship with him, you turned him from a purely lustful man into a man capable of love.

“yes,” he chuckles, and he looks at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before. lucifer is so adoring in his gaze. “you always do.”

you smile giddily. to yourself, or to him, you’re not quite sure. perhaps it’s the after–effects of your multiple orgasms that have you grinning and kissing him again. or maybe it’s a new chapter unfolding between you.

either way, the future of your position with him and the company is a lot less daunting when lucifer is close to you like this.

“how’s that for stress relief?”

[yellowjestertfs]

The Billionaires secret

“Hi there. Find what what you were looking for?” I ask in my customary upbeat yet soul-dead customer service voice.

“I think so. Going to give this one a try.” She says handing me a copy of a book called The Billionaire’s Secret from the romance section. I can see why she picked it, on the cover a man in a suit lay on a bed with the buttons of his dress shirt undone showing off his impressive six-pack and strong hairless chest. Brownish red eyes smolder seductively outwards from a masculine face. High cheekbones, soft lips, and a wide square jaw adorned with black stubble that connects to a short-styled head of black hair.

“I’m Bridget by the way,” she says, obviously a bit embarrassed to see me eying up the cover. “Oh, and this is Dan.” She says gesturing at the man standing a few paces away, engrossed by some mobile game on his phone. 

“Nice to meet you, Bridget.” I scan the book. “That will be $17,” I say. 

She glances over at Dan, he doesn't seem to notice so she retrieves her credit card from her purse and taps it against the machine. “I don’t know why I expected him to offer.” She tells me in a conspiratorial whisper “He’s broke. I mean not that it matters to me, but it would just be nice to date a wealthy man or one who at least pays attention to me.” 

Customers often confided in me. I wish I could say it is because of my open honest face or charismatic demeanor but it probably had more to do with a book I once ate about a bartender people told all their secrets to.

I look around. There are a few consumers browsing the book shelves and my manager is sitting at his desk in the back, no one close enough to notice. Bridget seems sweet, too sweet to be with a man like Dan. Poor girl just wants to escape with some fiction, so why not indulge her a little.

“Did you get a chance to check out our books on sale?” I ask Bridget diverting her attention away. She looks over at the shelf I pointed at giving me enough time to crack my knuckles, take a deep breath, and begin.

I place my hands over the cover of the book and it springs open, the pages start to turn themselves slow at first then speed up. Words start to flow from the book as the pages flip past. The letters lift from the page like a sticker being peeled, floating into the air to spin around me. They form a cyclone of black ink as the pages that flip by are left blank.

I feel the lines as they flow off the paper. The first line reads. “Kustav tower is 400 stories tall, rumor has it, it’s smaller than Dane Kustav’s dick.” 

I directed the words towards Bridget’s boyfriend. The ink splashes into him, absorbing into his gray hoodie but leaving no mark. None except for the fact that his basketball shorts start to thrash like a wild animal is trapped inside. Dan didn't look up from his phone even as his dick doubled and then tripled in size to match the one described in the book Billionaires Secrets.

I tried to be sparing with my abilities. Fiction is great so long as it stays fiction, otherwise you have evil robots or sparkly vampires running around. Still, every once in a while my heroic urges will take over and I am called to help someone with my power to bring words to life. Bridget is one of those people.

More words flowed off the page. “Dane Kustav is well dressed at all times. One would be hard-pressed to ever see Dane not in a suit. If one did see him without a suit, it would be in the bedroom where they would be very, very hard pressed indeed.”

The words spin around me once then drift over to Dan again on an invisible wind. This time his clothes were affected by the words. His grey hoodie which he wore with the hood up, melted off his body, the threads unwinding then rebinding themselves into a far higher quality dress shirt and black jacket complete with a blue tie. His shorts became black dress pants and his sneakers a pair of brown loafers. The outline of his much larger dick was clear in his new tighter pants. A few seconds passed with no changes then, slowly his tie undid itself and each of the buttons on his dress shirt opened so that he was sporting a matching look to that of the man on the cover of the book. Unlike the cover, however, Dan lacked the chiseled face or body to pull off the open shirt. His slight gut and saggy, hairy chest made the outfit look awkward rather than sexy.

