#I hate that we know so fucking little about medicine

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀 🔀

120 or 1k for 🔀:

---

Evan doesn’t really understand. They said his bone marrow was supposed to heal him. But it made him very sick, very fast. He dies quicker after it than he would have without it. 

Evan doesn’t understand. But his brother is dead.  

His brother is dead, and his mother hates him. She screams at him. 

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WEREN��T RIGHT! YOU’RE NOT HIM! YOU’RE NOT HIM AND YOU KILLED MY SONS!” 

She screams at him until he’s sobbing. Until Maddie has to pick him up and take him away from her. Until the doctors have to give her medicine that makes her sleepy. 

She never says it again after that. Doesn’t dare. Evan thinks it’s because she’s scared of how his dad will react; he thinks she’s lost her mind. But even if she doesn’t say it again, Evan never forgets. He never forgets what she accused him of. And he never, not once, feels like she loves him. Not for a second. 

2025

i. 

The skin on Buck’s stomach is burning. It feels like he’s developed a rash or heat blisters all of a sudden. The blade the imposter is holding against him hasn’t broken skin. It hasn’t even ripped his shirt. The point is just pressing into his stomach. He doesn’t know why his body is reacting so viscerally to it, nevertheless.

“Okay, hold up,” Buck pleads to the younger, rougher-looking version of himself.

“Shut up,” he snaps. His voice is a little different than Buck’s. “Take careful, slow steps back into your apartment. Don’t try anything.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees. He does as he’s told. He walks backwards into the loft, the imposter matching his steps. He closes the door behind him. 

Buck turns his head to look at Bobby and Athena. Bobby is rigid, wide-eyed and furious. Athena’s eyes are on her purse, on Buck’s counter. Did she bring her gun? No, right. She doesn’t bring her gun around in her purse. But maybe something? Something that can help?

“Who are these people?” The imposter demands. “Are they like you?”

“Like me?” Buck asks. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t play stupid,” the imposter nearly growls. “I know you can’t lie. I won’t fall for any tricks.”

Okay… So he’s crazy. Like crazy. 

“No one is trying to trick you,” Bobby says. “My name is Bobby. This is my wife, Athena. We’re just friends of Buck’s, okay? That’s all.” 

The imposter’s eyes narrow. “Buck?” 

Buck nods. “That’s my name. My nickname.”

The imposter wrinkles his nose. “That’s stupid.”

Well? Fuck. Okay then. Hold him at knife point and tell him his name sucks. Great. 

“What do we call you?” Athena asks calmly.

“My name is Evan,” he says.

“Okay,” Athena replies. “Evan. You came here because you want something, right? What is it that you want?”

“I want my life back!” He shouts, pressing the blade a bit more firmly. “You stole my life. My family. Give it back.”

“Uh…” Buck struggles. He’s wincing from the pain. “I-I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Evan, the imposter, narrows his eyes. “Yes. Yes, you do.”

“Something very strange has happened,” Bobby says. “We’re just learning about it. We don’t have any details, but maybe you do? Maybe you can help? Fill us in?”

“Why would I help you?” He demands. 

“Because we’re all confused, I think,” Athena says. “It sounds like you’re confused, too.”

“I’m not,” the imposter snaps. “I’m not confused! You stole me from my family and took my life! I was just a kid!”

Buck emits a low grunt of pain. It feels like a hot poker is being held to his skin. And, beyond that, he feels like he’s having some sort of nightmare. This is his story. His trauma. The thing that happened to him. He didn’t do it. He’s not the cause.

[bunnycvnts]

new bf! rafe that is slowly, very very slowly, getting used to having a girlfriend that cares about him !!

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

rafe was having a particularly rough day with ward screaming at him to be a better man and running out of gas three blocks from tannyhill, so when you came over that night, his attitude was at an all-time high.

every little thing was ticking him off. from the way his collared shirt was sitting against his skin to the crickets chirping outside, and to the way the tv was far too loud considering how close you were sitting. he was overstimulated, annoyed, and really just needed a fucking break.

when you got up to get a glass of water and your heels clacked against the wood floor, he sort of lost it. “can you- seriously? take the fucking shoes off.”

you paused at the entrance of the living room, your eyebrows furrowing as you turned around slowly to look at your boyfriend. “what?” you weren’t upset; you were just thoroughly confused about his outburst. you’d been together for three months now and had seen your fair share of him being dramatic or moody, but it was rarely ever pointed towards you.

“the heels, they’re driving me fucking nuts, clicking and clacking through the house, and the tv?” he paused to gesture angrily at the screen, “why is it so fucking loud? you’re sitting like six feet away from it.”

your teeth sunk into your lower lip, quickly slipping off your heels and heading back towards rafe, your feet now padding lightly against the floor, almost silently. “is everything okay?” the remote sat in your hand as you spoke, muting the tv effectively. you eyed him cautiously, now noticing the way his hands were fidgeting and his knee wouldnt stop bouncing.

his face scrunched. “yes, everything’s okay; that shits just mad annoying, babe. it’s giving me a fuckin’ headache.” your hand reached out to rub his arm soothingly.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know. how about we go to your room? it’ll be quieter, and you can change out of your clothes from today. i can go home too if you’d prefer. it’s okay.” your words were chosen carefully, bordering on demanding, and you tried to refrain from any tone that sounded condescending. it was easy to spot that he was overstimulated, and you only wanted to help.

“ye-yeah, yeah. let’s go to my room. don’t leave; why would you leave? i told you everything’s fine.” he didn’t know why you were acting this way, and it made his stomach feel weird. you guided him by his hand up the stairs and to his bedroom, speaking quietly as you went.

“i just know you need a minute, baby. that’s all. know you need some peace and quiet. maybe a nap. will help you feel better, promise.” he paused on the stairs at your words, but your hand tugged at his, making him regain movement.

once you both reached his bedroom, you pulled out some gym shorts and a loose t shirt for him to change into, shoving them into his hands. “here, put these on!” you smiled up at him before moving to his bedside table, where he kept matches. lighting one, you held it to a candle you had bought him a few weeks ago. he had noted how great the scent was but felt it was too girly for him to buy a candle— and he wasn’t girly. so, you took it upon yourself to buy it, and the trimmed wick and melted down wax covering the sides didn’t go unnoticed.

rafe changed quickly and leaned against the wall to watch you. the way you moved so efficiently and effortlessly through his room made his heart beat a little faster. you didn’t have to ask where he kept leisure clothes or the matches. you didn’t think twice before pulling the blanket up from the made bed and fluffing the pillows for him. you didn’t even need him to tell you that he hated sleeping with the top sheet, as you knowingly kept it tucked into the mattress. just watching you made his headache lessen, and he didn’t fight when you pulled him off the wall and helped him get situated in his bed.

“do you want some water or medicine?” his head shook at your question, denying it. all he felt like he needed was you. no one had ever paid so much attention to him or knew what made him feel better or worse. no one had taken the time or given the effort to care so lovingly for him. so when you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand running through his hair gently, all he could do was open his arms to gesture you closer. the blonde shuffled even closer to you, resting his head on your stomach, so you could continue massaging his head and playing with his hair.

“nah, just my girl.”

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

ok this is my first writing post pls be nice

taglist: @sunkissedrafe

[literary-lesbo]

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵

ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ! ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ

𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

♡ "can you please come get me?"

♡ "hey, don't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

♡ "no, don't cry, I hate it when you cry"

♡ "you look sad"

♡ "oh god, you're bleeding"

♡ "I could just use a hug"

♡ "don't touch me"

♡ "it's okay, just breathe"

♡ "I'll stay for as long as you need"

♡ "you can trust me"

♡ "can I touch you? is that okay?"

♡ "you don't need to apologize, ever"

♡ "hey, hey, you're alright! it's okay, just calm down"

♡ "shh, shh, you're okay now"

♡ "here, hold my hand"

♡ "there's no shame in crying, I promise"

♡ "are you crying?"

♡ "you are what's important right now"

♡ "I've got nowhere else to be"

♡ "I'm at the hospital"

𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

♡ "I don't want to die"

♡ "I was only using you"

♡ "stay away from me"

♡ "why am I always your second choice?"

♡ "we almost made it"

♡ "leave I don't want to see you"

♡ "why are you helping a monster?"

♡ "I'm barely holding on"

♡ "can I leave now?"

♡ "I guess that's just how little I meant to you"

♡ "I just want to know you care about me"

♡ "stop looking at me like I'm damaged goods"

♡ "there's no us and there never was"

♡ "you deserve so much better"

♡ "don't do this here"

♡ "am I too late?"

♡ "say something, just fucking say something"

♡ "I know. I know I wasn't enough. I always did"

♡ "I did care, I used to care"

𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

♡ "shh, stop fussing. I'm just braiding your hair"

♡ "can I borrow your sweater? it smells like you"

♡ "you're my new pillow"

♡ "I'll be here to protect you"

♡ "it's okay, I couldn't sleep anyway"

♡ "you make me so happy"

♡ "aww, you're blushing"

♡ "wait...is this a date?"

♡ "can I kiss you?"

♡ "I'm glad you came"

♡ "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"

♡ "thank you for being her for me"

♡ "you're so pretty when you first wake up"

♡ "I want you to stay, please"

♡ "dance with me"

♡ "your eyes are so pretty"

♡ "is someone sleepy?"

♡ "can I kiss you?"

♡ "you're so warm"

♡ "this/these are my favorite"

𝘚𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘧𝘪𝘤

♡ “you’re sure I’m sick?  ‘cause I feel fine”

♡  “I really cannot be sick right now”

♡  “everyone gets colds.  I’ll live”

♡  “I really hope this is just my allergies”

♡  “stop thinking so loud; my head hurts”

♡ "I'm scared"

♡ "I can't even talk properly"

♡  "I feel like I'm letting everyone down"

♡ "you're making a big deal out of nothing"

♡ "I'm so tired..."

♡ "no, you're not fine. you're burning up”

♡ "you need to rest. I'll stay here with you until you feel better"

♡ “just let me take care of you"

♡ "here, take my blanket”

♡ “I’ll make some tea”

♡ “you're in no condition to go anywhere”

♡ “just rest and let your body fight this off"

♡ “take this medicine, please"

♡ "I'm here now”

♡ "right now, the only person you need to help is yourself”

[evilbirdy]

hey there. I was wondering if you Could do se-mi x fem reader Where reader is sick (high fever and bad cough) and she trys to hide it from her but se-mi noticed How you wouldnt let her kiss you and that your body felt really hot. She scolds u for not telling her and she takes Care of you.

thank you and have a Good Day or Night. Im sick from my brother and Girl i need se-mi to take Care of me😭😭

i can’t care about anything but you

now playing ~ lovefool by the cardigans

se-mi x fem!reader

As someone who also sick right now, we all need a fic of Se-Mi taking care of us. I might make this a little “Se-mi taking care of sick! reader” series in the future

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated flu season, you have a weak immune system and always ended up getting symptoms if you are around sick people. You were lying in your bedroom right now, buried in a pile of blankets. Your heated is turned on, the windows are closed, your humidifier had a cool, minty scent. Nothing was helping, you had three round of Nyquill already.

A loud cough rang through the room, you cringe as your throat burned. You ached as you got up from the bed. The small journey from your bedroom to your kitchen was difficult, your feet felt so frozen that it hurts with every step, the drowsiness from your medicine made you dizzy.

You grab some leftover soup that your friend Young-sik’s mother dropped off for you. You leaned onto the counter and was about to drift off to sleep until you heard your doorbell ring.

You jumped and looked through the keyhole, your girlfriend; Se-Mi enters your view

Oh fuck

You threw off your blanket, laying it on the couch. You wipe the sweat from your forehead before opening the door.

You let out a soft smile, choking back the cough in your throat. “Hey baby, what are you doing here?” you hum, leaning against the door. She smirks and walk into your apartment. “Why does it feel like a sauna in here?” she took off her jacket, hanging it next the door, “You know it’s about above 20 outside, babe,” she sat at your kitchen table, smelling the air.

“Soup? you barely even eat soup,” she gives a questionably look. You hummed, taking the soup out of the microwave. “Ms. Jang gave it to me, she knows I barely cook and wants to make sure I eat, I feel too guilty by not eating her food,” you sat across from her eating the soup. The soup cooled the scratching sensation in your throat and cleared your nostrils for a second.

She chuckled lowly and gets up to walk over to you. She leaned down and was about to give you a kiss but you back away.

She gives you a small confused look, side-eyeing you. “Ohh umm I was still swallowing the soup, that would have been an awkward kiss,” you tried to laugh it off and quickly ate more soup. Se- mi clicked her tongue before tucking her hand under your chin and lifted your head up. She pressed the back of her hand on your face.

“You’re hot,” she murmured, her hand moving to your face. “Oh thank you,” you tried to laugh but seen her stern face by stopping and looking down. “How long have you been sick?” you sigh, looking back up. “Only for about…a week..,” Se-mi’s eyes widen slightly before picking up and bringing you to bed.

“What made you think it was a good idea to keep this from me, huh? I could have gotten you better earlier,” she tucks you in the bed, grabbing you some medication. She laid it all on your side table and went into the drawer, getting a thermometer.

“I *cough* didn’t want to *cough* *cough* worry you,” You tried to sit up but she urges you to stay lying down. “No no, lay down baby, you don’t have to lift my finger anymore,” she grabs a tissue, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Ahh *sneeze* aren’t I so lucky, thank you, can you grab my soup,” she nods, going to the kitchen and bringing you your soup. She helps you sit up and place the soup in front of you.

“I don’t want you to get sick baby,” she shakes her head and sits next to you. “I would rather be suffering in this bed with you than be anywhere else right now,” she kisses you lightly on the lips and tucks your hair back.

“Wove you,” your voice gotten all nasally, you violently sniff. “Wove you too,” she laughs, mocking you, she leans in again but you lightly push her back.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Roadtrips and Relaxing (18+!!)

Old Man Logan X F!Reader

A/N: I just want him to use me

Plot: You and Logan are out on a roadtrip trying to find more medicine for Charles. Logan is stressed, and you know exactly how to help him.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, a lil porn with plot, established relationship, Unprotected PiV, public bathroom sex, Oral (M recieving), ya'll fuck nasty, Logan is subby at first but immediately becomes a dom after bc he can't give up control for long, rough sex, a lil fluff at the end. Reader is female, and a former doctor. Ya'll are in love , logan uses pet names and one (1) derogatory term

Word Count: 3234

These trips were always exhausting. 

You and Logan were out, traveling miles upon miles through country and desert, in the search of medicine for Charles. You had left Caliban to take care of him, a job that usually belonged to you, while you went with Logan this time to retrieve the medicine. You hit a speed bump though, as your usual source- a sketchy clinic that didn’t require prescriptions had been burned down to the ground, with no signs of a possible reopening, contacting of the owners, or a relocation. 

You were a doctor yourself, but due to the fact that you were hiding out with Logan and Charles, and the fact that you weren’t working in a valid medical practice, meant you couldn’t write prescriptions- unless you wanted a pharmacy to call the police on you. It did mean that you knew exactly how to take care of Charles, what to give him to control his seizures, and you even have tested out different mixes of medicine that Logan acquired, stuff that has helped Charles greatly, but doesn’t stop his declining state which broke your heart. 

Now, with your usual source for drugs gone, you and Logan were on a search for something else. Clinics, dealers, they pop up, come and go, making it tricky for you to find an actual source. Logan was getting stressed. It's been a few days, and you both knew that what was left behind for Charles was running out which meant you needed to find something soon.

“We need gas.” Logan mutters under his breath. You looked at him, as he flipped on the turn signal- spotting a gas station that looked like it was part diner as well. You saw his hands tensing, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the veins popping out along his scarred hands. He pulled up along a gas pump and put the limo into park, leaning back in his seat with a hard groan as he tipped his head back against the headrest. 

You admired his aging face. His salt and pepper hair and beard, his nose- sculpted like a Greek god, his lips, which you rarely saw a smile appear on, but when you did felt like you were blessed by the heavens. He constantly demeans himself whenever you two are together, telling you that you shouldn’t be with an old man like him. You, on the other hand, truly believed he was your soulmate. It didn’t matter how old he was, how cranky he would get, you loved him to pieces and you hated seeing the stress on his face, the tension he carries in his shoulders. You did everything you could to help him, both as a lover and as a doctor. You could not, however, stop the adamantium from slowly poisoning his body. 

