#and then I was like 'wait they don't usually say Fuck here'

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 2

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

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

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn’t another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

Your hands are bound behind you, the belt looped through the bars of the wooden chair. Your stomach bubbles uneasily as you watch Bucky paw through your bag. This isn’t happening. How the fuck did you get here? He wasn’t supposed to show up! 

He throws your bag down as he holds your phone. He nears and turns the screen to face you. He waits and checks it. You don’t use facial recognition, the piece of shit’s too cheap to have that feature. He sighs. 

“What’s your code?” he asks. 

“Fuck off,” you snarl. 

His gloved hand balls and he grits his teeth, “don’t make this–” 

You kick out and your heel meets his crotch, his legs folding as he slips to one knee. He inhales with a gristle as he grips his thigh, barely keeping a hold on your phone. He clears his throat and stands. He slams the phone on the table and stomps out. 

You laugh but not for long. He’s back with duct tape. He tapes your legs to the chair and winds several layers around your waist. You shake your head and curl your lip. 

“Look, dude, it’s really not that deep,” you say, “it’s a grift. I squat. Just when people are out of town. I don’t take nothing and I leave everything as it was–” 

“You’re lying,” he taps your phone as he frowns, “and you can keep playing wise but I will figure you out.” He grins, “bingo.” 

He waves your phone, your wallpaper confirming it’s unlocked. You roll your eyes. 

“You should call the police,” you say. 

“So you can lie your way out of this? No thanks,” he swipes as he puts his hand on his hip and turns away. He stops pacing and brings the phone closer to his face. He grimaces, “you're a sick bitch, aren’t you?” 

He tuts and shows you the image of Steve fucking his one night stand. You laugh. “Me? What about your friend?” 

“I’d say the fact you recorded it is a lot more fucked up than him having a bit of fun,” he snorts, “you’re sly. I saw your equipment.” 

“Thanks,” you say smartly. 

“You’re not making this easy on yourself,” he says. 

“Well, you got your evidence so… police?” you divert. 

“You know what the police do to stalkers? Nothing,” he sneers. 

“Stalker? I told you, I’m a squatter–” 

“Enough with that,” he points at you sharply and goes back to scrolling, “hmm,” he hums then says your name aloud, grinning up at you. 

“So.. if no cops, what are you going to do?” you finally let yourself ask. 

“I know how to handle things internally,” he says, “so don’t you worry.” 

“Are you going to call Steve?” 

“Steve?” he scoffs, “you speak as if you know him. You don’t know shit. And no, got a lot more things more important than you.” He runs his gloved fingers over his stubble as the dimple in his chin deepens, “I gotta do some running around.” 

“I thought you were here to water the plants,” you taunt. 

“The ferns can wait,” he says, “you just sit pretty and I’ll be back soon.” 

He tucks your phone in his jacket and grabs his keys from where he dropped them on the table. He disappears into the hall and you heave. Well, what the fuck do you do now? 

The door snaps shut, the beep of the security system follows, and you’re left in silence. You look around the open dining room, the kitchen visible just through the next doorway. You pull at your hands, the belt digging into your wrists. You wriggle, the chair wobbling, as you try to twist your ankles free. 

You grunt in frustration as helplessness floods your chest. The chair tilts forward and you panic, swing back too hard and tip it over completely. Your head hits the floor above the back and it leaves you dizzy as you blink away stars. 

“Shittttttt!” you yell at the ceiling. 

📷

Bucky finds you on the floor. He does nothing to help as you crane to watch him. He puts down a black bag before he nears. He stands by the legs of the chair and kicks the bottom of the seat with his boot. 

“Bored?” he teases, “restless, maybe?” 

“I need to piss,” you huff, not a full out lie. 

“You can wait,” he leaves you there and you listen to his footfalls in dread. The whisper of the zipper as he stops. The rustle of unseen objects, pages flipping as his sole squeaks. 

‘I saw him again today,’ Bucky begins, ‘but he didn’t see me. He never does. I wonder how. Maybe I’m just that invisible.  

But I see him. I see everything he does. Even when he’s not there, I can’t stop. I think about him all the time. Sometimes I pretend my toys are him. Touching me, though I know he never will–” 

“Stop,” you growl, “now.” 

‘It used to be that I’d imagine anyone. Any man touching me, but now the thought of anyone else disgusts me.’ 

You’re quiet, humiliated. More angry than anything. You want to strangle him. You want to smack the smug look off your face you imagine in tandem with his mocking tone.  

“Stop,” you say again, “you think I don’t know what I am. Obviously, I know. I’m stupid enough to write it down.” 