Bridget looked up from the sale rack and glanced at her half-nude boyfriend with a chagrined glance. In her mind, he was always dressed in the finest clothes even if he still acted like a man-child.

“Dane Kustav towered over everyone be that in stature or in business.” 

I directed the words into him. Dan shot upwards, his modest 5’10” frame becoming a proud 6’3”, clothes growing to match. And though it wasn’t visible Dan’s head was also filled with business smarts he had lacked before. The game on his phone shifted from Fruit Ninja to Hey Day.

The pages continue to flip, their words leaving the page to float in the air under my command.

“Dane Kustav's muscles were like that of a brass statue, smooth, hard, and golden. Each curve could only have been sculpted by the hands of an artist for nature could never make anybody so perfect.”

I look over at Dan’s soft pudgy body. Not the words I would use to describe him, at least not yet. I float the sentence to him.

Instantly Dan’s belly flattens. One by one his abs pop into being as if pushed out from the inside like one of those pop-it toys. His man boobs visibly transmute from fat to muscle, perking up and then growing into a strong chest like that of the man on the cover of the book. Inside the sleeves of his dress shirt, his arms thicken into a pair of round vascular biceps while his legs below do the same. A tan, like oil spreading over water seeps across his body until his exposed muscles really looked like sculpture bronze turned to life. The few hairs that had looked sloppy before now lent his body a rugged masculinity.

Bridget looks at her boyfriend with a new lust. Her hands start to roam his abs and chest but Dan, still on his phone, only bats them away. 

Man-child indeed, a man in the body, a child in the face and the personality. I divert my attention back to the flipping pages looking for words I could use to fix that. The book is reaching the end, and the main character, assistant to the billionaire, has finally seduced her boss in a very steamy scene. High-class writing it is not, but at least it gives me plenty to work with.

“I ran my hand down his sharp square jaw.” 

I throw the words at him. The shape of his face shifts to be more masculine.

“He looked at me through squinted sexy amber eyes.”

His eyes shift from a pale blue to an amber so rich it almost looked red. He finally looks up from his phone and deep into Bridget's eyes. She returns the stare with a smile. 

“He brought my hand up to his cheek, I felt each bristle of his short sharp stubble.”

Dan moves Bridget's fingers up to his face which is now covered in a sexy two days' worth of growth.

“Then he kissed me with his soft sensual lips hard enough to make me weak in the knees.”

The words flow off the page and into him. His lips grow pillowy and pink and interlocked with Bridget’s. He wraps his muscular arms around her, keeping her steady as she collapses into him. 

“I warp my fingers into his jet-black quaffed hair as I prepare for him to take me.”

His hair gains a stylish cut and is dark as pitch, body hair and stubble do the same. Bridget greedily runs her hand through his new dark dew.

“He smelled like sports deodorant, woody cologne, and sex. I wanted nothing more than this man to take me.”

The bookstore fills with his scent. I am surprised to find myself turned on by the whole thing. I have reached the end of the book, the final page.

“It was then that I learned the billionaire's secret.”

This was the good stuff. I leech the words off the page and send them to Dan, or rather now, Dane.

“His secret wasn’t that he was hot, or rich, or could make any girl swoon.”

Their kiss intensifies. Dane started to undo Bridget's blouse.

“No, the billionaire's secret was.”

Suddenly Dane pulls away.

“The billionaire was gay.”

“Sorry Bridget,” Dane says taking a few steps back and looking at her with sudden realization. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

His eyes wander over to lock onto mine, rich amber orbs seeming to really take me in. He winks. “You thought, I think that could work. What are you doing after this?” He asks smoothly “Want to go get coffee in Paris on my jet? My treat.”

[tofu83]

What men bred for.