“Lo. It’s okay. We’ll find somewhere.” You say softly, reaching out to put a hand over his, that was resting on the console. “You need to relax a little, maybe I can drive for a bit-” 

He moved his hand away, a scowl on his face as he didn't look at you. Pushing the driver's side door open, stepping out of the limo with a clear ache in his body, before slamming it shut. You sighed as you sat in it alone. You never took it personally when he got like this- although you certainly made sure he heard about it later when his mood picked up, and you’d get rewarded with sweet kisses all over your body as he apologizes, thanking you for dealing with him. 

You knew he needed to relax. Even if it’s just for a few minutes but you also knew that you would not be able to talk to him when he gets like this. Stubborn, bull-headed. He gets in his own head, determined to do things his way, and take care of everyone. Be the hero. Normally, he’s fairly receptive to you- your opinions and suggestions. You both have been on the road for awhile, barely any sleep, chasing leads that end nowhere. You knew he had to be exhausted, and aching. 

There was only one way to get him to relax.

You looked at the gas station- part dinner. Didn’t look like a shabby place actually, with only a few people inside either eating or perusing the snack aisles. You pushed open your door, stepped out, and walked to the building; knowing Logan was watching you as you walked away, not even looking back at him- knowing it’ll irritate him but that’s exactly what you wanted.

You stepped inside, going towards the back of the building, and finding the bathrooms. You went to the one marked women, stepping inside, glad to see it was a single-person bathroom. You locked the door behind you, stepping to the mirror as you fixed your appearance up, washed your hands. Now, you just need to wait. 

You knew it would be a few minutes before Logan came to look for you. He’d pick up that you were gone longer than you usually were, wonder if you were pissed and come in to get you. 

It was about 5 minutes later when you heard him knock on the door.

“Baby?” He called, voice low and gruff. “Are you there?” 

You unlocked the door, pulling it open, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him inside- as you pushed the door shut, turning the lock, and immediately pressed your lips against yours as you pushed him against the door. 

He grunted as he bumped into the wooden door, kissing you back eagerly as his hands went to hold your hips, bringing you against his as he ran his tongue over your mouth, eager to be invited in. Making out though, was not your plan. 

Harsh pants echoed in the small bathroom as you pulled away from him, instead opting to kiss his neck, nipping at the flesh that made him groan. Your hands slide down his chest, down to his belt buckle, as you quickly undo it, the belt clinking. You unzipped his pants, and moved down onto your knees, as you tugged his slacks down pulling out his semi-hard staff. You always admired his length, it didn’t matter if he was soft or hard- the sight of him just made your mouth water.

“Princess- fuck.” He groaned, as you licked a long stripe from his base to his tip, stroking him as you felt him grow harder in your palm, his tip growing redder and leaking with each stroke, using his pre-cum as a lubricant that made slick noises through the bathroom.

You brought him up to your lips, kissing the slit of his tip, then moving downwards, pressing soft kisses all the way down his shaft, down to his balls, making him groan, twitching in your hand as he became more and more desperate for your warm mouth around him.  “Come on bub, quit the teasing.” He groans, his hand going to your head, intertwining in your hair. You smiled against his cock, pressing him against your cheek as you looked up at him with wide eyes. He groaned at the sight, biting down on his inner cheek as his hand came down to stroke your face. “Goddamn you’re so beautiful.” He mutters, making you smile bigger.

“Gotta relax, tough guy.” You say softly, before you lean back, and slowly take his tip between your lips. You hummed at the taste of him, closing your eyes and leaned further in, taking more of his throbbing length into your mouth. He let out a guttural moan, tipping his head back, as his hand moved back into your hair. You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, and you pushed down more, swallowing him with each inch until you felt his coarse hair against your nose. Your eyes watered by the size of him in your mouth; over time you had learned ways to accommodate his large member inside you, making sure he feels every bit of pleasure you could possibly give him. 

“Come on baby, please” he whined softly under his breath. You moved back, pulling out from your mouth, a small gasp as you looked down at his length, now thoroughly soaked through with your spit, a long string of saliva connecting him to your lips. You gave him a few hard strokes with your hand before you took him back in your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down, stroking his base with what you don’t take in, every few strokes you take him fully down your throat again. You could hear him panting, small whines that graced your ears, as you opened your eyes to look up at him. His teeth gritted, and pupils blown out with lust, you attempted to smile with his cock in your mouth. The action made him roll his eyes back, mouth agape as he attempted to control his breathing. You felt drool leaking out of the corner of your lips, and you continued working him over, bringing him closer and closer to his finish. You could feel his thigh tensing under your palm, so you pulled back, stroking him with your hand again, as you sucked on his tip, pressing your tongue into his slit, and looking back up at him.

“Fuck!” He cursed, his hand gripping your hair, and pulling you back onto his cock as you felt his warm release coating the back of your throat, your hands braced against his thighs as he kept his dick sheathed inside your warm mouth as he spilled inside you, his head tipped back in pure pleasure. Your eyes watered as you began to struggle to breathe, and he finally pulled back out of you roughly with a harsh grunt. You swallowed everything he gave you, as you brought your arm up to wipe your mouth clean of the drool and cum that leaked out. “Fuck, cmon, up-” He orders, grabbing your arm and pushing you up to your feet. His hand grabbed your jaw tightly, pulling you in for a deep burning kiss, before he shoves his tongue down your throat, turning into something sloppy. Pulling away, he looked down at you with fierce eyes, a scowl on his face. “I’m not done with you.” He growls.

He spun you around, pushing you against the sink. He grabbed your hands, placing them both on the sink firmly. “Keep em there and don’t fucking move till I tell you.” He mutters. 

You knew what this was about. He lost himself in you, and now he needed to regain control; so you prepped yourself, preparing to get fucked within an inch of your life. 

One hand came up, beginning to fondle your breast, as the other began shoving your pants down to your knees, before he kneeled down to pull them off of you completely. You heard a snikt! And suddenly you felt your panties fall off your body, torn to tatters by his claws. They retracted and he stood back up. 

“You’re fucking soaked darling.” He muttered into your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder, his chest pressed to your back. “Get that turned on sucking an old man like me off hmm?” 

His warm hand made contact with your mound, simply cupping it, before holding it up in front of your face. “Look how fucking soaked my hand is already, I barely even touched you.” 

You nodded, arching your back against him. “Lo please-” You whimpered. 

He brought his hand back down, his finger sliding through your folds, before making contact with your clit. You jerked at the stimulation- you were so focused on getting him off, you hadn’t realized just how wet and sensitive you’ve become yourself. He pressed your swollen bud again with just his finger, teasing you with just barely enough stimulation. 

“Lo!”

“Oh, now you don’t like the teasing huh bub?” He says raspy. You shook your head and he grinned. “Liar. You love it.” He turned to nip your ear. He finally gave in, using two fingers to rub circles against your clit, the pressure he applies to it ranging from soft to rough, between fast and slow- bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, as you felt that white-hot burning heat in your lower belly, but he pulled away- making you cry out. “Don’t worry princess.” He groaned. He took his cock in his hard, half-hard again as he stroked himself to a full erection. “Fucking filthy, you know that? Luring me in here just to suck my cock.” He growled as his arm came around your hips, pushing them back as he teased his tip at your pulsing hole. 

“Just-” You gasped as he barely pushed his tip inside you. “Wanted to make you feel good-”

“Yeah? Always trying to take care of your old man, hm?” He muttered. His feet kicked yours farther apart, forcing your legs open wider, as his other arm came around your whole body, pinning your arms to the side, and giving him full control over you. You nodded desperately, enraptured by his whole body surrounding you. All you could feel was him. “You got your wish, you made me feel real fucking good. So good that I don’t think I want to stop just yet.” He groans in your ear. “I’m gonna use you up, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl- got it?” 

You nodded desperately, your body practically trembling in anticipation. You barely had a moment to register as he thrust his whole length inside you in one moment- making you cry out as your body jumped with his thrust. You went on your tippy toes, accommodating the way his one arm practically held you up. He pressed his cheek against yours, his beard scratching against your face as you heard him grunt. You felt him so deep inside you, as your body molded around him to accommodate his size. 

“Gotta stay quiet darling. You want people to hear?” He mutters. “Probably do, coming in here and acting like a slut.” 

You moaned, and his hand came up to cover your mouth. He was a hypocrite, because he was being just as loud as you were a few moments again. Your toes curled as you felt his hips began to move, as he pulled out, and thrust back into you. You yelled against his hand- not in pain, but full pleasure. You loved when he got rough. It meant he was feeling good, able to use some of his strength that he usually couldn’t carry much anymore every day. You knew this was exactly the kind of stress relief he needed, even if he didn’t realize it himself immediately. You made a mental note to tell him that you wouldn’t mind being his stress toy. 

His thrusts were hard and rough. He started slowly, your body bouncing against his, before he picked up- pounding into you, the sound filling the bathroom and no doubt if someone were to walk by they would hear it. The sound of skin slapping against skin. You couldn’t move, squirm, nothing. Logan had his arm firmly around your waist, pinning your arms to your side, his hand covering your mouth- attempting to silence your whines and moans. 

“Fuck you’re being extra loud sweetheart.” He grunted. He pushed two fingers into your mouth. “Suck on em” He orders. “Give those pretty lips something to do and stay quiet.” You obliged, wrapping your lips around his fingers, sucking as you ran your tongue over his warm fingers, taking in the taste of him.

He growled, as his body pushed down on you, bending you over against the sink, as he fucked into you hard. His hips slammed against your ass, surely you’ll be bruised later by the pace of his skin smacking into yours. His cock stretched you out, and he angled himself to fucking against the spot that had you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back as you couldn’t even think straight, no longer able to even suck on his fingers as you began to drool, he fucked you dumb and weak. He pressed his lips against your temple, feeling the way you clenched tightly around him, signaling your impending release. 

“Come on baby, cum all over my cock-” He grunted, his hips thrusting hard into you again. “Fuck I love you-” 

That was all you needed, as your whole body tensed, and your explosive finish came to. Waves and waves of ecstasy rolled through you, squeezing around Logan almost painfully as he grunted, committing a final thrust as he spilled inside you. You both stood there, bodies attached to each other, heaving for breath, sweat beading your skin, as Logan did a few lazy thrusts, drawing out the last bits of your mutual ecstasy. He dropped his hand from your mouth, wrapping his other arm around you in a hug from behind- still inside you, as both your releases dripped down your legs. He pressed soft kisses to your cheek, down to your neck. 

“You okay princess?” He asked softly. Your body was trembling, but you were on cloud 9, as you managed to nod. He carefully pulled out of you, turning you around. You could barely feel your legs as you used the sink to balance yourself, and you brought your hands to his chest. 

“You feel better?” You hummed, running your hand soothingly over his chest, and he smiled- that rare smile that always made your heart skip. 

“Yeah princess. Thank you.” He says softly, putting a hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your cheekbone as he admired your face- you knew you had to look like a mess, drool over your lips and chin, with wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Yet he stared at you like you were the most gorgeous thing in the world. “Could’ve just said something if you wanted me so bad…” He smirks. 

“You were being an ass mister.” You tilted your head knowingly at him. He looked away a bit bashfull, 

“Yeah. I know.” He muttered, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck, an action you’ve seen him do whenever he gets embarrassed- especially after he acted like an asshole. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. You made it up to me.” You smiled up at him. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and you once again admired the man before you. You wished he’d see himself the way you saw him. Not just handsome, but compassionate, strong, someone who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He never considered himself a hero, never looked at himself as a good man, but before you, you saw a man that was doing everything he could for the people he cared for. “We’ll get through this.” You say softly, in a small attempt to provide some comfort to his mind. His face softened, and he nodded. 

“We will.” He says softly. He looked over you, you half clad figure- your bottom half was a complete mess, and he grinned once more- something about more devilish, kneeling down onto the ground before you, and taken your leg to place over his shoulder as his hands came up to cup your still shaky thigh and ass. “First though. Gotta clean you up- and even the score.”

[nemesis-writer]

[Unwanted Ransom(Chapter 4)]

Glided Lily Masterlist TW- mentions of the movie Jersey Girl

9 years ago...

I was going to a pool party for my friend's birthday, but little did I know there was someone else that was gonna be there. I bought him some new sneakers he wanted because he never shut up about them. And since, I had hand me downs, I sold them to earn enough money for the sneakers.

By the time I reached the party Daniel, the friend, approached me saying, "Hey, Xerxes thanks for coming, I thought that you were a bit too busy for this."

"Fuck nah men, I wouldn't miss this for the world." I admitted.

Everything was going smoothly until I saw a person, I thought I would never see again...

Damian.

"What the hell are you doing here, freak?" He shouted at me.

"He is my friend what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You have no friends, dipshit."

"You have no mom dumbass."

Before I had time to know what I said, a fist came toward my face. Luckily I missed it, and responded with an uppercut to his cheek. Finally a taste of his own medicine, too say I was proud of me was an understatement. Until I heard,

"Ms. WAYNE".

Fucking cocksucker had to ruin this day. I felt Mr Wayne grab me by the collar and escorted me out of the party. Dennis muttered a 'sorry', but no one was allowed to do anything, so I couldn't ask for help.

At home...

"Ms Wayne what were you thinking!?"

"Before you continue, it's Ms Amala."

"Don't you give me that tone."

"You don't even know my name, you just call me be your last name just with a Ms."

"You attacked your brother"

"My 'brother' slashed me in my fucking arm and you didn't do shit."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch to him he wouldn't have."

"I HATE YOU I WISH MOM NEVER MET YOU!!! "

"SO DO I YOU LITTLE SHIT, YOU AND YOUR MOM RUINED MY LIFE."

"Go fuck yourself."

With that I ran to my 'bedroom', and no words were ever exchanged between me and both Bruce and Damian. I never gave them the satisfaction of looking at them, or even apologising.

Damian oddly, left me alone, well it sends a message to any bitch in school. I didn't care for their approval, I stopped when I was 7, feeling like it was pointless to care about them.

It never though, stopped me from joining competitions. I won multiple gold trophies, certificates, medals, even participation awards. I have 3 binders full of my achievements, containing pictures with the president of music, and the presidents of the sports I had joined.

But I kept a scrap-book of all my birthdays celebrated either by Alfred, or my friends. I was grateful, but it always felt like a pity-party, I always was the Wayne outcast but the more I say that, people would think I care.

Present Time.

"Xerxes?"

"Nope, nuh uh, wrong person." I reached for Morgan only for my arm to be grabbed by Jason again.

"What the fuck happened to you! I thought you were dead."

"Xerxes Wayne is dead, you can either address me as Jinx, Jennifer, or Ms Stark."

"Xerxes-"

I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat at the rage of hearing a name, that was made to be neglected.

"Jennifer, we have been looking for you."

"Oh please"

"Bruce and Damian found your old trophies."

"I thought I told Alfred too clean up."

"The point is we miss you."

"You left me to rot with those people, the point is, now I have a life. You guys never cared about me, I was almost sent to military school for defending some autistic kid."

"Princess, I-"

"No, that ship sailed a long time ago" I ran to Morgan and carried her to our limousine, I never looked at Jason because even though he was the one that actually brought a bit of life to that place, he left us alone.

For now...

At the Wayne Manor...

Jason's POV

"Father we've got to bring her back, she is with the enemy."

"Damian, let's calm ourselves-"

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM!!!"

"We are gonna bring her back soon Damian."

"She's not gonna come back", was all I could let out. I could feel the pointed glares of everyone, even demon spawn's stare pierced.

"What do you mean? She's our family, look at us who wouldn't want this?" Dick asked me, holding his veneer pride, but truly masking guilt and confusion.

"We weren't there for her, she left us when she had a chance." I was irritated to admit it, but it was true, our little bird flew the nest and we were to negligent to realise it.

"We have to bring her back, right?" Tim, was obviously the most idiotic out of all of us, because he decides to think we are picture perfect.

"We can't live on false hope Tim." I screamed with all emotions just completely bursting forth.

"WE WILL BRING OUR SISTER BACK!!!" and with hearing that, I immediately punched Damian, to be honest, a bit too hard for my liking. The demon did deserve it, depending on how you ask.

"Jason, calm down, she'll come to her senses and come back." hearing Bruce say that, before I react I felt something sharp pierce my neck, and slowly I lost consciousness, when I turned around I saw Cassandra murmur, 'sorry'.