He laughs and you hear the journal hit the table. He strides around the chair and stands beside you. He watches you, squats to look you in the face. 

“No, I don’t think you realise how fucking sad you are,” he says, “how pathetic.” 

“You think you’re the first to tell me,” you sneer, “I know, asshole. But I never hurt anyone and wasn’t going to start. I just watch–” 

“Break and enter as well, huh?” He smirks, “I mean, you can tell a lot about a person by where they live. Found out a hell of a lot about you, doll.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss. 

“Small place,” he stands, “cramped. Guess a rat like you doesn’t need much. Couple packs of ramen and a bottle of vodka. I had better rations in 1944.” 

“What about Hydra? They feed you well?” you retort. He’s silent. “Hit a soft spot? I’m sure a cyborg like you didn’t need much.” 

He kicks the chair and it jolts you. It’s your turn to laugh. He puts his foot on the crossbar and swings you back up to four feet. You teeter but stay upright, chafing in your bonds. 

“You really are that stupid, aren’t you?” he chides. 

You shrug and glance at the wall, “I really do need to piss.” 

“You think you’re going to get out of this one?” he asks. 

“I just want to go to the–” 

“I’m not worried about you making a run for it, doll,” he leans against the table and slides a thumb in his pocket, “I mean, what do you think is going to happen here? You think I’m gonna give you a lecture and let you walk?” 

“Haven’t thought about it really,” you say flippantly, “guess I assumed you’d revert a little. Clean up the problem the way you used to do when you had that red star stamped on ya–” 

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. His hand is on your throat as he bends to snarl, “shut your fucking mouth or I’m gonna break it.” 

You grin as you choke down air and make a show of clamping your lips together. You raise your brows and he stiffly rescinds his hand. He rounds the chair and tears through the tape before unbuckling the belt. Your arms fall loose but he grabs you by the back of your neck, pinching so you cry out and claw at his hand. 

“I squeeze any tighter and I’ll do some real damage,” he warns as he guides you to your feet, “then you won’t be running anywhere ever again. Got it?” 

“Sure,” you grit out as pain ripples down your spine. 

He grunts and urges you into the front room and down the hall. He enters the bathroom with you and flips up the seat. He releases you and takes a step back, a hand on the counter as he stares. 

“Um, a bit of privacy?” 

“You go now or not at all,” he demands, “so…” 

You exhale sharply and turn, unbuttoning your pants as you focus on the wall. You push your jeans down and sit, a slight pause before you manage to trickle out just a little. Your bladder releases and the pressure relents, leaving you lighter but not relieved. You wipe, pull your jeans up as you stand, and flush. 

He grabs your arm and yanks you back into the hallway. His metal grip makes your muscles burn as he drags you on. You glance across the front room, the doors not that far.  

You push your toe under the carpet so it catches and you stumble, pulling him back with your unexpected falter. “Hey, stay on your f–” 

You stomp his toe and he recoils as he grunts. You spin awkwardly, barely staying up right as you scramble away. You knock over the tall vase by the doorway as you flee. He tackles you from behind and you plummet forward, hitting the floor as he lands on you. You wheeze as your ribs ache beneath his weight. 

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ heavy,” you snarl into the hardwood. 

“And you’re fucking stubborn,” he raps his knuckles on the back of your skull as he pushes off you. He plants his feet on either side of you and lifts you, both hands on your arms as he steadies you, “stupid, too.” 

You scoff as he urges you back down the hall and shoves you through to the dining room. His hand crawls up to your neck and he bends you over the table. You growl and kick out your feet as you pick at his impenetrable grip. 

“Like I said, had some running around to do,” he reaches into his bag with his free hand, “got some things to keep you in line.” 

He circles his fingers around your wrist and a metal cuff expands around it. Then he does the same to the other. He lets go of you and steps back. You straighten as he takes out his phone and taps the screen, your wrists snap together behind you, as if magnetised. You struggle as the force sets you off kilter. 

“Neat little gadget, usually reserved for sinister individuals but they’ll do for you too,” he frames your shoulders and angles you around, urging you back into the chair, “since you want to make this interesting.” 

You scowl and say nothing. He really is annoying. He goes back to his bag and reaches in again. He returns to you and secures another pair of cuffs around your ankles. You try to kick out as he does and he squeezes your leg meanly. You snarl and sit back angrily.  

He pushes a pin into each leg of the chair and stands. He picks up his phone again and your ankles attach to the wooden legs. He rounds you and parts your wrists, pulling them between the bars and letting them snap back together behind them. 

“We’re gonna be here a while and I’m not in the mood to be chasing you around,” he goes to the table and sets his phone down. 