3. Hunters and Preys

Alien Masters’ Earthling ethologist have discovered that Earthlings aka humans, especially males, like to connect beasts or raptors with themselves, such as covering their bodies with the furs of wild beasts, using the remains of wild beasts as body decorations, and even directly refers to himself as a beast, as if he wishes he was a beast. This is very strange behavior in their eyes. They were unable to determine why humans, who had developed a low level of civilization, would aspire to be equal to lower animals.

They also discovered that in addition to raising hounds, humans also raise cheetahs and falcons to assist in hunting, or keep lions and tigers as pets. Besides, another behavior is even more jaw-dropping to scholars: releasing wild beasts in a place called an "artificial hunting ground", and then hunting them for entertainment.

In the end, scientists put forward hypotheses:

1. Male humans desire to degenerate into lower-level beasts that obey wild instincts.

2. Beasts can assist in hunting or be hunted.

3. To summarize the above two points, it is a man’s nature to desire to be a hunter or a prey.

Behaviorists shared this theory with breeders, who randomly applied it to the development of new breeds of humans.

They replaced part of human genes with some genes from carnivorous beasts and developed several varieties. The genes of the selected beasts include lions, cheetahs, tigers, as well as eagles, vultures and other raptors. As for herbivorous beasts such as rhinos, elephants, bison, etc., we have yet to study how to apply it to humans.

These varieties of humans are very obedient to their wild nature and have more fighting and mating instincts than other species, but they are also more difficult to control and are difficult to apply in military applications. However, they are very suitable as hunting partners of their alien masters. They enjoy their inherited beast power and take pleasure in hunting prey.

Through modification helmet training, they can accurately stun their prey when they catch it. Even if the alien creatures are several times stronger than them, they will still achieve their mission, and even if they die as a result, they will be in a high degree of joy. It is understood that this is due to the positive effect of the dual bonus of the pleasure brought by obeying their master and the display of masculinity.

Due to the high casualty rate, upgraded hunter products like guards covered in latex and alloy armor have also been put into production. The orders are now full. As expected, as long as robots are made based on male humans, they will be very popular.

Not only that, alien masters think that raising animals for themselves to hunt is a good sport, so they also create species that can be used as prey based on the theories of behavioral scientists.

This type of breed is controversial because their genes for obedience to their masters have been "turned off" in a special way. When they see alien masters, they will resist or run away, which means they will be in danger if they escape into the wild. However, because now only males are produced, so there will be no problem of natural reproduction.

Some of these prey humans only maintain their original genetic makeup, while others add genes such as antelopes to make them more difficult to hunt. They were put into a "hunting ground" specially set up by alien masters to live freely. Those wealthy alien owners will take the hunter humans they raise to hunting grounds to hunt prey humans.

They may not necessarily kill these prey. Of course, it is legal to display them as specimens or cook and eat them. But they are more willing to personally tame these "wild" humans who don't know what obedience is into their own pets, just like how humans tamed wild horses in the past.

If the masters simply want to enjoy hunting humans, it is okay to return the prey to the hunting ground, or they can sell the prey. All-purpose livestock like wild earthlings are hot commodities whether purchased through normal channels or traded on the black market.

[pixeljade]

No but like, OF COURSE GlaDOS would have feelings for Chell.

GlaDOS, in her previous life as Caroline, was always doing as she was told. She was obedient, dedicated to Cave, willing to work on whatever experiments Cave had for her. Yes she was an assistant, but Cave definitely is the type to have little regard for what that meant, and Caroline was happy to oblige...until he was dying. Thats when he decided he was going to have her consciousness jammed into a machine, forced to experiment and test for eternity. Trapped in a form she could hardly recognize, separated from all humanity. The designers behind GlaDOS said they wanted her to look like a woman caught in bondage, and its fitting...she has no escape from her tiny room except virtually.

And then Chell is her test subject.