Then everything became black

Taglist....

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz

[oh-allie]

then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place n' have a drink or two.

dr. ratio x fem!reader

synopsis; you make veritas ratio so stupid. is he stupid enough to say 'i love you' when he just met you though? hopefully not.

part two! and then i go and spoil it all by sayin somthin stupid like....

fluff, ratio might be kinda ooc for him to fall for a love at first sight thing. but hes totally whipped for you, i tried 2 make it gen!neutral but "pretty person" just didnt sound right, inspired by frank sinatra's "something stupid."

veritas ratio is not stupid. he doesn't say stupid things, he doesn't think stupid thoughts. he'd say he hates the idea of it, if you were to ask him.

and of course a man with outstanding achievements in the fields of biology, medicine, natural theology, philosophy, mathematics, physics, and engineering wouldn’t stumble at the mere sight of a pretty girl, right? you’d think so, but here he was. mouth agape, clammy hands, and a racing heart. it’s stupid.

just cause a pretty girl happened to talk to him. though, to him, you weren't just a pretty girl. he almost thought he was hallucinating- he was about to check for signs of chemical abnormalities in his brain. it was awkward, actually, as he reached out to touch your steady hand to confirm you were real, but didn't have a game plan for what to do if you were (which you were. you are real. and you did stare at his cold fingers brushing against your knuckles.)

“are you alright, mr. ratio?” you say, a breathy chuckle escaping from your lips. you're sat across the table from him, your drink in your hand as you occasionally take sips from the chunky straw that protrudes from the cap.

all you wanted to do was approach a scholar you deeply admired, but it seems like you caught him at a bad time.

you look at him expectantly.

"um. hello?”

you consider standing up to leave, oh well, maybe you could try your luck with a letter to his assistant.

the sound of an awkward throat-clear is heard from across the table, “hi. i’m sorry, you just startled me. wha.. what do you need?” he says, straightforward and curtly. the way the tips of his ears are red and his voice cracks when he says ‘stArtled’ betray the cool demeanor he's trying to present.

“i recognized you from my booth. thought i had to take the opportunity to chat with such an esteemed man. i hope i'm not intruding too much.” you close your eyes as you take another sip, giving him a break from your intimidating gaze.

oh you, you flatter him. and you know it from the way he almost stumbles over his words and his hands get shakier as he realizes he hasn't moved them far enough away from yours to be normal.

he tries to find something, anything to say. anything to say to keep the conversation going, to flaunt his academic prowess that you approached him for, to keep you here with him, but he seems to have lost it all when you sat down.

“my apologies, i'll leave you be, then.” you say with a smirk. placing your napkin that had been resting in your lap onto the table and grabbing your drink, you give him a curt goodbye and walk out of the café.

well fuck.

he blew it. a girl so pretty he was convinced he was hallucinating her just sat by him and tried to talk to him and he blew it. he thinks about what topic he could pour himself into to distract from, what he over exaggerates to be, the biggest mistake of his life. and then his smartass brain turns back on.

he sees the neatly folded napkin you left behind, with curly red ink and blotches protruding behind the elegant folds. he grabs it and carefully unfolds it,

i was about to be late to my meeting. but i wouldn't want to miss a chance to speak with my favorite scholar.

lets link up ###-###-####

he’s quite happy he didn’t speak his mind when he first met you. you make him so stupid. almost stupid enough to blurt out ‘i'm totally in love with you’ when he just met you. he’ll be sure to set some hours aside in the evening to plan what he’ll say to you next time.

[kouzih]

Pretty boy.

Nam-gyu ( Player 124 ) x male!reader .ᐟ

warnings : has smut-ish parts, angst(?) insecure male!reader, mlm, drug/alcohol use and more stuff..

tags,, @gongyoosgf @cybrasigilism @paulilvsremus

word count: 9.1k !!

( 1/24 WHICH MEANS HAPPY NAM-GYU DAY Y'ALL!!! AAA AAA AAA sorry for the long waiting!! i wanted to make this one a bit longer than my other fics..and yeah!! hope you guys enjoy it 🫶 i'm sorry it's kinda fucked up..no proofread tho!! )

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ As you make your way home from the hospital, you look at the bags in your hand again. You were doomed to these medicines to keep your body going. You've always hated this and it's been one of the barriers preventing you from accepting yourself..as a man. A man should be strong, masculine and not dependent on anyone else. Nothing else. With an involuntary sigh, you continued on your way. The bus you were supposed to get on passed you, and although it stopped at the bus stop, you didn't quicken your steps and try to catch the bus. You weren't even upset about missing it, the cold air hitting your face made you feel more alive. The ground was wet from the recent rain, and you arrived at the stop listening to the sounds of your boots hitting the water. You reach into your coat pocket and grab your phone to check the time. Your breath makes your phone screen fog up.

Your friend's text message catches your attention and you call her to reply, knowing that she won't see your message.

After waiting a few seconds, she answers the phone and greets you. "Heyy, what's up?" "Hey. You know, the usual stuff..shitty medicines and..all.." You say the last part in a whisper, lowering your voice when you see someone else approaching your stop. "Ohhhh, hospital shit again? Man, hoe can you deal with those everyday?" "Come again?" You hear a buzzing sound from your phone and realize that she has put it on the desk and turned on speakerphone. "I'm sayingggg, you take those tasteless medicines everyday, give tests and stuff and yet..you don't heal. Like, let's be real,," Even though you knew she didn't mean what she said, you couldn't help but sigh because she was telling the truth. "Mhm." After a hum of agreement for her to continue, you glance at the other person next to you, another face you hadn’t seen before. He had one hand in his pocket as he scrolled through his phone, leaning his face on the railing of the bus stop. You couldn't really hear what your friend was saying, her voice kept breaking because she was busy with something in the back and the stranger next to you had drawn your unnecessary attention.

The stranger tilted his head to the side, letting his hair fall over his face. Using his hand in his pocket to fix his hair, then started recording a voice message. "Yeah, yeah I'll take my bus in uh.." His eyes meet yours, he lowers his phone a little and speaks again. "Do you know when next bus will come?" "In 2 minutes or so-" "In 2 minutes, like that guy said." Shaking his head slightly, he drops the voice recording, sighs and puts his phone back in his pocket, opening the front of his coat a little, causing steam to form when his hot breath meets the air.

Unable to take your eyes off him, you turn around, realizing that you have been staring at him for a long time. "Ah- sorry. I wasn't listening.." You whisper to your friend on the other end of the phone, and when you hear a laugh from her, you look down with a slightly embarrassed face. "Yeah, don't worry it was obvious, anyway." Your pupils dilate as her voice on the phone gets louder and what she says gets louder. "I was wondering if maybe we could go to a club, what do you say? We can visit the place where my friend hangs out all the time."

"A club?" Your voice must have come out louder than you intended because you hear the sound of the stranger moving next to you, so you clear your throat and continue speaking. "I mean, sure. When exactly?" You're not a person who can drink, you cannot put anything in your mouth except light things because it affects you too much. But it could still be a good way to clear your head...at least for one night to escape your problems. "This night. You don't have any plans, right?" Of course, you didn't have any plans. You couldn't really have any other plans than going to your apartment and staying there all day. "Sounds good." Before you know it, the bus has already arrived. You raise your head and take a step towards the bus, telling your friend that you will call her later. You get into the same bus with the stranger next to you and take a seat in the back. You place the medicine bag on your lap, putting your hands in the pockets of your coat. Your coat is closed enough to cover your neck and the tip of your nose, so half of your face is not visible.Your hair is slightly fluffed up from the cold air as it hangs slightly in your eyes, and with a sigh you watch the other stranger take a seat near the front.The bus is almost empty with only a handful of people.

When you come home, you reach for your keys to open the door, you hear the sound of the key turning and tiny footsteps approaching. As you close the door behind you, you feel a soft sensation around your feet accompanied by a meowing sound.

"I'm home."

You lean over and pick up your cat as you lazily toss your bags and coat aside; she always loves to greet you. You feel her head rubbing against your neck as she licks your cheeks softly, not bothering to put your shoes away as you walk towards the living room with your cat in your arms. You watch your cat as you slowly place her on the couch, spinning around and sitting down, her tail tucked under her. As a small giggle leaves you, you put your hands on your knees and stand up, heading towards the kitchen to give your pet a treat. You head towards your front door to lock it before heading into the kitchen, taking off your shoes and grabbing your coat and medicine bag. You go back to the kitchen and reach for the cat's treats from the upper cabinets. As you place some in one of the fancy iron containers you bought earlier, you notice that the cat has already come to you. You take the treat from the counter and place it in front of her, leaning back against the counter as you watch her purr and eat her treat. Remembering that you need to call your friend, you start looking for your phone in your pockets, thinking it can be on the couch, you head towards it, reach for your phone and lie down on the couch. You start driving around the house looking for him. It takes a few minutes for her to pick up, so you have to call again. Meanwhile, you've come to your room and you're already trying to decide what to wear. When you hear your friend's voice on the other end of the phone, you turn your attention back to your phone.

"Hiiii!!" "Hi there." You place your phone on your shoulder and look in your closet. Maybe you should wear something more masculine since you're going to the club. "Are you ready yet?" "Uh, not yet. But I'll be." After hearing your friend's voice of approval, the sound of a key catches your attention. She must be leaving the house.

You still hadn’t decided what to wear when she ended the call by saying she would send you the address as a location. "Okay- bye." You gently placed your phone on your bed and your eyes caught a shirt you hadn’t worn before, thinking it was too big. "I could make this work.." After whispering quietly, you start to make your outfit by checking the time, deciding to do your hair last. You played with your hands strangely as you looked in the mirror. You didn't look bad, you seemed to be in good shape. You didn't look official, but... you didn't look homeless either. You just forget about it and reach into your closet for a small hair tie, You put a small ponytail in the back of your hair. Even though it was small enough to be called a ponytail.. it looked cute. You tilted your head to the side and looked at your hair, giggling to yourself as you put the final touches on it and got ready to leave the house. You know, closing the windows.. turning off the lights and checking on your beloved cat.

When you realize that she is already asleep, your doubts are lifted for a moment, at least you won't have to worry about her anymore. You grab your keys and walk out the door, whispering a small 'goodnight' from your lips, and as you close the door you set off on your way. It was a little late, since you went to the club. When you approach the location where your friend sent, you encounter your friend near the door. She greets you by raising her hand. "Hereee!" You quicken your steps a little and come to your friend, taking your hand out of your pocket and giving her a small wave. "Did I keep you waiting?" You ask in a cheerful but low voice. Your friend, who shakes her head in refusal, fixes her hair before going inside, and you are surprised that there is no line while gesturing for you to come in as well.

You follow your friend with your arms crossed, you didn't want to get lost in a place you didn't know, even if it wasn't crowded. She left you alone to find her friend and said she'll come back, leaving you to get the drinks. You sit down in an empty seat, and as your eyes wander to the people inside, you notice that most of them are already drunk. A whistle from behind you draws your attention to the barista in front of you, who was looking at you with one hand on the counter and the other on his hip.

"Hey pretty boy, have you decided what to order?"

Pretty boy? "Uh, anything light." "First time?" "More than that touches me." "Got ya." The barista turns around, slamming his hand on the counter mockingly, you watch him with your full attention as he prepares your drink. Even if you don't pay much attention at first, his face looks familiar. You notice that he's turning his head to someone else and humming something to them while holding your glass in his hand. As you look into your glass, you notice that he has a few rings on his hand. Even though it's something unnecessary, you're intrigued by the fact that he's wearing jewelry. As he turns his attention to you, he taps his tongue and hits the glass with his index finger, making the ring make a sound with the tapping.

He holds the glass out in front of you and speaks in a lower voice. "And..here you go. A white wine spritzer for the new guy." As you thank him and take your drink, you finally figure out why his face looks familiar.

This was the same man you saw at the bus stop. Only now his hair was more.. different. It looked more well-groomed and didn't cover his eyes like it did at the bus stop. As you wrap your hands around your glass, you notice your friend sitting down next to you. Playfully pushing your shoulder, she calls out to the barista for her drink. "Heyy, sup?" "Hey." While he was busy with another drink in his hand, he looks at the two people next to you with an eyebrow raised. Especially to the friend who is the reason you came here. "You are all together?" The person your friend knows tells you that you guys are new here and that she invited you. He bites his lower lip a little and hums in approval. When the drink he was preparing is finished, he leans slightly towards you, placing his elbows on the counter.

"I thought your friends would be crazy like you, but they seemed pretty normal."

His eye points at you, making you flinch for a moment. You listen to their conversation as you take a sip of your drink. "Yeahhh, well you can't know that. Maybe they are crazy, huh?" The person mocking the barista, with her hands on the counter and her head on her knee, also smacks your friend on the arm, causing the two of them to laugh. You could only stare at them as you traced the edge of your glass with your fingertip. You weren't bothered by it, but you couldn't bring yourself to let them get along and you just sit on the sidelines. In a moment of courage, you down the rest of your drink in one go, tapping your glass on the table as you reach up to wipe your mouth, but you notice your friend is looking at you.

Your friend looked at you with a funny look, shouting something at you and disappeared with her friend. "Don't go too far, you already know why!!" The atmosphere got tense for some reason as she left you alone with the barista again. You slowly pass your empty glass towards the man in front of you, a hum coming out of your mouth. "Can I get something.. heavier?" Shaking his head slightly, he returns to his work again. Even though you didn't drink anything heavy yet, you still didn't feel very well. Your stomach hurt a little and your head ached slightly. But you didn't want to drink the same thing over and over. And if you consider that the person in front of you is a man...maybe trying some heavy stuff would be a good experience. Your feet were actually touching the ground, but you stood on your tiptoes to make yourself look taller. You realized your drink was ready when his footsteps approached. This time he didn't say what it was as he handed you a red glass. You weren't very good with drinks, so you couldn't guess. He cocked his head slightly to the side as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Don't know what it is?" "No.." "Don't care about it, just drink. It does taste good, so don't worry." He says quickly as he wipes his hand on the apron tied around his waist. After all, you’re not his only customer.

You take a sip and try to guess, was it wine again?

You take another sip, but this time it feels sweeter, like there's something wrong with your taste.

Even if you don't get what it is, you continue drinking because you like the taste. In the meantime, your friend comes to you once again. She's not drunk, but she looks a little... messy..Your friend says she wants to leave early and asks if it's okay with you. At first you want to leave the club with her because it means you'll be alone, but then something tells you to stay. "Nah, I guess I'll stay a bit longer." Your friend gives your arm a gentle squeeze, telling you to be careful. Her friend next to her shouts something before leaving. "Nam-gyu! The guy who came with me will still be here, keep an eye on him!" Even if you don't know who it is at first, you eventually do when the barista raises his hand in acknowledgement.

Maybe you could talk to him since you know his name now. That you saw him at the bus stop and... felt like talking. Maybe it would be better if you don't say the last part. With them leaving completely, you are left alone for a while, thinking about taking out your phone and walking around. In the meantime, the man you were dying to talk to appears in front of you again.

"I see you finished your drink?" "Yeah, just finished." "Want me to make something heavier again? I thought 'more than that touches you'." You feel a slight blush on your face, yes you said that..and yes it really touched you. "Well I'm not the best at the moment but," You put your phone back in your pocket and continue talking. "I wanted to try something new...even though I knew I would get worse." "That's not cool bro." "Huh?" The man in front of you speaks in a ridiculous tone while pointing at several drunk and sober people on the sides. "There are even people who come here and just drink coke, and believe me, they can get crazy drunk." You frown at him, not quite understanding what he's saying. Are you supposed to be offended? "There's no need to waste yourself trying something new." It felt ironic that he was speaking as a barista. After all, it was his job to make and sell drinks.

"And this is coming from a barista, huh?"

He just chuckled at your question and rolled his eyes jokingly. Even though you didn't talk much, you already felt close to him, and it was obvious that he was a fun person.