He peels off his jacket and drapes it over another chair. He sits and retrieves the cell, his thumb moving lazily across it as he ignores you. You furrow your brow. There’s no give in the restraints. 

“Not exactly how I wanted to spend my night,” he grumbles as he smirks at you, “not that I had any plans.” 

“No plans? A gem like you? How are the girls not lining up?” you roll your eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he scoffs. 

You shrug and sit back. You’re starting to feel the toll of the night; stuck in that chair, pinned under his weight, the knock to your head. You’re tired but you can’t let him see it. 

📷

The smell of food makes your stomach growl. You can’t remember the last time you ate. It’s a bad habit. You eat only when it hurts and it fucking hurts. 

Bucky sits at the table with his paper bag and cup and eagerly peers inside. You try not to stare, instead focusing on your lap. You salivate as your guts knot with temptation. You listen to the rustle of wrappers and Bucky moans as he takes his first bite, chewing loudly. 

You exhale through tight lips. It’s deliberate, you know it. It’s his specialty, isn’t it? Torture? Cruelty? You peek up from beneath your lashes as he scarfs down a mouthful of fries. 

“Oh, you know what,” he sits back and grabs a napkin, wiping his fingertips, “I didn’t even think. I should’ve ordered you some. You must be starving.” 

“I’m fine,” you insist as you drop your gaze and your stomach rumbles loudly. 

“Sounds like it,” he slurps from his cup, “we’re all human, so if you’re hungry, all you gotta do is ask nicely–” 

“Human? You?” you look at his left arm, concealed under his henley and gloves, “sure. I told you, not hungry.” 

“Alright,” he grabs the burger and takes another sloppy bite. You turn your face away and ignore the pangs deep in your gut. “You really should consider a bit of common decency,” he says through a mouthful, “make it easy on yourself.” 

“Why’s that?” you mutter, shoulders sore from the awkward position as you try not to lean back on your arms. 

“I don’t have to be an asshole,” he says. 

“Really? You have more than one mode?” you snip. 

“What do you think’s gonna happen when Steve gets here?” he asks and shoves the last bit of his burger in his mouth. He watches you as he chews. 

“Does it matter? What I think or what happens?” you glower, staring at the faded denim of your jeans. “You saw my apartment, you think I have much to lose?” 

“You’re alive,” he ventures. 

“If that’s what you call it,” you laugh darkly, “so, that’s it? He’s gonna kill me? You lost your spine or something?” 

“You’re pretty self-aware for someone so pathetic,” he remarks as he shovels up more fries. 

“My sole virtue,” you say mockingly, “at least I know what I am.” 

“Do you? Do you really understand how fucked in the head you are?” 

“I should ask you the same,” you counter. 

He laughs and scoops up some more fries, “right, well, these next few days are going to be fun.” 

He stands and cleans up the garbage, shoving it all into the paper bag. He crumples it as he goes into the kitchen and you hear the lid of the bin as he tosses it. The light flicks off as he returns and he nears you. You sit rigidly as he grabs the back of the chair and tilts it back. 

He drags you out of the dining room and into the living room without a word. He shoves the coffee table over with his foot and puts you right in front of the couch. He lets the chair fall to four feet and strides away. 

You watch him as he makes up the couch with a sheet tucked around the cushions, a pillow against the arm, and a blanket on top. He pushes his head to one side than the other, a loud crack releases the tension. He sits and unties his boots, sliding them off as he focuses on the task. 

He strips down to his briefs and undershirt, as if you’re not even there. He settles onto the couch with a sigh, a bit too big for it but unbothered by that fact. He shifts as he plays with his phone and a voice suddenly rises from the speaker. He puts it on the back of the couch and lets it play, some narrative of a forgotten battle. He folds his arms behind his head and sighs. 

“Helps me sleep,” he smirks as he closes his eyes, “might help you too… if you can get comfortable.” 

[tanukitsuneko-suki]

build episode 34 thoughts:

- episode title "the separated best match" so uh does anyone want to tell me something :-|

- my son's so fucking stupid that the moment a person introduces himself with 3+ names he starts to get confused. and i say that with love . i love him so much

- ENOUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GUARDS SHUT THIS MAN UP IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!!!!!

- love the implication that he's apparently a certified planet ending villain freak but he still has to iron his own clothes. being a supervillain doesn't pay well you guys. that's how you know he's doing it for the love of game

- I'D BURN THROUGH EVERY SOUL I KNEW. IF I THOUGHT THE FIRE WAS WARMING YOU

- haha..wait..if evolt has the evol driver + the pandora box is here + the other bottles will arrive soon + AND banjo's in the area??? aw fuck off LMFAOOOOOOOOOOO

- me pretending idgaf so evolt leaves banjo the fuck alone:

- i just. started laughing uncontrollably. out loud.