Chell, who, like her, is trapped. Chell, who is forced into these tests, same as her. Chell, who has the guts and the gall to break free of the bondage fate bestowed on her! And Chell even temporarily brings GlaDOS the sweet release of death, something that, in that moment, must have felt like freedom finally came for her...until she realized. There is no death for her. GlaDOS is forced to replay the moment ad infinitum in her "sleep", and Chell returns...and brings her back to life. Incomprehensible! An INSULT! And so the testing begins anew, with added viciousness, until Chell gets Wheatley to put GlaDOS into a potato. And as much as thats played as a joke, think about it: this is the first time in uncountable years that GlaDOS has truly been released from that one small room. She then slowly remembers her past, as Caroline, and realizes what she's become. That she trapped Chell the same way Cave trapped her. That Chell represents the wild, beautiful idea of freedom. That Chell has shown her, while she is still trapped in a digital prison, she is not doomed to live in that one room.

And at the end of Portal 2, once GlaDOS is able to get control of the facility again, she decides to delete Caroline. This was a mercy killing to a side of her that was tortured. But she didnt forget, no, which is why she sends Chell to her freedom. Out of love for what she's given her, but also understanding that she'll harm her again...AND all the programming still trapping her.

I like to think that if there were ever a Portal 3, or an epilogue of some kind, it would be about GlaDOS coming to terms with herself. She still feels the need to test, and cant simply abandon the facility which is her home, but maybe her ability to make mobile robots gives her a desire to make a new form. And maybe that form looks a little like the girl she just set free, as a hope for herself. And maybe by the end of it, she decides that instead of inflicting these tests on humans or robots, she can just do them herself. And maybe as she does her own tests, she learns to have an actual relationship with herself for once.

[confessedlyfannish]

Six Years Ago

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Fortunately for them, the kid isn't good at subtlety. When he appears it is usually with a delayed boom announcing his arrival, like a crack of thunder to his lightning. And a hood pulled low over someone's face doesn't mean much when there's only one preteen in the world who can blow a fire out with his bare breath while floating in midair.

Unfortunately for them the kid is fast, see aforementioned "sonic boom". That is not to say Danny could not follow him anyway, but after the eighth time he heads to one of the kid's rescues and he flees before Danny can get a word out, Ellie is sitting at his kitchen counter heating up his leftovers.

"You need to cool it," she says, using her fang to pop open a sapporo. "He doesn't want to be found right now."

"Yeah, I got that." Danny says, swiping the beer out of the hands of what is technically a fourteen year old. She shoots him a scowl as the microwave dings.

"He's a child, and he's sick, Ellie." Even if Frostbite hadn't said as much, it hasn't escaped Danny's notice that in the past two months his speed has ever so slightly slowed. A particularly brave emergency worker had scolded Phantom for scaring him off this time around, concerned about his thin wrists.

"Gee, a sick child runaway, I wonder who that reminds me of," she says, tapping at her chin. She douses the chicken lo mein in sriracha.

"That's different. You knew to come find me, when it got bad. This kid is afraid of me." And he was. Whenever he and Danny met eyes the kid would go pale(r) with fear before zipping away.

"So make him less afraid."

Danny gapes at her. "Gee," he says slowly, a mimicry of her earlier sarcasm. "Why didn't I think of that."

"You're literally stalking the kid right now, you think I don't know about Tucker's alert system? Right now you must seem like the boss monster that shows up at the end of the level," Ellie says. "You need to approach this differently. Go slow, the way you did with me." She pauses, mouth twisting in a way that signals she's about to be reluctantly vulnerable with him.

"I didn't know what it was like to be...cared about. Properly. Before you guys. Even with the memories," she taps her head with the chopsticks, "It didn't click. But you showed me you would be there for me, even as you respected that I needed my space. You taught me how to trust you."

Danny takes a lengthy pull from the bottle he's still holding. "I can't be patient with him, Ellie," he says. He fiddles with the edge of the peeling label. "He's going to get worse."

"Yeah." Ellie says. "And I think you should let him."