"Anyway, why you didn't leave with your friends?" The question made you freeze suddenly. How exactly could you say that he was the whole reason you stayed? But you decided that now wasn’t the time to be shy, so you cleared your throat and answered him. "We met before actually, kind of, I saw you at the bus stop." You paused for a moment between sentences and corrected yourself. He blinked and made a face as if he were trying to remember. He must have remembered afterwards because a few words fell from his lips. "Ohh, the guys I asked the bus, yeah?" "Yeah!" "What a confidence. I didn't think you'd be in this club." Oh right..He was still with you when you talked about the club. "Ah- yes, yes.. I didn't think we would..met as well." As you reach out to scratch your neck, your slightly undone hair tie comes into your hand. As you look at the hair tie that has fallen into your palm, your hands go to tie your hair back up when he stops you. "Leave it, this suits you." Coming from someone with long hair, it meant more to you. "If you say so." It occurred to you that it might be getting late, and as you look at your phone in sudden panic, you realize it's past midnight. "Oh, fuck."

"Everything alright?" He asks in a worried and curious tone as you turn off your phone and put it back in your pocket. "Not really- I just didn't realize it was getting this late." "You have plans or something?" This question again.. "No, not at all. I just don't like sleeping late." After nodding his head to show that he understands, he clears his throat by hitting the counter with his hand. "Okay, then. You better get going." "Right, right. Do you guys take cards?" "Sure. Lemme make it for you really quick." You take your wallet out of one of your pockets and hand him your card. After going to a place not too far away and paying, he comes back with a piece of paper along with the card. "All done. And here is my number. In case you'll think about coming here again, let me know so I can get you on my shift, yeah?" "Thanks." You grab the paper with the card and tuck them in your wallet before standing up. After fixing your clothes, you turn your attention to Nam-gyu.

"Talk to you later..Nam-gyu." You said it loud enough for him to hear. Hoping you didn't mix up his name. He looked at you and tried to get your name out of his mouth, but since he didn't know, he just let out a breath and said goodbye to you. "See ya."

As you head home, you look at the paper in your hand. The number was written quickly and the last numbers were a little blurry because the ink hadn't dried yet. Since there were no buses, you preferred to walk, and maybe it would make you feel better. Your stomach still ached and you could feel the drinks you drank stuck in your throat. You were almost at your house when you felt like throwing up. You didn't want to embarrass yourself since there were a few people around. You entered your apartment building with one hand over your mouth, sobbing as you climbed the stairs to your own apartment. The first place you went to when you entered the house was the sink. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you unintentionally threw up the things you drank. Your face was sour because of the taste that remained on the tip of your tongue. "..I knew I shouldn't have had that second glass.." As you’re mad at yourself under your breath, you remember the number he gave you.

You quickly cleaned yourself up, letting the cold water hit your face. You sat down on the dull bathroom floor and picked up your phone. "Let's see.." You carefully write down the numbers and save it in your phone. You want to look at his social media with your save. While you are curiously scrolling through your apps, you notice that there is usually no profile photo, but the profile photo on one of them catches your attention. He looked like when you saw at the stop.. His hair was messier and he was dressed in a nicer style. His tattoos, which you didn't notice at the club, were also visible in his photo. You feel a little ashamed that you found yourself stalking him. What was your problem? Maybe it's his looks..and that he calls you a man.. You get up, shaking off your thoughts. It was obvious that you were going to have no sleep tonight, but you still took a sleeping pill to try your luck. The fact that he was on your mind even though you guys didn't talk for more than a day caused your cheeks to turn pink. Maybe you could have spent your time wandering around the house..even if you wanted to, you couldn't call him at this hour.

Before you knew it, it was already morning, you couldn't say you were doing well. But you weren't too bad either, you checked the time and planned to start your daily routine.

09:00 am

You remember that you need to make breakfast before you sit down at your computer. Of course, you didn't forget your beloved cat either, she woke up before you and had already left her food bowl in front of the kitchen. Thinking of her before yourself, you place the food bowl full of food next to your cat's bed. She gets up excitedly, meowing at you while eating her own food with small chews.

You prepare your own breakfast and get down to work. Since you were working from home, you had nothing to worry about. Well, we could say that you were able to have a comfortable working environment. When it's time for a break, you want to scroll through your phone, and then the number you saved last night catches your attention. "Nam-gyu.." As you silently read his name with your lips, you thought it would be a good idea to call him. Maybe you could say a 'what's up man?' or just..have a little chat. After a swallow, you wait for him to pick up the call. And after a few seconds later, you hear a voice on the other side of the phone. "Hi?" "Hey there." "Do I know you?" Oh right. Your number wasn't saved on his phone. "I-it's me. From last night- remember? The guy you talked to?" While you're hoping for him to recognize you, you feel momentarily uneasy when the person on the line remains silent. "Ohh- yeah, the one I gave my number. What's up?" "Yes, that one. Just wanted to say hi while I'm on my break." He speaks after clicking his tongue. "Sweet, I'm still at home. you must have guessed I'm on the night shift. Shitty night shifts.."

"Actually, I'm at home too, I mean- because I work from home." There was a slight edge in your voice. Like he was going to judge you. But right now, he seemed to be in a good mood. Before he can respond, you quickly add something else. "It didn't seem very busy yesterday actually?" "You think like that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to deal with drunk sons of bitches?" After a small chuckle, he continues. "Especially when their own whores are with them." You didn't expect his mouth to be like..this.

"Yeah.. right." After a small hum comes from the end of the phone, you ask him to repeat it. "You're up tonight?" "Up?" "Down for getting drunk, duh." He continues his speech while assuming a tone of voice as if he had just remembered something. "You can't drink too much, can you? After they left, I got a message from my friend not to give you any shit that's heavy." God, this is embarrassing. Yeah, what they said was true, but saying it like that made you feel less of a... man. A few unexpected words escaped from your lips as you involuntarily nodded his approval. "But I still wanted to try." "Is that soooo.." "Yeah." There was silence between you for a few seconds, then he replied with a sound as if Nam-gyu was sucking his teeth. "Hell..you'll stay with me, though? With the promise of leaving if you get any bad feeling." "Promise."

The night went better than expected. Nam-gyu turned out to be a bit more foul-mouthed than you thought, but he still kept in touch with you. You two drank together him without leaving your side. There was one scene that you couldn't forget, especially on your way back home.

While drinking together, everyone raises their glasses, and when you’re the last one not to raise your glasses, Nam-gyu grabs your shoulder and pulls you towards him. "Don't be shy, pretty boy. Come onnn, cheersss!" You thought he didn't realize what he was saying because he was half drunk, but you wanted to bring it up in your conversation the next day. Although it has been a few days since you met him, you spent your days hanging out with him. You were talking to him on the phone again, telling him how your night went and stuff. "Right, right. Good thing that you weren't drunk enough to start hitting on others. Hell, you'd look hilarious." Hilarious? "Why did you say that now.. I'd not." "Yeah-uh, you would. We hung out together all night anyway, glad you enjoyed the night." "Ah- yep. Thanks." You almost forgot what you had to ask for a second, he would go silent sometimes because he was having breakfast.

"You called me pretty boy, though."

"Hm?" After finishing the mouthful, he speaks again.

"Fuck, I did? I mean, it's true but I don't remember saying it."

So he actually meant it. "Isn't it normal because you were drunk?" Oh yeah, definitely.. it's also normal for him to be all over you because he was drunk. "Yeahhh..anyway. You feel any good?" "Mhm, pretty good." Mentally? Yes. But physically, honestly speaking, you were a mess. You hadn't been taking your medication regularly for a few days, and you especially didn't touch your medication the day you went out drinking. You didn't even have the energy to take a shower as soon as you got home and threw yourself into bed. But you still couldn't give up on this feeling. The way he talked to you and the way you felt more manly when you were with him.

The cheerful voice you hear before you hang up the phone makes your heart stop for a moment. "See ya around man." And just like that the call ends. You smile to yourself as you place the phone back on your lap.

You continued going out with him like this for the last few weeks, until one day you tried something a little heavier. You saw him take drugs while you were drinking. And this time he offered you a little too. His eyes were half-closed and his bangs were stuck to his face. You two weren't actually inside the club, you had already left a couple mins ago. You were standing on a bench at the side of the street. The cold air hit your face and you weren't exactly drunk, you had chosen to drink less. Despite that, your stomach ached and you weren't feeling very well. He held a slightly crushed pill in his hand, extending his palm towards you. "Take some." "Uh, no. I'm good." "Ugh. Take it." He brings his palm towards your lap, urging you to take it. You think again, involuntarily taking it from his hand. You feel like throwing up for a moment and go to cover your mouth with your free hand. Nam-gyu moves closer to you, placing his hand on your knee as he tilts his head slightly to the side. He hiccups a few times as he tries to understand what’s going on. You take your hand off your mouth and turn your head to the man next to you. He was watching your face with his mouth slightly open. The moment you turn to him, he can't help but laugh a bit.

"Fuck it, one time wont hurt." Still indecisive, you look at his face. When he realized you weren’t going to do it on your own, he lazily grabbed your hand and popped the pill into his own mouth, chewing it a few times. You were so focused on the sound of the pill breaking that you didn't realize his lips brushed against yours until a little sound came from him. After feeling a few pieces of dust in his mouth, he pulls back from you, his head hitting your shoulder before he returns to a sitting position with his head down. Your eyes widened as you felt your cheeks turning pink. You were practically awake as he sat next to you as if nothing had happened.

You looked at him, swallowing hard, and opened your mouth to say something. But you didn't want to press the issue, you knew he wouldn't remember what he said because he was already so high. Or what he did.

But you would be lying if you said you weren't high either. You weren't feeling very well and your head was spinning. You were either going to stay here numb, or you were going to go home. You weren’t going to sleep in the middle of the street. So you struggled to get up and held Nam-gyu’s hand. He threw a curious look at you and tried to get up as well, laughing to himself as he fell onto your back. Hell, you two were high as fuck. He didn't keep his mouth shut, asking you ridiculous questions as you two headed towards your apartment. Nam-gyu, who threw himself on the couch as soon as you entered, was in a much worse state than you. To wake up you either had to take a shower or go to sleep like him. Nam-gyu didn't sleep even though he was on the couch. He doesn't make a sound while looking at your sobbing figure. "I'm gonna take a..bath. You stay there." He put his head on the edge of the couch and makes eye contact with you. He closed his eyes and made a gesture of approval. This way you go to your own room...good thing you have a personal bathroom.But when you start taking off your clothes, some footsteps catch your attention. As you take off your seat belt, you notice that the door is slightly open.

"Man..fuck this shit my head hurts like hell.." He speaks to you as he struggles to stand. He must be starting to wake up a little, but you doubt he's still conscious. "Mhm..what about taking a hot shower?" "..Hot shower?" "Yeah." He sits on the edge of your bed, one hand playing with his hair as he walks into the room. You keep your hands still on your belt, finally catching Nam-gyu’s attention as you throw it onto the bed. He gives you a look that you can't understand. But your mind is still stuck on the warm feeling of his lips on yours. You don't want to take your pants off in front of him, suddenly you turn your attention to the bathroom with the sound of water overflowing and say a few words to him. "The left door at the end of the hallway is the bathroom.. I think you should take a shower too." He makes a sniffling sound and then his eyes move from your hands to your face. Without saying anything, he leaves the room and heads to the bathroom.

With him gone, you can finally go to the bathroom. But the thought of what would you do if he didn't leave eats you alive. Would you really take it off in front of him? You pray to god he left. Taking a shower really did feel good, just like you thought it would. The warm water hitting your skin made you felt more alive. Especially after smoking it, you thought you wouldn't find yourself at home. You head towards the living room in your pajamas, the wet drops in your hair soaking your shoulders. Nam-gyu had already left the bathroom before you and was letting his hair combs dry on the edge of the couch. His eyes were watching the ceiling, and he lifted his head slightly when he noticed you coming.

"Finally." With a sigh, he raises his hands to tuck the hair behind his ears. You realize his rings are gone, they were lined up on the table along with his phone.

"My bad, it took me a bit to..feel better." After muttering to him with a guilty conscience, Nam-gyu pats the back next to him, gesturing for you to come over. "Yeah whatever man.. come on." As you sit next to him and watch his movements, you realize that he is waking up with difficulty. He would close his eyes from time to time and open them again as if he had woken up from sleep. Suddenly, you remembered your medication. Maybe it would be better for your health to get a few. "Oh, wait-" You reach out from the couch and pick up a bag that's on the table. "What's that?" Nam-gyu spoke more soberly. "My medications..I haven't taken them for a long time." As you look at the pills, you remember that moment again, you hoped to get better by taking your medication. Nam-gyu speaks lazily as he looks at the pills in your hand. "Is there anything that helps with headaches?" "Yeah." You lift one of the few pills left on your right and wave it in the air. As you come to him with a glass of water in your hand, he throws his head on the couch and glares at you. He waits for you to put the pill in his mouth with his mouth slightly open, and when you hand him the glass of water, he swallows the pill dryly, shaking his head. "No need." You put the water in your hand aside and hold on to the couch with your hands. You tilt your head to the side and look at the face below you.

His eyes were probing your face as if he was going to eat you alive. One hand comes to your face, pinching your nose he speaks in a low voice. "Like what you see? Heh." You frown at him and back away from the couch. You decide it’s a good idea to change clothes since your wet hair has completely soaked your shoulders.

You walk towards your room and take off your clothes. Before you can put on another t-shirt, you feel two hands grab your bare arms. You turn your head, startled by the cold feeling. Nam-gyu’s eyes roam over your body as his muscles twitch slightly in response to your reaction. "Were you always that..skinny?" You step forward and try to ignore what he says. Either he was high or he was seriously trying to get close. The first option seems like it might be more realistic for you. He stayed at your apartment that night. And even if you didn't want to admit it, he was acting closer to you. He would call you in the morning with his sleepy voice and ask about your plans, and when he came across ridiculous customers, he would send you messages about them.

"Someone just picked the drink that he threw up, fucking weirdoooo.."

"I mean seriously, people have no taste when it comes to drinking..."

He even agreed to come to the hospital with you. Even though he accompanied you to drink, he also cared about your health sometimes. One day when the weather was rainy and cold, he offered to pick you up with his car. You had been in his car a few times already, so you knew where he usually parked. You practically ran out of the apartment, holding Nam-gyu's hand as you quickly walked in the rain to find the car. "Wait, wait— it's not like the car is gonna run away." Before you could even guess, you fell to the ground because of the wet floor, and he fell on top of you, causing all the water on the ground to splash onto you two. You could hear him swearing under his breath, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he stood over you, supporting himself with his hands. "Asshole- look at me. I'm all soaked." But you couldn't answer him, the sound of the rain falling and the water dripping from the ends of his hair onto your cheeks..he just looked so stunning. His wet eyelashes made it hard to see his eyes, but the way he looked at you was priceless. You could see your own reflection in his pupils, and you couldn't help but notice his rising and falling chest. Your body was moving without you realizing it, your hands cupping his cheeks as you lowered his face towards yours, letting your lips taste each other. His cold lips were trembling against your warm ones. You couldn't hear any sounds, as if he had forgotten to breathe. After you pulled away, he just stared at you. He stared at you in surprise for a few seconds, as if he hadn't kissed you before.

"..Holy shit, dude." Your cheeks quickly begin to heat up as you realize what you've done. You pull yourself up and try to stand up. "Oh god- S-sorry. It just, happened. I swear-" He responded with a mocking look at you as his hands rested next to your shoulders. "Yeah?" "Y-yeah! Please just forget about it, youjustlookedsogood, I couldn't-"

"Shut up and get in the car, dude."

"Okay.."

When you two got into the car, you felt very strange in the seat next to you, a feeling like you were never close before filled you. Nam-gyu’s voice makes you swallow your words as you were taking a deep breath to explain yourself. "It was obvious that you were interested in that kind of shit but, fuck dude. I didn't think you would do it with me." "Huh?" "I mean, even your look gives it away." The words hit you in the face as if you had been beaten. You felt like you were sinking into the ground as you stared at him with your pupils constricted. Nam-gyu lets out a sigh of relief, combing his hair back with one hand as he smiles at you sarcastically. "Hah..did you like it though?" "What?" "The kiss." Pursing his lips, he makes a kissing sound, and responds to you by tilting his head to the side. "You liked it?" You don’t answer him and just stare at the side window of the car. An embarrassed expression covers your face as you realize he's muttering something under his breath.

"We still have time..wanna do it?"

"..Do what?"

You understood right after that second what he meant with the sly look he threw at you. He was fucking hard. When you came home you were not only wet but also... sticky. You limped a little as you walked into the your apartment, the scene in the car coming back to you as you noticed the sticky liquid on your t-shirt, and the corner of your lip was still bleeding slightly. "Did you really have to bit my lip..that hard?" "It's ridiculous that you talk as if your voices didn't fill the car." "Shut up!" After playfully punching him on the shoulder, you left to take a shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror in your bedroom, you felt your eyes flutter for a moment. But you ignored it and headed towards the bathroom anyway. As you can imagine, this wasn't your first time. He would try to have a quickie with you whenever he got the chance. And you were completely off your medication. Other than taking pills just to sleep, you wouldn't take anything else except the pills Nam-gyu gave you. And your relationship continued like this for a few months. During that time Nam-gyu 'borrowed' a lot of money from you. Not enough to put you in debt but.. there wasn't nothing he wouldn't do to get high. But as your relationship became more formal..you felt like people were starting to judge you. Not for being with a man, but for being with him. Almost everyone who knew him was astonished and asked how you managed to endure him. I mean..yeah he wasn't the best. But he had taken your first time and you had never felt this comfortable with anyone before. Plus, even if you were physically shit, he made you feel good. Was that even possible?

You even got matching tattoos together. He got a butterfly tattoo and you got a bloody rose tattoo to represent him. He always loved your chest. The feeling of being able to feel your bones when he touched it gave him a pleasure he couldn't describe. That's why you had it done on the left side of your chest. He had it done on his left arm, so that it would be visible, like the other tattoos. But all good things must come to an end, right? Especially if you're not a healthy person. Even though you liked how it was.. sometimes your body couldn't handle it. Pushing yourself too hard would make you feel weak in the coming days.

Because of this, you couldn't even see Nam-gyu at all sometimes, you couldn't even reply to his messages. You had become unable to leave your house. You had to give up your beloved cat to your friend and go back on your medication to get better. You were so glad your partner cared about you. You even felt guilty at times because you felt like a burden to him. But...the things you heard about him were starting to make you doubt yourself. And that one voice message you heard was the final straw.

"Him? Yeah, he feels good and all, but...sometimes you know. I feel like a woman would be good too."

That voice message your friend sent you left you shaking in your bed. The fact that it was a drunk voice message tore you apart even more. Maybe he didn't mean it like that? He's doing something to get high almost every night anyway, so maybe he's not talking about you- or maybe he's faking it or something? But him calling you out of the blue in the morning corrected your suspicions. Actually, you had already confirmed this with the message your friend sent you at night. 'I told you so. You can't trust him at all..' You don't answer his phone at first, but then you notice the message he sent you in your notifications. He was asking if you were home. Of course you were home.. But you didn't want to look at his message. You weren't in the mood to talk right now and especially didn't want to hear his voice. How could you trust him now? How could you know he wouldn't lie to stay with you? This time he called you again. When you answered he spoke in a louder tone than you intended. "What the fuck do you think you're doing by not answering your phone, motherfucker?" "I don't wanna talk." "NAH. You're gonna talk. I'm almost at your apartment- don't make me open the door." His voice sounded like he was growling at you, it was obvious that he was mad. You panic when the phone is hung up on you, and as scenarios run through your mind about what he was planning to do, you jump out of your bed when you hear a knock on the door. Swallowing hard, you walked towards the door without bothering to ask who is it. It was obvious who it was anyway. Nam-gyu’s hand grabs the edge of the door as you nervously open it, making you flinch. As you back away from the door, he walks in, closing the door behind him.

"To the living room, now." You frown at him and direct your steps towards the living room. He watches you sit on the couch as he throws his phone on one of the couches. Nam-gyu doesn’t say anything at first as he stands, cracking his knuckles. "The worst shit always happens to me, fucking god."

"But you were the one who said those things?" "And?" Was he serious about what he said just now..He didn't even deny what he said. "You know, you said you didn't want to be with ME- after everything I had done for you!" You shifted your position on the couch and raised your tone towards him. You had every right to be as angry as you wanted right now.

Rolling his eyes, he put a hand over his mouth and sighed as he gave you an answer. "Don't act like I've never done anything to you, now..." He continued, his voice softer. "You know how I am with other people...we were just messing around, I was drunk." You didn't want to answer him. You chose to stay silent. Maybe what he meant wasn't such a bad thing after all?He approached you with his expression unchanging, one hand on the couch and the other holding the end of your hair as he spoke in a low tone. "Yes, yes.. you're always right pretty boy. Forgive me, let's forget about that, yeah?" You knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't even try to cover up what he was doing..

You responded with a tone that indicated that it was unintentional. He might have the upper hand over you, but that didn't always mean you would obey him. "Really? Isn't that what you always do... to make up for your mistakes by covering them with the pleasure you give me?" You clearly hear him click his tongue, and he bites his lip lightly, showing you that signature smile again. ".. Exactly, you know me so well..I'm kind of embarrassed." His hands have already moved down to your thighs before you even notice. His eyes slowly drift down as his thumbs play with the elastic of your sweatpants. "Come on...just for this once. You know how much I love you, right?" Oh how you loved his words..his choice of words was driving you crazy. It was like all your anger was gone in an instant. You took a deep breath and mumbled one last sentence under your breath.

"Y-you're right.." As your eyes follow his fingers, you watch the sweatpants fall down from your waist. He lowers his hand, which was playing with your hair to your chest, making you lean back into the couch.

"..But I should admit. I hate how you can do both." His breathing becomes heavy as his eyes roam over your bare skin, and he says the words in between breaths. "Hate how you're pretty as a woman and..attractive as a man. I can feel drunk just by looking at you." You were melting under his touch and words, he must have noticed you were getting hard because he already had you in his grasp. Nam-gyu felt himself harden as the tiny moans coming out of your mouth filled his ears. He pulls his hand from your tent and lays you down completely on the couch, your arms falling around your face as you suddenly feel his hardness against yours. One hand cups your face to brush the hair off your forehead, while the other runs across your bare skin.

"What do you think..will you last for a few rounds?" You turn your face to the side, not wanting to make eye contact during it. "..Maybe." but he stops you with his hand and whispers one last thing.

"Nuh uh..don't take your charming eyes off me..pretty boy."

okay so ngl i wanted to add MOREE stuff, but i choosed today as the deadline cuz of the date..haha..anyway. please tell me if there's any typos cuz, no proofread..

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

HONEY, I’M HOME ─── jackson rippner ✧♤

ೃ⁀➷ “You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.” — ‘Letters to Milena’, Franz Kafka

pairing. jackson rippner x assassin!reader

summary. jackson hires a prostitute the night before meeting his target. only thing is, you’re not a prostitute— you’re an assassin hired to kill him. but he catches your eye, and instead, you keep him for yourself.

warnings. swearing, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, slight housewife kink, kidnapping, drugging, pretty toxic relationship lmao, somnophilia, dubcon, hate-sex kinda, guns, choking, stockholm syndrome, cervix fucking, jackson gets a taste of his own medicine basically😭, SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 6.1k

a/n. OKAY i know i said it was going into the direction of dom!reader but i got possessed and now,,, now we have this hate sex filth🫡

i. 

When Jackson comes to, the very first thing his mind registers in your perfume. It’s sweet and vanilla-y and entirely intoxicating, sending his mind whirling back to prehistoric days, childhood days, a vague mother figure he’d long forgotten about pressing sugar cookie dough onto a metal pan. 

Instead, as Jackson’s eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the bright, warm lamp-light curling around him and the various furniture in the room, he sees you, sitting in front of him on the floor. 

Your knees are pulled up and tucked under your chin, and it seems you’ve fallen asleep, your face peaceful and serene as soft inhales and exhales of breath leave you. 

You look like a pure angel, dolled up in a silk lace dress and neat bows so pristinely Jackson swore he could see a halo resting above your soft locks, but he knows you’re someone who can kill — has killed.

Jackson had been staying in a motel, readying himself to meet the target he was stalking the next day — some politico's daughter, y’know, perfect blackmail material — when you’d knocked on his door, dressed in a skanky skintight dress and garter belt, promising some fun for a flimsy fifty. 

Prostitution was illegal in this state, but Jackson had some money and time to kill — plus, if he didn’t get something now he’d probably fuck his target, which wasn’t really encouraged considering he could get attached, all that bullshit job professionalism. He wouldn’t, obviously, but his higher-ups didn’t think the same.

So he agreed; you looked stupid enough, and with that nice pair on you, those sweet curves, you were bound to be a good fuck. And you were definitely enough for him to handle— handle killing, he meant. It’d be easy: get you a little tipsy ‘cause it was his “kink” or some shit like that, kill you when you’re coming, dispose of your body, and meet the target in the morning. 

But then you’d kissed him, hungry and desperate and rough, and totally, completely, slipping the pill tucked under your tongue down his throat. 

Jackson realized immediately, his hands darting to the gun he had tucked in his belt, but you punched him in the stomach and the jaw before he could even undo the safety. And then he’d done it: he’d swallowed the drug, and the effects were instantaneous, the connection between his thoughts and his limbs losing focus, body sluggish like he was wading through water.

So suddenly had the situation had gone from him hiring a prostitute to getting fucking drugged by one, and he felt his composure slipping, the outrage burning in his lungs. Jackson thought himself to be a logical, well-thought out man who planned things to the tee, and this was not fucking following his plan. 

“What did you - do t’ me?!” He spat, voice growing slurred, bent over and clutching his stomach. 

“Mm,” you considered telling him, pursing your lips and watching him sway back and forth, “just a little something to calm you down. But, honey, I think you better sit down… it's not a mild drug.” 

“Answer my fucking—“ Jackson started caustically, then felt that familiar pins and needles sensation appear in his arms, then spread to his legs, before finally falling to the floor. 

“See?” You cooed, standing above him. You watched him struggle against the drug for a moment, before grinning and pulling him up off the floor onto the bed. 

Jackson listlessly fought your touch, slowly thrashing and kicking at you; his limbs may have grown numb, but his inhibitions had not lowered whatsoever, nor his paranoia. Good paranoia, in this situation, just not so good that it kicked in before you shoved a paralytic down his throat. 

You rolled your eyes, sitting down beside him and pushing his head onto your lap, digging your elbow into his chest to make him stay in place. 

Jackson choked at the pressure, blinking rapidly. “Who th- the -- fuck are you?” 

“I’m an assassin, honey. I’m gonna kill you — or, y’know, I’m supposed to kill you.” You beamed at him, “but I can’t do that, now can I? That’d be a waste of such a pretty face.”

Jackson’s brows knitted exasperatedly, mouth contorting to speak, but nothing came out. In fact, his mouth hadn’t been moving at all— his face had grown numb, now blankly staring up at you. 

“There we go,” you said happily. “The drug’s all kicked in now, hasn't it? I’ll speak freely, ‘cause y’can’t answer me anymore, not even scream or cry.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping like you were finally able to fucking relax, and began petting his hair before continuing. “You’re a naughty one, aren’t you? Stalking that politician’s daughter… were you gonna fuck her? Threaten her dad, have some fun, then kill them both?” 

Jackson’s breathing grew more furious, eyes widening— or, they would’ve, if he could move. This was about his job, about the target, not just some fucking freak accident and a crazy prostitute. 

You frowned, shaking your head. “You’ve gotta do more research on the people you blackmail, honey— Mr. Politican’ll do anything to keep his little princess safe. Even murder.”

You then got up, and Jackson watched you pull something out of your tights, unable to respond or protest or even fucking move, frozen still on the cheap motel mattress.

“But like I said, you’re too cute to die like that. I think I’ll keep you for myself.” You winked, before pricking him in the neck with the needle that was hidden in your tights. 

His breath hitched, but there was no use: black quickly curled into the edges of his vision, and one second passed, then another, then he was out. 

That brought him back to now, waking up with his arms handcuffed behind him and his legs tied roughly to a wooden chair. He rustled, pulling against the cuffs as quietly as possible, gaze still obsessively trained on your every micro-movement.

But it didn't matter: your eyes opened the moment you’d heard his breath catch and stutter, and you got up lightly, dreamily, like you were some figment of Jackson’s imagination rather than a psychopathic kidnapping assassin. 

“Morning, honey,” you whispered, getting up off the floor, rubbing your eyes and yawning. But he didn’t respond, still pulling at his restraints, eyes thinned and focussed. 

“Are you mad at me?” You whined with a frown, circling around his chair and playfully covering his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry. I’ll buy some cute lingerie, give you a little show… do you like lace? Or maybe leather?”

Jackson’s nostrils flared, growing irate and incredulous at your antics, and he snapped. “Do you really think you can keep me here? Make me play fucking house with you?” He shouted groggily, body still feeling the aftereffects of not one, but two, drugs. 

You blinked numbly, hand finding his face, and you pressed his cheeks together, making him look up at you. “I won’t make you play house with me, Jackson. But it's the only thing you can do. You’re dead.” 

Your tone had gone cold, using his real name instead of your pet-one, expression going blank and completely unfeeling at his words. Then, you fumbled for something on the wooden vanity beside you two before lifting it up to his face. 

It read: TERRORIST GROUP LEADER’S REMAINS FOUND IN RED-EYE FLIGHT WRECK.

Jackson’s lips parted, feelings riddled half in shock and half in utter fury, gaze shaky as it flitted back and forth between you and the newspaper you were holding up. “I’m fucking—“

“Alive, I know. That’s kinda the point,” you finished his sentence with a chuckle, shaking your head like any of this was a joking matter. “When a plane goes down and catches fire, burning everybody, they won’t individually check who's who, honey. If there’s a name on the seat, there’s someone in it, and they’re dead… you’re as good as dead.”

Jackson’s eyebrows were still knit, but he suddenly stared straight ahead, listening to you silently and trying to make sure you were still too focussed on explaining theatrically to realize he was about to dislocate his thumb. 

He could deal with the stool later — he just needed to get his arms free and escape. What with your grating voice and the fucking pronunciation of death you’d forced upon him, god, his fury was rising quickly, and he wanted nothing more right now than to fucking kill you. 

You finished your explanation, peering deeply into his bright blue eyes, and you were about to wrap your arms around his neck and press him comfortingly to your chest when he successfully freed himself, and his hands shot out from behind him to strangle you. 

His fingers curled around your neck extremely easily, tightening and contracting around the thing snugly. Jackson was seeing red, the anger accumulated from every little insane fucking thing you did to him bursting. 

You struggled against him, your mouth opening and closing pitifully, leaning down into his grip— until your lips tilted upwards, a devilishly cheshire smile digging into your cheeks like it was an expression God never intended you to make. 

Jackson only realized you’d taken his gun away from him when he felt the tip of the barrel kiss his temple, cold and clammy. He was still disoriented, and didn’t exactly comprehend all the facts ‘till they fucking punched him in the face. Or, in this case, threatened to shoot him point blank. 

“L’mme - l’mme go, h’ney,” you whispered raspily, your eyes stuttering in their socket as he pressed deeper. Simultaneously, completely on instinct, you pressed the gun further into his skin.

“You’re too fucking weak to fire that gun,” he growled, digging his thumbs into the neat notch in the middle of your neck, his fingernails scratching bloody marks into your sensitive skin.

But you frowned weakly, and then Jackson heard that all familiar click, making him blanch. The strength in his hands didn’t falter, however— it got angrier, more desperate, like you wouldn’t automatically shoot him if he just translated his wrath into his grip.

“I d’nt- w’nna k-kill you,” you shook your head a bit, but both your threats remained the same: his hands making you go lightheaded, go blue, and the gun in yours making him sweat, the image of you splattering his brain against the wall clear as day. 

Jackson felt your finger twitch, and he closed his eyes, grip going tense then faltering completely: if you shot him now, there was no point holding on. But you did the same— you thought he’d snap your neck right then and there, so you pulled away.

Just as quickly as you two had attacked one another, your resolves’ had crumbled, murderous intent clearing the room like someone had opened a window and let it all out. Silence filled it back up instead, a steady tension permeating with it, and it was fucking suffocating. 

“What do you - want from me, exactly?” Jackson questioned first, several long moments later, words slow and collected. He’d try to calm himself and hide his anger away for later, because he now knew that you meant for him to meet only two ends here: forever with you, or forever dead— and neither were ends he was intending to have.

To escape, crawl under your nose and perhaps kill you along the way, he’d need to know the rules— play your little game. This cat and mouse mess could be done in a flash, and he fucking knew you had a weakness. He could feel it in your touch, how you gripped him, the lonely warble in your insane words. 