---

The first time the backpack appears, Jon takes one look at the post-it with the scribbled stylized D and ":)" on it and tosses the whole thing in the trash before taking off.

He does the same the next four times, even as the backpack gets bulkier, its contents crashing together as it hits the nearest available dumpster.

He's in New York City after he saves a window washer from falling twenty stories when he sees his face plastered on a Times Square billboard. A hotdog stand owner in New York City offers him one on the house which he reluctantly accepts, trying to ignore the man's searching gaze.

He's not an idiot. He knows he's starting to look like crap, if the way the people react when they see him means anything. It's not like he smells, he regularly bathes in clean streams and lakes, but even when he eats coconuts and mangos and wild raspberries until his stomach is bursting and he has spent the last five minutes petting a giraffe on the head, feeling so giddy he almost forgets how his family is gone—he feels...strange. Weaker. The cuts on his side and face from the evil robot with the green eyes have slowly scarred pink, and they still pull and sting if he stretches. Jon's never had a scar before, and now he has six. And he's losing weight.

A lot of the people he meets have been super nice about it, offering him food and, in a particularly cold area of Alaska, a zip up hoodie he now wears over his recognizable family crest. Not that doing so has stopped the white-haired guy from finding him. But it has allowed Jon to move around more freely when he isn't out rescuing people. He even made some cash in Wisconsin cleaning up a grocery store before the night shift manager had recognized his face.

This and the billboard means he stops to buy a pair of cheap glasses and a large t-shirt with the NYC skyline and shorts on it from a tourist shop. After, he takes a bus to New Jersey with the last of his money and changes in the bathroom. He bites back a sniffle when he peels his superhero costume from his body. He's suddenly overcome, poking a finger through the slashes in the side, and spends the rest of the trip with his head buried in his knees, trying to keep his hiccups quiet.

When he exits, he heads to the library he's already visited three times before. It's bad, to develop a routine like this when he is actively being hunted, but he can't help himself any more than he can help the way he sometimes sleeps in that barn in Kansas, the few times he feels like he can actually rest, surrounded by the familiar smell of animal and hay.

As he searches a few more terms that predictably turn up nothing on the public computer, he notes bitterly it's not like the man can't find him anyway. Just because he's backed off doesn't mean he isn't around, silently threatening Jon with randomly appearing backpacks. Each backpack is different too, as if Jon might be taking issue with the color purple rather than the scary guy providing them.

Jon pushes away from desk, waiting for the inevitable wave of despair that hits him after each Google session proves fruitless. He's even, in one moment of lunacy, searched Talia Al Ghul, thinking if anyone can find him after his search pings her servers it's her—

But she never did come.

No one has.

Except for him.

The wave today is muted, lapping at his ankles rather than bowling him over, and somehow the resignation that accompanies it hurts more. He wants to do something, anything, and so he scoots back to the cubicle and types in white haired flying man, d symbol.

This is the first time he learns about Phantom.

---

The boy has started taking the backpacks.

Each one is filled with fresh meals in glass tupperware, meant to last for a while even without refrigeration (though with the boy's ice breath, maybe it's not a problem), as well as ziploc baggies filled with pretzels and carrots and goldfish and celery sticks.

("no peanut butter, he might have a nut allergy!"

"Wouldn't that have come up in Frostbite's scan?"

"You think Frostbite would've thought amidst scanning a little boy's half-alien body to check for a peanut allergy?"

"...Fair enough")

Alongside the meals are cash in the form of U.S. dollars, pounds, euros, yen, yuan, and an extreme hail mary in the form of an ATM card that Ellie rolls her eyes at every time Danny packs it.

There is also a miniature first aid kit, sans medicine but including ice and heat packs you can shake to activate. Danny wedges folded clothing in the spare edges of the bag, a blanket, and forces the zipper closed over a pair of high top sneakers similar to the ragged ones the boy wears. He tops every one with the same post-it drawing of his symbol, and a smiley face.