Sure, you kidnapped him and were calling him honey, treating him like he was your plaything, but Jackson had always been good at reading people, even before he’d become an amalgamated mess of an assassin, terrorist and blackmailer: you needed someone in your life— be it a husband or a hostage.

You got down on one knee, looking up at him through your wet lashes, breathing still ragged. One of your hands took his own dislocated one, while the other fished through your silk dress pockets, pulling out a gold band ring identical to the one gleaming prettily on your left hand. 

You didn’t answer his question saying for you to marry me or for you to love me— both things Jackson would expect you to say, especially with your oddly profound obsession with him (despite the fact he was positive you’d only known him for a few weeks at most.) No, you’d smiled, a lovely duchenne one, rosy-cheeked like a fucking schoolgirl confessing to her crush, not an assassin who’d kidnapped him, and said, “For you to be mine.” 

Your hand curled around his dislocated thumb and quickly snapped it, cruel and rough but perfectly back in place, before you slipped the ring onto his finger shakily, and brought his hand up to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“You’re mine,” you repeated in a whisper, sounding every bit like a warning rather than a celebration. 

ii.

After a few days of living with— or, more accurately, being held captive by you, Jackson thought he had you all figured out. It usually only took a few days for him and a target to become acquainted anyway; mutual acquaintance or not.

He found that the warmer he treated you, the more freedom he’d have. Like, after you slipped the ring on his finger, you undid the ropes tying his legs. A reward, you’d said, for accepting your… unity. 

But you still switched out the clinky metal cuffs for zip ties. “I can’t have you doing that nifty little thumb trick anymore, can I?” you explained. “But I still want you to walk around. Take a tour of the rest of your life, honey.”

Then, you told him you had to go to work — to which Jackson rolled his eyes, considering assassination wasn’t exactly what he’d call work, though, he would also have to call himself a hypocrite — and left. Jackson wasn’t shy about roaming about the house, especially to look for a fucking escape, but he was firstly confronted with the sheer size of the place you’d locked him in. 

Where he’d first waken up was the master bedroom, long and wide with a king poster bed and canopy, a pair of couples vanities side by side, two walk-in closets and one large ensuite. The rest of the house was the same, being two stories tall and terribly extensive: Jackson ran out of fingers on his hands to count how many rooms were in it. 

By the time he’d combed through the entire house — discovering a measly two possible escape routes in the process — it was dark outside, and you entered through a front door Jackson couldn’t find for the fucking life of him. 

It was appalling, firstly how spontaneous and carefree you were whilst simultaneously thinking of everything that could go wrong, and secondly, how up to par your skills were to his. He wasn’t one to gloat, but he knew just as well as his coworkers that he was a large step above the rest— and it seemed you were, too, the only equal he’d encountered in his line of work… and the only person who’d bested him. 

“Honey, I’m home!” You sing-songed in the hallway, poking your head into each and every room for Jackson’s familiar form. 

Jackson had settled back in the master bedroom, sitting on the very chair you’d untied him from that morning, and when you finally found him you cooed. “Aw, baby, you don’t hafta’ stay here all day.” You said, lifting his chin to look up at you.

Jackson grit his teeth, his temper suddenly getting the best of him, and he spat at you. But the effect didn't work nearly as well as intended: you didn’t even wince, merely blinking and bringing two fingers to your cheek and wiping the slick off. You pouted at him for a second, made your eyes real big and pitiful, before kissing him on the cheek… and shoving your spit-slicked fingers into his mouth, making him gag. 

It looked like you were enjoying his suffering, before pulling away a moment later. “Well, no matter,” you said, brushing his actions off and regaining your happy mood. “I know you weren’t really here all day, honey.” 

Jackson’s lips parted, eyes thinning suspiciously. “What the fuck are you—“

You suddenly pulled out your phone, showing camera angles from all throughout the house… and more startlingly, previous footage of him, scouring the house’s windows and poking through the various furniture and rooms earlier in the day. “You are quite the curious cat.”

“You have a camera?” He asked indignantly. Honestly, he should’ve expected it: it’s like, what do you get when you have a captive itching to escape and an obsessive, head-over-heels captor with plenty of money on her hands? 

“Several,” you preened, “so don’t bother escaping.”

Then, you hooked your arm into his and dragged him to one of the (many, many) dining rooms.

“Now, I’ve never exactly had a hostage before,” you offered, pushing him into one of your cushy walnut dining chairs, “so I just realized you haven’t eaten. God, I’m so sorry, honey, you must be starving.”

With that, you ducked into the large kitchen a room away, and then returned holding a steaming plate of something, setting the dish down in front of him. “It’s not exactly, y’know, fine dining,” you said, picking up the spoon hidden in the food and scooping up some peas, “but it’s home-cooked. Not my home cooking, obviously, it is -- was, a target’s. I had a plate earlier, don’t worry, it’s good.”

Jackson stared at you, mind spinning with the information you were nonchalantly throwing at him: you were feeding him, your hand holding the cutlery, his mouth around it like he was fucking six, and the person who had made this food was dead, having had their throat slit or something. 

But there was another thing in Jackson’s mind, a tiny, weak voice within him that told him to just shut the hell up and eat the damn food. His survival instinct, probably, but then it went on to think that you weren’t that bad, feeding him and keeping him safe from the police in this nice, grand house— and Jackson squished the voice. No fucking way in hell was he experiencing early stage stockholm syndrome. 

At his reluctance, you frowned, and forced the spoonful in his mouth. “Eat,” you scolded, and fed him till the whole plate was finished. 

He ate, of course, not because of the little bitch voice in his head, but because of the fact that he actually was really fucking hungry. The gesture seemed to warm your heart, for some fucked up reason, and you later sat in the livingroom with him and loosened his zipties. 

There was a brief moment, however, that Jackson felt even an iota of fear: when his hands were slightly free, he immediately reached to grab you— he was taller, stronger, and could certainly defeat you in mere moments. 

But your sneaky fingers tightened his restraints at the drop of a hat, your head butting his jaw so he fell back on the couch. “Try anything,” you warned, tone suddenly dark, “and I will break your fucking wrist.”

At his tentative, jaw slightly dropped, shaky nod, a cold sweat beaming down from his temple, you dissolved into a fit of laughter at his expression and undid his ties once more. This time, your hand held his in an intimate death grip, thumb curled sweetly around the wrist, that warning still ringing in his head.

He was learning how to play the game, though. His captor’s behavior. What you liked, what you didn’t. The extent of your mercy. 

Jackson cleared his throat, searching for a question that might make you open up. “…What’s your name, anyway?” Yes, he didn’t even know your fucking name, and he doubted that the tacky prostitute name you’d given him initially was your real one. 

You looked up at him, surprised he’d speak first, nonetheless to know more about you. So, you indulged, and told him your name, things you liked, didn’t like, your hobbies… all normal people stuff— y’know, first date stuff. 

“I keep forgetting you don’t know a thing about me,” you confessed, leaning your head on his stiff figure, “‘cause I’ve known you for a very long time.”

Jackson’s breath hitched. “How so?” he said, trying not to give away his eagerness; he was going through all the steps he did when first meeting a target, like being kind and sweet, respectful and attentive, really buttering them up and coaxing information from them, before going in for the kill. In Jackson’s current case, the “kill” was a kiss. 

It’d be something chaste, nervous, like he was unwittingly slipping into your trap and couldn’t help the warmth bubbling within him toward you, so you would fall into his; hook, line, and sinker… and maybe completely undo his zipties. He’d have to lay low for a few days, obviously, and build up that obsessive trust of yours, before going in for the literal kill. 

But then again, Jackson, with that delirious little ego of his, kept forgetting your skills were up to par with his, and you were the first and only person to ever fucking best him. 

You grinned thinly, knowing exact what he was doing, noticed the pattern his words went in, trying to shepherd the conversation to get the answers he wanted, and you pulled away from him. “I’ll tell you another day, honey. M’gonna go to bed,” you whispered sleepily, redoing his zipties. “Join me. I don’t like it when you tire yourself out.”

And so you left, and Jackson watched your hips sway, legs carrying you down the long hallway into the master bedroom. As soon as you were out of direct view, he sucked in a sharp breath, seething angrily. 

Fuck, he thought, the realization of his predicament settling within in him at last. He’d always been told this: if you didn’t believe you could escape your situation within the first day, you would never escape at all. He thought it a silly mantra, because he’d always devised an escape plan after thinking on it for a few long moments. 

Never did he think he’d find himself in a situation where that actually fucking applied, never did he think he’d meet his equal, and never in his entire, terrorizing existence, did he think he’d be helpless.

But Jackson had to persevere. Had to. He had not survived every terrible incident thrown at him in his tired lifetime, just to accept this. And so, he went to bed with you, the zipties rubbing his pale skin raw, and he watched the shadows on the roof shift with every hour that passed. 

He did not sleep, certainly not with you by his side, and though it looked like it, you did not either. It was the paranoia of two terribly similar people; gaze dancing in the dark and never finding each others, waiting for the moment one of you snapped and you had to attack or defend. 

The next day, and the next day after that, he went to bed beside you. Just like that, turned into weeks turned into months turned into seasons changing, and the zipties became cloth became your hand holding his. 

It was a culmination of feigned loving, fake vulnerability, and pretending he’d gotten Stockholm syndrome that got him to this point. Every “honey, i’m home,” or kiss or hug or pet-name you stabbed into him, he returned with a “welcome home, honey”, a peck on the cheek, a hand holding yours, his venomous tone switched like a light into something sweet, soft. 

One night, with his newly ziptie-free arms wrapping around you, your back nestling sweetly against his torso, he has to remind himself that it is not real. None of it was real: he was not your husband, you were not his wife, you did not love each other, you were not normal fucking people— you were the captive and the captor. 

Jackson had to remind himself he didn’t actually love you, because that night he thought: if you used him, he would use you. He would take you whenever he wanted, like how you used him. A man has needs, he thought, and being trapped in this house with you meant those needs could be met. 

It reminded him of when you first met— not the kidnapping part, of course, but of the kissing and the touching, your tits pressing softly against his chest, his hands following the swell of your ass. 

With a start, he realized he’d had some kind of unintentional celibacy enacted upon him: he couldn’t fuck anyone other than you, obviously, having been trapped in that house, but he never entertained the idea of fucking you because he hated you. You don’t fuck the bitch you’re planning to kill any day now. 

But your warm body against his awoke something in him, his forced celibacy unable to survive against the pure lust he felt filling him now. You were beautiful, undeniably, with pliant thighs and delicate curves he could see himself getting between animalistically, roughly, a kind of morbid sexual revenge against your captivity of him. It helped entirely that this was the most vulnerable he’d seen you, completely without any weapons, curled warmly into his side. 

After studying your breathing for a few seconds, ensuring you were still asleep, Jackson carefully slipped away from you to kneel in front of you in the middle of the bed. He admired your night getup: those silk dresses you adored to wear at home, and absolutely no underwear. 

He then pried your soft thighs open slightly, dipping his head between them and losing himself in the sweet scent of your cunt, before chancing a stripe up to your clit. He flattened his tongue, wanting to collect your taste on it completely, and you merely sighed, turning over slightly and widening your legs in your sleep, like you somehow knew what he was doing and wanted it. 

He pressed his mouth up to your cunt fully now, his nose hitting your mound as he devoured you, tongue filling every crevice and fold you had like he was starving. Your small whimpers and breathy sighs grew louder now, more frequent, and then Jackson suddenly pulled away, satisfied with how he readied your hole.  

Jackson shimmed himself out of his boxer shorts, a pair with silly little hearts he’d never seriously buy for himself— you bought them, as soon as you’d captured him, clearly having fun with the utter control you could display on him, down to his fucking undergarments. 

He shook himself slightly, refocussing on the matter at hand: fucking into your glistening cunt. There was something oddly empowering about doing this to you when you couldn’t protest, regaining some control over his own fucking life by terrorizing yours. 

But he wasn’t sure you’d fucking care anyway: he knew you liked to peek around the corner when he was showering, “accidentally” walking in when he was in the middle of changing, not-so subtly bending down and pressing your ass to his crotch. 

He sighed slightly, rubbing his hand up and down on his hard length in the dark, before lining it up with your entrance. Jackson muffled the groan that curdled in his throat with his large hand, breathing shakily and finally pushing past your slick folds. You were soaking, and he didn’t know if it was because of his previous foreplay or if you were just naturally like this, all horny because he slept beside you at night. He wouldn’t put it past you if that was the case: your obsession with him was clear in every single way. 

You made a noise in your sleep, and Jackson froze, hands instinctively coming up to press lightly against your throat — an unconscious thing on his part, formed when his hands had been zip tied and the only thing he could do was choke you, unable to grip any weapon properly. But you didn’t wake up; your face merely screwed together, before smoothing out and returning to blissful unconsciousness. 

Jackson let out a sigh of pleasure and relief, your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. He gripped the sheets beside your head and began thrusting in and out of you: at first gently, afraid to wake you up, but as the minutes dripped past, Jackson grew desperate, fucking into your cunt roughly. He wanted to abuse your tight little pussy, stretch you wide open and take you for everything you had. 

“Fuck,” he grunted under his breath, snapping his hips harder against yours, “Fuck!” 

His exclamation of sexual satisfaction startled you awake, but he didn’t notice how your eyes moved behind your eyelids, too focussed on pounding his rock-hard cock into you. For all the insanity and behavioral issues God gave you, he certainly made up for it in the way he crafted your cunt: extremely warm and easily wet, a sticky hole that sucked him in but was still cramped, like it was begging him to force your walls open. 

“Honey?” you murmured foggily, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were about to speak again, when Jackson suddenly found your g-spot, and rammed continually into it, making a filthy mewl leave your lips. 

“Fuck, you woke up?” Jackson cursed, looking at you for the first time. His thrusts were unrelenting, though, now not caring if you’d woken up and just wanting to feel your hole squeeze around him again. 

“Jackson, I was - sleeping,” you squeaked out, hands moving to his back and digging your nails into the skin.

“That’s kinda the point,” Jackson mocked, tone sarcastic and peeved like you were interrupting him. “And don’t fucking fight it,” he warned angrily, hand leaving the mattress and roughly squeezing one of your tits through the fabric of your nightdress, “‘cause I’m not stopping ‘till I come.”

You pouted fake-sadly at his words, but your back arching gave you away, keening when he kneaded your tit too meanly and made a shock of pain run up your body. “Feels so good,” you grinned sweatily, but he just rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he sighed, throwing his head back, “didn’t fucking ask what you thought.” 

He pushed your face to the side so he was looking at your jaw, more content with treating you like just some hole, but you didn’t care: he, your darling, was fucking you. He wanted you so bad he fucked you when you weren’t even awake. God, you could’ve kissed him right then and there, but he probably would’ve hit you. (Not that you would mind… but you wanted your honey to take control, have it his way for a bit.)

Jackson rutted into you fast and selfish, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the violent way he fucked you: your sick pleasure came at the expense of your weeping cunt, which was trembling in the stinging pain he was inflicting, cockhead stretching you wide. 

Then, Jackson’s hands slid down to your hips, so he could shove his cock deeper into your cunt, pressing his weight so heavily onto your chest you could barely breathe. He groaned; you were clearly affected by the action, bearing down on his cock suddenly, and he reveled in the ecstacy. 

He fucked you slightly and slower, and you only realized what he’d been doing when he leaned down to get a better angle, bullying the head of his cock against your cervix: he was trying to fuck into you further, push his dick so close, so snug against your womb that there was no doubt in hell his load would impregnate you. His actions were dictated not by any sense of reason, but by a crude, carnal desire, wanting nothing more but to make you scream. 

And you did scream alright, a breathy, brutal scream; a mix of whimpering pain at the way his head pushed against you, and of shameful, drooling pleasure, his delicious length making you feel fucking bloated, you were so full.

One of Jackson’s hands reached up to your head to pull your hair, making you whine at the pain of the tug, and he growled out a string of curse words, before thrusting his cock so angrily it was like a punishment, surely bruising your cervix, and releasing his thick load deep inside. His come flooded your cunt, pumping you full of his salty cream, fucking you still. 

Jackson then panted raggedly, feeling your gummy walls tense at the pain of him pulling out, flopping down beside you. “Does it hurt?” he asked you absently, pulling his boxer shorts back up to his hips. 

You bit your lip as you clenched your thighs together, whining slightly at the pain blooming deep within your abused cunt, and at the loss of pleasure— you hadn’t come after all, Jackson being entirely selfish in his fucking. “Uh-huh,” you murmured weakly, feeling the strength in your body leave you completely. “You’re a mean one, honey.”

“Good,” Jackson said, chuckling darkly. It was the first laugh you’d heard rumble out of him the entire time you’d held him captive, and you drank it in: it was pleasant and breezy, like cold water on a hot day. It was certainly out of place, such a gleeful laugh after savagely fucking you, but you welcomed it anyway. 

Jackson suddenly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “M’gonna use your hole whenever I want, and you’re gonna take my cock no matter what, ‘till you’re begging me to stop,” he growled in your ear, making goosebumps break out on your clammy skin. “Least you can do for fuckin’ kidnapping me, you psychotic bitch.”

“Oh,” you purred, batting your lashes up at him, “it’d be my pleasure to be your fucktoy.”

Jackson grinned, at you, for you, and you thought to yourself that kidnapping him was the best thing you ever fucking did. 

iii.

Somewhere, muddled between you kidnapping him, the two of you almost killing eachother, and him fucking you dumb, Jackson caved, and he started to believe he actually loved you. His mind didn’t have any qualms accepting that you were his new life— living in your house, only knowing you, and only ever talking to you. 

Maybe it was stockholm syndrome, or those delicious fantasies you’d whisper in his ear at night (“Y’know, honey, it’s really you who should be saying you’re home. What do you think, huh? You coming home from a long day of work to me, in my panties and an apron, no bra and a sweet, home-cooked meal on the table. Dessert’ll be, of course, me,”) or maybe it was just you.

You, despite your terrible job and seriously obvious insanity, being the epitome of fuckable: horny when he was, a talented, needy mouth, able to take anything he gave you to while always going back to being tight as fuck, and intensely eager to have him.

You, who controlled his life, and he, who controlled you. The way you treated each other was probably illegal somewhere, but in that house not even the fucking law mattered. (You still remember when Jackson got his gun back, and he teased your clit with the cold tip till you creamed down the barrel… a terribly memorable story that always made you groan.)

Jackson was extremely well aware that there was something strange about your relationship, and not just the fact it occurred in the strangest way possible, but that he was essentially giving up to you— losing his inhibitions, at least against you. Something about… putting his well being in your hands. His needs. His wants. His life. Spending the rest of his life with you; in this house, accepting life and no escape. 

But still, for a man like Jackson, who had long since accepted that he wasn’t cut out for a life of normalcy, a life of love, this certainly wasn’t a bad way of living. He had a house nicer than anything he’d ever lived in, didn’t have to work, could do whatever he wanted all day, and got to pound his cock into your perfect little pussy every single night. 

[lycheeloving]

tiny little fic elaborating on one of my Batman headcanons from my yandere Justice League AU, but you don't necessarily have to read those first, it makes sense all by itself imo. This is him taking care of you after having branded you basically. Warnings for the aftermath of a branding obviously + general yandere stuff.

"Go away."

Bruce, of course, doesn't listen, and shuts the door behind him with a click. "I know you're mad at me, but I brought you more painkillers, and I need to reapply the salve."

That does sound good, but unfortunately you're stubborn. And you hate him. "I don't care. Don't touch me. Go away," you mumble into your pillow from your place on the bed, then think for a second: "...but leave the painkillers."

"Me applying the salve is not up for debate. I don't want it to get infected, and you can't reach the wound by yourself, so I have to do it." He doesn't waste any time and straddles your lower back. Seriously? Couldn't he just have sat next to you? It's bad enough that you can't wear a shirt around him right now, and he has to sit on top of you? He must know what you're thinking, as you can't say anything about it before he states: "The angle is better from here." Yeah sure, it has nothing to do with the added body contact, or that he likes having you beneath him. You roll your eyes and don't say anything, waiting for him to get on with it.

You hear him open the jar of salve, its medicinal smell making its way to your nose, before he gently takes off your old bandages and starts rubbing it in. You flinch, his touch intensifying the burn. Why didn't he give you the painkillers before he started?

"You're healing nicely so far, it's going to be a beautiful scar." He says while spreading the salve evenly across your wound. Fucker. It's going to be beautiful? "Beautiful? You asshole, I'm going to have your fucking bat symbol on my back for the rest of my life! Of course you'd think it's beautiful, you wouldn't have done it otherwise." You scoff. Usually you wouldn't dare talk to him like this, but you feel like you've earned it after what he's done.

At your words his hands stop moving and he starts applying a bit more pressure on your wound. A warning. "Don't talk to me like that."

"I'll talk to you however I want until that thing on my back heals. You said it wasn't a punishment, meaning you broke one of your own rules when you hurt me. I'm allowed to say and do whatever the fuck I want until this is over." You should be allowed to do that all the time, but it's best not to push it.

Bruce grunts in response. "I'll let it slide for now. But don't get used to it." He finishes applying the salve and puts on clean bandages, but doesn't move to get off of you until you turn around to look at him and pointedly clear your throat. Unfortunately he doesn't give you any space, instead lying down next to you and putting his arm around you, carefully avoiding the burn.

"I'll give you the painkillers now, but then you should get some rest. Your body could use the extra sleep." You glare at him. "Oh yeah? I wonder whose fault that is." He doesn't react, instead holding the painkillers up to your mouth so you can finally take them. "I was thinking we could get your favorite food when you wake up again, and maybe watch a movie. What do you think?"

You only hum in response, your eyes falling shut as the painkillers kick in, making you sleepy. You subconsciously lean into the warmth that's radiating from Bruce before you drift off.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: fem!reader, anesthesia mentions, talk about how reader got sick from anesthesia. author is in pain and needs to focus on something else lmao

"and then she told me 'she got a little sick'," felix is carefully removing a shirt from a garbage bag, already well aware of what the contents of it contain, but he doesn't think twice as he prepares it for the wash. it's a shirt he bought you for christmas, a gift given early so you can wear it to your surgery and know he's still there with you. "how bad was it?"

you're sitting on the floor next to him, even though there's plenty of counter-space around him. "oh, it was the fucking worst." and then you wince a little, having opened your mouth too much to talk. you go back to that quiet tone of voice you've been using ever since you got out of your surgery earlier. "i don't know if they were trying to give me privacy or anything when they were changing my shirt, but... i was wearing a bra. i did theatre for years. i don't care about them fully taking off one shirt and replacing it with another when it was just three of us."

"ah." he throws your shirt into the wash, already reaching for your sweatpants. another victim to your sickness but far, far less so. the detergent will do it's job there, he thinks, plus it's a dark enough color... he sits down on the floor, the laundry basket between his legs now, and his foot presses against your side as he starts to dig through to find stuff he feels fine washing now. "i picked up your medicine. do you feel like eating yet?"

you shake your head. "i don't want to get knocked back out. i missed hanging out with you."

he chuckles, and you can see the pretty way his cheeks turn a rosy pink as he continues to throw things into the front of the washing machine. "i'll be up. do you want to eat something small? we can skip the narcotic for right now unless you end up needing it..."

"that sounds nice. can we game?"

he sets aside the rest of the laundry to do in a separate load, closing the washer as he crawls over to you. he plants a tiny kiss against your lips, hopefully not enough to hurt you in any way, and then another, longer one against your forehead. "we can game," he says. "pudding or jello? we've also got yogurt, but..."

with a sheepish look, you opt for finding and squeezing his hand instead of risking your jaw hating you further by sneaking a little kiss. "... pudding sounds good."

[webslingingslasher]

You mentioned once or twice that frat!peter isnt as affectionate when his brothers are around so I was wonder if we could get a little something something about reader just stop being affectionate towards him in general because she didn’t mind initially since some people are just like that when it comes to pda but it’s just starting to feel to make her feel like he’s just repulsed by her ☹️

i imagine this is when they first start entering the situationship era. cause i think they were hooking up for a minute and then the lines started to blur and thats when this starts happening.

so let's say,

one night you're sitting next to him on the couch and peter's got his hand rubbing from your knee to inner thigh and back down while he's talking to you.

and when two of his frat brothers come around from the back of the couch, and one chooses to sit on the arm rest, the other on the coffee table across from him. peter's hand stops and he drops it back on his own leg. so, you try to reach out your hand to hold his but he brings his up to move his hat, obviously dodging your hold, so you got up for a drink and stayed away.

----------

the next time this happens was a morning after you spent the night, the house had gone out for breakfast and peter had made you and him breakfast, which was the first time he's ever done something like that.

you're on counter and he's got his waist slotted between your thighs with his hands up his your shirt while making out. peter pulls at the back of your knees and pulls you flush to him, subtly pulling your underwear down when the front door opens and you hear loud chatter and laughs.

peter flies backwards and turns his back completely, grabbing cups from the cabinet and pulling orange and apple juice from the fridge. he nods his head in a greeting when ethan walks in, "look who stayed the night," he gave you a fist bump.

peter holds up the juices and you point for the one in his left hand, "yup, couldn't get her to leave if i tried."

that makes you feel shitty, "no, you absolutely could. you could've said 'hey, you should go,' instead of 'let me make you breakfast and fuck you on the kitchen island.'"

tarrent's next in the kitchen, "bro, your chicks got buttcheeks on the counter."

peter places a hand on your lower back, "let's stop looking at my girls ass and let her get upstairs." he holds your arm as you jump down, tugging his shirt down to cover your bottom completely.

you speed up the steps, then call out, "i like my toast dark!" before you could hit the landing you heard ethan, "you so like her."

"gross, shut up, keznek."

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

the final time you arrived to a party late and searched around until you found him talking in a small huddle of his friends so you walked up with a happy grin and pushed yourself up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"hi, handsome." the most subtle shift away, "hey," you watched him look around the room, "got any friends here?" that must mean he doesn't see himself as one, how rude.

if he doesn't want you acting like you know him outside of fucking that's fine with you. but he doesn't get to act one way around you and another around his friends, it's confusing and unfair.

"you know what, peter? you suck."

you hear his friends scoff and softly 'oo' when you walk off, peter calls out behind you, "what does that mean?" you wanted to turn around and tell him off, but you think giving him a taste of his own medicine is better.

so, you go straight to the kitchen to down three shots and grab a cup of whatever so you could jumpstart the peter hate train. it took a while, but you finally made him break away from his friend group when you'd been in an unbroken conversation with a random guy for ten minutes.

"hey, where you been?" a territorial arm is thrown around your waist, you brush his hand off and step to the side. "hey, i'll catch up with you in a minute."

and that makes peter want to explode. you're blowing him off for some random guy? some guy that's mostly no threat?"

"well-"

you gesture to the side with your head, "see you later, parker." and to stab him a little harder when he turns his back you shake your head and beam a smile, "sorry, he's kinda weird. what were you saying?"

but when you don't even find him after and wonder into the kitchen he's almost seething. peter walks up behind you and tugs at your arm, "hey, what the fuck was that?"

innocently, "what are you talking about?"

"well, let's see, trouble." he starts counting with his fingers, "you threw my arm off you, you blew me off, you cut me off, um, parker? then you said i was weird and you apologized on my behalf when i all was trying to do was talk to you."

you pout sarcastically, "oh, did i? i'm sorry, i just know how you are with me hanging all over you around your friends." peter dares look confused, "what do you mean?"

"oh!" you blink fast, "you hate it! so, i refuse to do it. and going forward, we'll keep the same energy, so no more hanging around after sex."

"no, what? why do you think i hate it? i mean, where's this coming from?" is... peter panicking a little?

"peter, you pull away and act like you don't know me everytime your friends come around. you act one way when we're alone and another when someone from the house comes around, it's unfair."

"it's not personal, trouble! if they figure out how much i like you i'll never hear the end of it."

"so... you're emotionally manipulating me because you don't want to be teased?"

when you put it like that it makes him feel terrible.

"no! yes? but not purposely. and hey, from now on, no more pulling away. even if i get roasted by every one. you have my word."

"i don't believe you."

that means prove it.

peter grabs your hips and lifts you to plop you on the counter next to the sink, he moved with such accuracy you yelp and rest your hand over his. before you could say anything ethan glides into the kitchen, unfazed by the sight.

"yo, parker, will you grab... and nevermind," just to prove a point, he kissed you while his best friend was mid question and watching.

[verstappentime]

anyway here’s more maxiel divorce verse for anyone who’s a bit sad about today’s race. <3 (part 1 here, part 2 here)

“Stay,” Max says, rushed, before Charles can get anything else out.

“Okay,” Daniel says. He tries to clear the lump in his throat. He’s been waiting for Max to say that word, but this is as close as he’ll get, probably. “Tilt your head forward for me.” Max does; Daniel gingerly presses the ice where his head meets his neck.

Max hisses, reaching up to grab Daniel’s forearm. It’s been so long since Max initiated touch with him; Daniel forces himself not to jolt.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Max groans, gradually loosening his grip. “Can we do the bathtub thing?”

“The– Oh, yeah, sure. Charles, do you have a bath?”

“I feel like you are being the doctor and I am the nurse,” Charles says. He’s hovering closer than a second ago. “Yes, I do, is it for something weird?”

“It’s not for anything weird. Can you fill it up with hot water? As hot as it can get without burning.”

“Fine. But it’s for him.” It’s too dark for Daniel to see the look Charles is giving him. Just as well.

Daniel stays there, crouched beside Max, keeping the ice pressed to his neck. Max’s breaths are shallow, like he’s trying really hard not to wince, but he’s mostly failing. “The medicine is gonna help,” he says, just for something to say. In the dark, eyes closed, Max reaches around for his hand. Daniel links their fingers, squeezing hard. Max’s hand is clammy and he can’t get a good grip on Daniel, all weak and floppy. “Tell me what feels bad?”

Max turns his face into a couch cushion, making a tiny whining sound. “It’s– what do you say? The whole nine yards? I scared Charles with the throwing up.” He’s talking more, which is a good sign.

“It’s fine,” Daniel says. “He called me and I’m here now, so it’s fine.” He presses his thumb against where Max’s jaw meets his cheek. He’s so tense everywhere.

Charles comes back into the room. “The water’s in the bath. I’m saying again to not do anything weird.”

“We are going to do something so weird,” says Max. He groans as he swivels his legs around to stand up, pressing on his forehead. “Ah, fuck. Shit.” He grabs Daniel’s wrist, squeezing hard.

“Take it easy,” Daniel says, clearing his throat where it’s all thick. He hates this, he hates that Max hurts, that he’s still hurting, and he— he loves, sort of, that it’s him Max is reaching out for. It’s fucking twisted.

Max doesn’t ask to be helped, so Daniel doesn’t offer, just hovers as Max slowly pushes himself to stand up. But Max is unwieldy, swaying a little, and— and he grabs for Daniel again. Maybe it’s just because Daniel’s seen it all before, because he’s fed him and bathed him and sat with him in the middle of the night, but. He’s still being chosen. “Sorry,” Max says, like Daniel would ever want him to do anything else. “My eyes are not so good.”

“It’s fine. I have you.” I always will, I always fucking will.

Charles waves them through to his master bathroom. In the light, Daniel can see that Max’s left pupil is blown. He’s sweaty and he looks like shit, hair all messed up, but he’s Max, and he’s gorgeous. Daniel wants to hold him.

“Max, yell for me if he is doing anything weird to you,” Charles says, and ducks out of the room. Conceding.

“You could have told him we’re not getting naked.”

“I mean, I am taking my pants off,” Max says. “Can I hold on to you?”

Daniel nods slowly, feeling oddly like he should look away. He watches the ceiling as Max holds onto him for balance.

If Max notices him acting weird, he doesn’t say so. “You’ll get your pants wet,” he says instead.

Oh. Daniel glances to the door, where Charles is not. This isn’t what he expected when he woke up today, he thinks, as he’s stepping out of his jeans.

They sit on the edge of the tub, Daniel pressing the ice pack to Max’s neck. It’s an easy trick; get the circulation down into his lower body and away from his head.

“Charles could do this,” Daniel says, after a moment.

“I know,” Max says. He leans his head on Daniel’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but Daniel knows it: I wanted you. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No.” Maybe he should have lied, or not answered so quickly.

“Good.” Max traces a circle on Daniel’s thigh, over the ship tattoo. “Charles thought I would be angry that you were coming. But I wasn’t.”

“No?”