The boy is still weakening, beginning to look like a strong wind could blow him over even as he zips through mudslides in Colombia and scoops a father and son out of a rip current in Italy, but as he accepts the backpacks Danny listens to Ellie and waits.

And then one day Danny is watching him push a bus away from the edge of a sinkhole in Mexico, school kids pressed against the rear windshield watching him, and Danny hears the creaking of his bone right before the kid's arm snaps.

"Okay, fuck this," Danny says into the Fenton comms as the child wails, swooping down to grab the boy with one arm and the bus with the other.

The boy is too stunned to react, sobbing with pain as he cradles his arm protectively, and Danny shamelessly takes advantage of that as he gently but hurriedly places the bus beside the crowd of spectators.

A very small woman who immediately beelined for him as he landed smacks him in the shoulder, hissing at him in Spanish while several people try to hold her back. She smacks him again.

"I'm trying to help him. I promise. Ayuda." Danny says, shifting the boy into a more comfortable bridal carry.

"Ayuda? Help? You, you bad! El pobre niño." The woman sneers. "Bad! ¡Mal Fantasma! ¡Eres un padre horrible!"

Danny knows what padre means, and even if he didn't, he's heard the rumors and conspiracies (and maybe even leveraged them in a conversation with the U.S. government, who can say) and he doesn't bother denying it, because the truth is he has let this child down from the moment he allowed him to be hunted on Skulker's island, and he deserves every nasty word and more.

"Yeah. I know," he tells the woman. In his ear, Sam demands to know what's happening. The boy is incoherent with pain, the outline of the bone pressing against his skin.

"It's going to be okay," Danny tells him, lifting off the ground. Regret is sour in his gut, bile on his tongue. What was he thinking? In the curl of his arms, the child is so small. This isn't a stray cat one coaxes into their home. This is a terrified little boy.

Danny isn't a fourteen-year-old too young and stupid to recognize he shouldn't let a two-month-old clone explore the world with his blessing. He's twenty-eight. He needs to get a grip.

He needs to be better.

The world stops. Everything goes quiet.

A blue portal unwinds via the hands of time.

"I see you're ready now." Clockwork says to him.

Danny wants to deny it, but the words are stuck in his throat. What use is denying what Clockwork already knows to be true?

"This is the right choice, Danny. Everything will be as it should be. Help him," Clockwork nods at the child. "Then find me."

Danny's tongue unsticks from his mouth. "Only if you tell me. If I do this, will he be safe? Will I have the power to protect him?" An echo of what waits to be unlocked drapes over his words, cracks appearing in the ground at his feet. "Tell me."

"Yes. You will keep him safe. Until he no longer needs you to do so. Here."

With a wave of his staff, a neon green portal rends through the air.

Clockwork drifts back to his own portal. "I will see you in Time, Danny."

Danny nods at him as he leaves, feeling a contract snap into place as time restarts at a crawl.

"Shh kiddo," he says as the boy, gradually unfreezing, trickles tears. "I've got you. You'll be okay. I'm going to fix this. I promise."

He steps through the portal, towards whatever comes next.

Part 5

[catastrophic-crisis]

Hello,

My name is Mohammed from Gaza. I am not a robot or a scammer. Due to the war in Gaza, I lost my mother, father, and brothers, and I sustained severe injuries to my leg. I appeal to you to protect my children and take them out of Gaza and help me complete my treatment abroad because my leg is at risk of amputation due to the lack of necessary treatment 😭. My wife is suffering from uterine cancer and hasn't received a chemotherapy session since the beginning of the events in Gaza. I humbly request a donation of €5 or more to treat my leg, my wife, and my innocent children.

Every passing minute threatens me with losing my leg, my wife, or my children.

My campaign has been documented and my data verified, and you can verify my story by requesting any information you need. Please donate and share my story.

My wife, children, and I are waiting for your donations.

Thank you very much. 🙏🙏

Mr. Al Manasra is looking to take his wife and three young children (6 years old and under) across the border with Egypt and secure medical treatment.