“No. I was—relieved. I do not like being like that. And Charles is not good in emergencies.”

“You can always call me,” Daniel says. He pictures being at dinner with some girl, or a guy, and bolting because Max isn’t alright. He knows he would.

“I know,” Max says.

[domesticgoddess22]

wish upon a cowboy

prologue

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst word count: 22k+ in progress (prologue 1.8k) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI masterlist here

Late September in Texas was more like summer than it was fall. It’s a whopping 90 degrees outside, or so you guess since a thermometer wasn’t on your list of important things to haul around. You just have an inkling that it’s a sunburn passed 89 with the way the Austin sun scorches your skin. 

You’re gradually making your way across the farmlands out west, one cornfield and run-down farmhouse at a time. All of this walking is making your feet get all blistered and bruised and it was beginning to sour your mood. 

Joel notices.

“‘S wrong?” Joel grumbles over his shoulder. 

“Feet are killin’ me. Can we stop or are we gonna hit every farmhouse in Texas first?”

He mumbles something under his breath before coming to an abrupt stop. You slam into his backpack and he swings around, giving you his full attention. 

“Five minutes,” he says, a deep voice scraping the ground. His face is glistening with sweat and his shirt is half unbuttoned so you can see the tufts of hair poking out from his chest. “Then we need to get movin’.”

It makes sense why he’s in a hurry. Neither of you have much food to last more than a day or two, so Joel was very keen on frequent scavenging, grabbing medicine you might need for later, and sustenance.

“Always in such a rush,” you tease, finding a spot to sit on the dirt road. There’s a subtle smirk on your face that’s quickly wiped away when you rub the soles of your feet, careful not to touch your open sores. You hiss at the odd mixture of relief and pain as you knead into your skin.

Joel chews his cheek in thought and then digs through the front pocket of his pack. He leans down so he’s eye level with you, resting his left hand on his knee as he hands you an aged bottle of Neosporin. “Here. Put this on.” 

You notice how his brown eyes shine gold with the way the sun is angled on his face. The salt and pepper threads of his beard are more defined up close. He’s probably in his mid-late forties. You wish you knew, but he never told you anything about himself. Said it was better that way. 

“Thanks.” 

There’s really so much more you want to know about the man you’ve been shacking up with for the last few weeks. You guys didn't even have a label for what you two were to each other–a team? Partners? You didn’t dare entertain anything beyond that, but a label would guarantee that your relationship was something more permanent and you wouldn’t end up alone in this fucked up world. Again.

You hated that about yourself too–your need to latch on to anyone who showed you a sliver of kindness. Sure, Dad always said that building a network of people you can rely on is a survival instinct. There’s some truth to that nowadays. You knew you wouldn’t make it far without someone strong and sturdy like Joel.

Unfortunately, you’re starting to think this little attachment of yours isn't just about survival.

“Guess you’re not so bad after all?” you say, kicking away your inner thoughts and dotting your sores with nearly dried out cream.

“Ain’t all that bad, huh? What about when I saved your life, kid?” There’s a playful lilt to his tone that you pick up on. He’s normally grumbly and annoyed with you, so it’s as loud as a blaring horn if he’s showing you emotion other than grumpiness.

“Hmmm, I guess I can give you credit for that one.” 

He’s still looking at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips as his shoulders jerk in laughter. You remember meeting Joel like it was yesterday. He found you, a month and some change ago, rotting on the side of the road with a bullet planted in your thigh. Pain dug its nasty claws into the wound, twisting it so it spread down to your knees and up to your groin. Death was coming for you, but you clung to life like you were hanging onto the edge of a cliff, sweaty fingers slipping one by one.

“Ain’t lookin’ good for you, darlin’.” 

“Fuckin’ hunters,” you said, grinding your teeth. You’d curse them with your last breath if you had to. 

“Yeah…” 

“You gonna put my lights out? Put me outta my misery?” Sweat stuck to your upper lip and the world looked all fuzzy and white.

There was a quietness as he stared at you, turning your words over a few times behind his dark brown eyes. And then he said, “Naw, kid. I ain’t gonna do that.”

The only thing that kept you tied to this earth was standing right in front of you now, flannel shirt, rugged exterior, a charming Southern accent, and a smolder that lit a flame in your heart.

It’s possible you caught feelings for him simply because he saved your life. Stopped your bleeding, took you to a doc friend of his and had your bullet removed, and he checked in on you on the daily with a simple how you feelin’, darlin’? Ya need anythin’? And when you asked him to stay with you while you slept one night to keep the night terrors at bay, he did. Even though he didn’t know you, and had no obligation to you, he stayed by your side.

Always loyal, reliable–albeit a little grumpy–Joel. 

You healed up in about a week and a half. Then Joel said he was heading west and asked if you wanted to tag along and you said yes, a little too eagerly at that.

Maybe he was lonely and liked having you around. Didn’t look like he had anyone else. You were a talker afterall, always had something to say to fill the dead space. He’d never say much back, he’d just mumble something here or there and you were convinced that you were just talking to the fields at one point.

Now here you are, sores on your feet from traveling twenty miles with him as he hands you Neosporin. Maybe he did care about you in more than a partner sense. It was a false spark of hope that little crush wasn’t all just a fantasy in your head about an older guy who didn’t seem to reciprocate your feelings whatsoever. 

“Looks like there might be a cornershop down the road there, think you can make it to one last stop before we call it for the night?” Joel drawls, standing back up from his crouching position, groaning as his knees pop from the postural shift.

You cock a brow. “Are you gonna make it?”

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’ll be fine.” 

“Uhuh.”

After a few minutes of rest, you and Joel head down to the old corner shop. If you were lucky, maybe you’d find peanut butter or something to curb your cravings. Joel’s palette for scavenged goods was a little more complex: coffee, whiskey, and canned meats. 

The two of you had a system of operation already. Joel would scout the inside, make sure there weren’t any infected in there, and then when the coast was clear he’d wave you in. It was better this way since you weren’t a pro at dealing with infected just yet.

Through the dusty, broken glass shards of the window, you watch Joel pace up and down the aisles with a steady grip on his shotgun. Shoulders tense, brows furrowed, eyes focused. Hunting.

A few moments later, he waves you in.

You find a box of cereal and granola bars in the breakfast aisle. A smirk peels across your face when you find a 14 oz jar of instant coffee. There was a small sense of accomplishment that bubbled within you whenever you found any of his favorite items.

“Can I interest you in Nescafe?” You pronounce the word like Nescoffee, wiggling your brows and feeling proud that you found something he likes. 

“It’s cafe,”  he lectures and you roll your eyes.

“You’re supposed to say thank you!” you hiss. 

“Mmm,” he hums, stepping towards you, his boots thudding on the old, cracked concrete. “Wasn’t even the good stuff back then, but hell, it feels like it's worth an arm ‘n a leg now.”

“Hmmm. I wouldn’t know the difference.” 

It was true, you were five when it all went down, far too young to remember much from the old world, which felt like a blessing at times since that meant you can't miss what you never really had. 

“‘S probably for the best.”

“Sometimes. But other times I think I would have loved to see the world–all this,” you sweep your hand across the shop, “filled with lights. And life. I wanna taste a fresh cup of coffee from a cafe, wanna eat pie at a diner, learn how to drive a car so I can pass my driver’s test, go to school, work. Go on a date.”

You sigh wistfully. “And then maybe get married, have kids…” there’s an image of before that you’ve pieced in your mind based on stories you’ve read, pictures you’ve come across, and what little memory your five year old self retained. “But… none of that can happen now.”

“Damn, you really thought a lotta ‘bout life from before. They ain’t keepin’ you busy back in the QZ.”

“You got to do all that. Even though it’s gone now, at least you had the chance to feel what it was like to really live.”

A flicker of recognition shines in Joel’s eyes, something you could only assume was memories of his past that he was now forced to reflect on. 

“I’m curious to know how old you are now. Did ya get to do all those things?” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze flitting up to Joel. He shifts his focus to the faded Nescafe label, feeling the old sticker with the pad of his thumb. 

The glimmer of nostalgia–of warm memories–recedes as Joel’s eyes go dark. 

You suck your teeth and then smile sarcastically. “I’m gonna guess you’re old enough to be my daddy.” Teasing Joel was becoming a pastime of yours, and you couldn’t help but flirt a little.

He stiffens for a minute, mouth still permanently sculpted into a frown as he tucks the instant coffee into his backpack. “You gonna look for som’ we can eat or ya just gonna stand there lookin’ pretty?” he growls, and you swear you see his eyes flit to your breasts before stomping away.

You purse your lips together, eyes fixed on his broad shoulders before he disappears behind one of the shelves. You snatch a few cans of tuna and peas, muttering grumpy old man under your breath while you do.

“Think I saw a place down the road where we can stay for the night,” the low timbre of his voice echoes from across the shop. 

Your cheeks burn. You loved sleeping near Joel every night. Made you feel protected–safe.

A small, desperate voice in your head silently wishes you’d be sleeping in his arms this time and not across a campfire.

Maybe this time you’ll finally get to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

~~~

Thank you for reading the prologue! I have about 6 chapters out on Ao3 right now for this story.

[xjulixred45x]

I know I have to work on the requests, but I have to get this out of my head because now I have a rediscovered love for Invincible, bear with it.

(SOMETHING LIKE A CONTINUATION OF THIS)

SOME SITUATIONS WITH YANDERE AU MARK GRAYSON/INVINCIBLE

okay, I can definitely see that you two were a couple or at least liked each other before everything went to hell.

and although you were fine with Mark at that time, when he was being convinced to join the Viltrum empire, he was somewhat seeking your approval. although using very vague assumptions, such as "would you accept an alien race if it meant world peace?" "or if that would help with the development of medicine?" You know, like what Nolan wanted to do at the beginning with Mark. and obviously since you didn't have the context you said yes without hesitation, further fueling Mark's crazy ideas.

I may not have made it very clear in the first part, but you and Nolan definitely don't get along. I mean, he's nice to you in a way, but he treats you like a little kid who needs discipline, so he tries to push Mark into that. Not only that, but you also indirectly blame him for the sudden change in Mark's personality, you know that if Nolan hadn't gotten him into that shit, he wouldn't have so much blood on his hands. The Mark you knew wasn't like that. HE WASNT.

The main reason this Mark doesn't feel angry because of your traditional escape attempts or why he's so soft is because of something our Invincible doesn't usually have, and that's his ARROGANCE. This Mark does not believe that you are capable of running away from him, you are not capable of defending yourself from him, you are not capable of harming him and above all you are not capable of HATE HIM, because he sees you as a soft creature, who should be treated as such because you are confused.

He is delusional, SpongeBob and Squidward level of Delusional. You could perfectly tell him that you hate him, that he's the worst thing that happened to you in your life... and he thinks it's reverse psychology.

"fuck you"

"Is that an invitation?😚"

"I hate you"

"I love you too babe🥰"

"If we were trapped on a desert island I wouldn't hesitate for a second to make a raft with your limbs"

"Silly you, I would take you out flying😘"

Do you see what I'm saying? For the same reason, if you end up hurting him, he would be proud that now you can definitely defend yourself from the Revolutionaries who "kidnap you every now and then" (it's you on the run). dang it, if you hurt him probably even NOLAN would compliment you for doing it despite being "so weak" and would completely approve of you.

(I can already imagine you with a wedding dress and a bouquet of knives...you want to throw it at Mark...in the face)

I think the most Mark does to scare you into escape scenarios is to threaten to throw you and not catch you next time, that's the best he goes. He can't stand the idea of leaving you paralyzed because it would be very boring and sad to see only a shell of you.

He wouldn't kill Eve, but he would never hurt you...physically. Did you see that in the end in their universe they manage to imprison him and get rid of Omniman? you totally didn't let go of Fem! Cecil(Cecilia?) all the way to her base and thanking her with all your heart and tears. Cecilia comforted you awkwardly, but she understood that you must have definitely had a hard time with Mark.

Meanwhile, with Mark already locked up, even if the world is a bit messed up, you can breathe easy for the first time in years, you can leave the base without fear of what happens to the people around you, you can eat without a problem, you can CHAT with people! it's magic! It's like you don't even remember anything before Mark! out of pure fear!

Meanwhile, Mark in prison always asks about you AT LEAST once a day, even if they give him proof that you are WELL and HEALTHY, he just doesn't believe it and DEMANDS to see you to prove it, which they obviously deny him and only makes him think that even more. The guy thinks you must be dying of hunger and cold or being eaten by collotes while you live your best life🤣

"MY POOR BABE! She must be so confused and scared without me! How do I know they're not torturing her for information!? She must be so worried because we're not getting home!" and it goes on and on... meanwhile Darling: "happy~ happy~happy~" "OHHHOOOhhOO, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY!"

For now that's all. I hope the Viltrum empire doesn't come to shit on Darling's happiness☠️

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐓 ( a collection of sentence starters from season one of amazon's fallout show. feel free to adjust the wording and pronouns as needed! do not add to the list. )

❛  and in that respect, he could be a cannibal or just like, crammed full of tumours. ❜ ❛  flesh is weak but steel endures. ❜ ❛  unless you know what to find and preserve, you're more useful as a corpse. ❜ ❛  how do we know they're not feral? ❜ ❛  well what makes you think i give a good goddamn about that? ❜ ❛  well what the fuck would you know 'bout where i'm from? ❜ ❛  but for me, well, i do this shit for the love of the game. ❜ ❛  you come from a place of rules, of laws. this place is indifferent to all of that. ❜ ❛  question is, will you still want the same things when you have become a different animal altogether? ❜ ❛  you earn the suit through acts of bravery. this is an act of bravery. ❜ ❛  and i'm telling you you're gonna go through a whole lot worse if you stay 'round here. trust me. ❜ ❛  clean hair. nice teeth. and all ten fingers. must be nice. ❜ ❛  the vaults were nothing more than a hole in the ground for rich folks to hide in while the rest of the world burned. ❜ ❛  you know your kind ain't welcome here. ❜ ❛  you gotta be fucking kidding me. ❜ ❛  you'll be lucky if you can make it to fucking breakfast. ❜ ❛  i'm sorry for yellin', been shot in the leg. ❜ ❛  do you have anyone else you can trust in this town? ❜ ❛  do i really have to kill him? ❜ ❛  well, if you like the taste of lavender, why not just drink a bottle of perfume? ❜ ❛  that's the worst thing i've ever put in my mouth. that's horrible. ❜ ❛  do unto others as you would have done unto you. ❜ ❛  thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. ❜ ❛  water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink. ❜ ❛  where do you think you're going? you ain't going nowhere. ❜ ❛  there you are, you little killer. ❜ ❛  no! what a disgusting idea. i'm simply going to harvest your organs. ❜ ❛  i may end up looking like you, but i'll never be like you. ❜ ❛  i really wanna believe you but practically every person i've met up here has tried to kill me. ❜ ❛  listen, hey. you don't get this medicine, you're gonna pass out, okay? and if you lose consciousness, we're both gonna die. ❜ ❛  i've seen these in old engineering manuals but never in real life. ❜ ❛  now, seeing as everyone on earth seems to be after that thing, i'm guessing that's what you're looking for too? ❜ ❛  and you could've killed me when i collapsed back there and you didn't. ❜ ❛  i get that trust doesn't come easily up here. but you can trust me. ❜ ❛  i hate it up here. ❜ ❛  the things i'm willing to do for you never cease to amaze me. ❜ ❛  hey, hey, hey. come here. i'm sorry. i know you always try to do the right thing. that's what i love about you. ❜ ❛  trust doesn't come easily to those of us with a guilty conscience. ❜ ❛  in my experience, the apple tends not to fall too far from the tree. is that true in your case? ❜ ❛  these people are hiding something from us, and i'm gonna prove it to you, okay? ❜ ❛  there's always some new little faction, ain't there? brand new team of believers with their own dumbass ideas about how they gonna save the world. ❜ ❛  so what d'you think [name]? am i really walking out of here today, or are you gonna try and draw on me for what i did? ❜ ❛  a good bad guy doesn't see themselves as the bad guy. ❜ ❛  and yet power is taken, not given. a lesson you seem to have learned. ❜ ❛  war never changes. ❜ ❛  you look out at this wasteland, looks like chaos. but there's always somebody behind the wheel. and that's who i wanna talk to. ❜ ❛  maybe you can stop them. maybe you can't. maybe all you can do is try. ❜