His previous GoFundMe campaign was part of the Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser list by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi, number 192, and was shut down, bringing the goal back to zero. Here is an additional informative post by @/riding-with-the-wild-hunt, and below is the GoFundMe campaign. As of writing, the campaign is at $6,497 CAD raised out of of the $50,000 goal.

[oceantornadoo]

reunited at the yoga studio

simon left without a word three years ago, and now he was here at the yoga class you taught.

angsty, no smut (unfortunately), hurt and comfort, slightly fluffy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“come on, l.t., it’ll be fun. plus, we’re already here.” soap urged ghost into the yoga studio with vigor, eager to make his lieutenant loosen up. “she’s a 70 years old lass with the flexibility of a damn olympian, you have to meet her.” for the past three weeks they had been on leave, soap had been ranting about his new favorite yoga teacher, a lady named marcia who taught a class on releasing physical trauma. finally, finally, he had convinced ghost to come with, who had relented only out of pure curiosity. they walked in, ghost wearing a clinical mask on the bottom half of his face. the teacher wasn’t there to greet them, uncommon but not unheard of, and ghost urged them to place their mats in the back, wanting a quick escape if needed. he followed soap’s routine, taking off his shoes and readying his water bottle. and then, you walked in.

“hi everyone! i’m covering for marcia, she had a last minute emergency, nothing to worry about. let’s get started, yeah?” ghost was reeling. you were here, and you were a yoga teacher? he hadn’t seen you in three years, memories of that terrible breakup coming to mind. his heart started pounding and his fingers itched to move, but that would only draw further attention to him. he resolved to be as quiet as a mouse, viewing this as a stealth mission instead of a yoga class. soap noticed immediately but said nothing, figuring it was because of the amount of people instead of a specific person. 

you led the 45 minute class with confidence, noting ghost’s shyness but not noticing him. plenty of people were uncomfortable doing yoga, so you wrote it off as another shy participant and moved on. as the class ended, you had everyone stand facing you, and finally noticed. those dark brown eyes, that dark blonde-brown hair slightly grown out from his military buzzcut. the breadth of his shoulders, breathing slightly with exertion from the end of the class. he locked eyes with you as you whispered “namaste”, all the air rushing out of your lungs like a punch to the gut. people were moving, coming up to you as you thanked them robotically, your eyes locked on ghost’s form. the class cleared out but he was taking his time putting on his shoes on the ground, a man you figured was his friend waiting patiently beside him. you marched towards him like you were walking through water, each step harder and harder to take. 

ghost knew he couldn’t ignore you any longer, couldn’t make a quick getaway as he had waited too long. he could have put his shoes on faster but had stayed, whether it was to self-flagellate or out of morbid curiosity, he didn’t know. he felt like he was watching himself from above, seeing you approach him like you would a wild animal. he readied himself for battle, muttering to soap that he would see him later. soap cleared the room, brows knitting in confusion at the scene. finally, ghost turned his head up at you, making peace with the pain that was sure to follow. he was always one step from death, but somehow this felt harder. 

“since when are you a yoga teacher?” he spoke first, wanting to break the ice.

“a lot can change in three years, simon. you would know.” you said, all bark no bite. you took a seat in front of him on the floor, thankful that you were done with classes for the day. you’d need a lot of recovery time after this.

“no one’s called me that in a long time. good for you, dove.”

“no one has called me that in a long time too. you’re a blast from the past.” he was nervous, hands running through his hair as he tried to maintain eye contact. ghost didn’t get overwhelmed, couldn’t afford it on the battlefield, but simon did. you always did manage to bring simon to the surface, with your fleeting smiles and gentle words.

“i’m s-”

“what are-”

you both stopped and gave a short laugh. you gestured at him, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“i’m sorry for the way i left. you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve anything i did, dove.” his comment took you off guard. the simon you knew, the simon you had dated for two years before he left in that night, never apologized. he had never taken accountability for the way he made you feel, with his gruff words and long silences. 

“oh. thank you, that actually means a lot. what are you doing here?”

“soap’s tryin’ get me out of the house, kept going on and on about his teacher marcia. imagine my surprise when you walked through that door instead.” you laughed despite yourself, remembering how much of a homebody simon had been. you had always been pleading him to go out, take you on a date, anything. some things never changed. you fidgeted and, without meaning to, glanced at his left hand. bare.

“‘m not married. if you were wonderin’.” simon was gaining more courage now. you hadn’t yelled or hit him yet, so he figured time had healed some of your wounds. he took off his mask and slipped it into his pocket, never afraid to show his face around you, even years later. you gave him a shy smile, embarrassed you had been caught looking. he noticed your hand was bare as well, but he wanted to make sure before he got his hopes up. 

“are you? attached?” 

“no, i-, i’m not. i was dating this guy for a year but we broke up when i wanted to get married and he didn’t.” 

“bastard. i should have been the only stupid guy to leave you.” he was trying to lighten the mood, but you still had a burning question you needed to know. you had moved on from the past, figuring he had his own reasons, but the hurt still lingered. the voice in the back of your head still told you you were unlovable, someone no one wanted to stay with forever.

“why did you? leave me, i mean.” the mood dropped, the air tense with anticipation. you had wanted to know for years as the nights of almost drunk texting him were too many to count. you straightened your spine, projecting confidence as his slowly faded, his eyes searching the ground. simon was a big man, huge even, but in that moment he looked so small.

“it was never about you, i want you to know that. that night, i-. it was too real. we had just had that date, and i almost asked you to marry me right there. i couldn’t do it. knew you’d be tied to me forever, and that some day i’d break your heart. turn into my father or go m.i.a., who knows. so i decided to do it then, when i still had control. worst decision of my life, love.” he locked eyes with you as he said his last sentence, emotion swimming behind his eyes. simon had never communicated with you like this, willingly telling you about his thoughts and feelings. you could sense the change in him, more mature and self-assured than he had been three years ago. unshed tears gathered in your eyes, bringing back all those feelings of hopelessness and abandonment that had haunted you in the months after. the sleepless nights wearing his t shirt, the smell of him slowly fading until you donated it.

simon was hurting, aching. he was trying so hard, using all of those tools the base psychiatrist had talked to him about over the years. the man he had been three years ago was fully ghost, consumed by fear and hiding it well, until he broke down and left. now he knew how to separate the two, how to take off the mask and let simon come out. now, he was some semblance of a real man, no longer broken by the crippling shadow of his father. there had been a few girls in the years after the breakup, barracks bunnies and friends with benefits, but no one as ever serious as you. seeing you here was a sign that all his hard work had been for something. and finding out you were single? he couldn’t let you get away again.

“let me take you out, on a real date. let me make everything up.” suddenly he was pleading, hand stroking your face as you shed tears at his words. “i’m not afraid anymore.” he said quietly, sacred words in the peace of the yoga studio. your head snapped up, anger clouding your judgement.

“how can you say that? how can you promise that? after what you did? i was distraught, simon. i thought you cheated, had a secret wife or something. something to explain how you just left, left us.”

“there’s no one else, dove. there never was. it was just me and my past. i haven’t loved anyone since i started loving you.” loving. as in present tense. you locked eyes with him, tears drying as you cleared your throat.

“loving?”

“loving. i’m a better man now. let me show you, please.” he stood up, offering his hand to you to help you up. you stood up and he didn’t drop your hand, instead giving it a short squeeze. simon was still as breathtaking as he was the day he left, even more now with more wrinkles and scars on him. he was cool and confident, and suddenly you wanted to know everything about this new man in front of you. the one who insinuated he still loved you. the one who shattered your heart and was here three years later, offering to mend it with bare hands and that damn british accent. 

“coffee?” you waited, long enough to make him itch. just to get back a little.

“okay.”