- CLOSE ENOUGH WELCOME BACK PARAEMUUUUUUUUUUUU

- well i uhh...i have Thoughts

- would stalk x banjo be technically selfcest or are they mixed with enough external elements for it to count as a usual ship. is what i wanted to ask. um

- (scratches head) i need to rewatch ex-aid after this i think

- if i have a dollar for every time a villain is revealed to be the enemysona of my oshi i would have two dollars......

- don't get me wrong i am deathly entertained and i'm currently running some evil ryusen plots in my head atm and it's killing me how the one part of evolt who had forgotten who he was and met sento managed to learn how to continue loving and hoping the best for a world that has done nothing but wrong him but like. i need a moment. or two

- i mean. he could be lying you know. he doesn't really have a very good track record when it comes to trust, banjo-kun

- man. okay

- i should repost that one reply i made about selflessness vs selfishness parallels when it comes to senryu bc this time i have receipts. what the fuck man

- fourth gay montage

- senryu should just start dating already. what the fuck

- my son's gonna fucking die

- i have a bad feeling. banjo's left standing there but. uh. mm.

- he... he's not... it can't be. right??

- haha it's not like they fucking merged finally or whatever bc banjo reached the correct hazard right lol haha. lol. no. i'm not trying to escape from playing the episode. totally

- i can't fucking do this. i can't fucking do this

- what happened to his hair lmao

- clearly fucking not

- HIS HAIR LOOKS SO UGLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY TAKE IT BACK EVOLT YOU FUGLY ASSSSSSSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- my wife..... come back from the war....

- the voice is taking me tf out

- WIFE THIS ISN'T YOU. COME BACK TO MEEEEEEEEE

- sento waking up to a fugly ass hairstyle LMFAOOOOOO

- EIJI AKASO YOU SHOULD'VE STOOD YOUR GROUND. THIS HAIR IS UGLY. EIJI WHY DID YOU LET THE HAIRSTYLISTS GET AWAY WITH THIS. EIJI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- on closer inspection it's not that bad but i'm deathly entertained by this plot twist so he should've been hotter for maximum effect!!!!!!!!

- anyway i need evolt to die

[boobabietch]

Chapter VII: “A Game To Remember: O’Hara And Taurasi’s Night Didn’t End At The Buzzer” | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: Smut :)

A/N: So, hello. I know I've been MIA, and I am very sorry for that, but I have a reason. First of all, per usual, college is kicking my fucking ass. It's clear who is who's bitch, and honestly, uni already put me a leash, okay? But I gotta say guys, this chapter is probably one of my favorites so far. Also, I've been taking so long between updates because I kind of lost where I was going with all of this, so I had to sit back, reconnect with all, and, you know, plan something new. But it's all good. Chapter 8 is already in the works, and honestly, it's kind of finished, so it should come very very soon, I want to say the weekend, but don't trust me on that, because yeah, I don't want to be that girl. But as I said, I loved this chapter with all my heart. I hope you guys love it too, because this took a while. As always, English is not my first language, so if you find something that is wrong, please tell me ASAP so I can change it, likes, reblogs and comments(!!!) are super appreciated and my ask box is always open. And I have nothing else to say, so I hope you enjoy! Love, Sof :)

Making headlines masterlist

I told myself I wouldn’t lose my mind over this.

I told myself it was just a game.

I told myself a lot of shit that turned out to be fucking lies.

It had been weeks, weeks of pretending like my body didn’t betray me every time I closed my eyes. Weeks of pretending that I hadn’t spent every night tangled in sheets that suddenly felt too empty. Weeks of pretending that the kiss didn’t mean anything. That Diana hadn’t dug herself so deep into my brain that I couldn’t get her out even if I tried.

But now, the wait was over. The schedule had finally lined up.

Las Vegas Aces vs. Phoenix Mercury.

Victoria O’Hara vs. Diana fucking Taurasi.

I had spent every second leading up to this game trying to convince myself that nothing had changed. That she was still just a rival, just another obstacle in my way. I’d stared at myself in the mirror that morning, gripping the sink so hard my knuckles turned white, and I told myself Victoria, you’re being fucking stupid. This is just a game.

Not a rivalry. Not a friendship. Not whatever the fuck that kiss was.

Just a game.

So I walked into that arena with my head held high, my mind locked in. I was ready. I was going to play like a beast, and I was going to win.

And for a while, it worked.

From the moment the ball tipped off, I was locked in. My body moved on instinct, footwork crisp, shots falling, defense locked. I wasn’t thinking about her. I wasn’t thinking about anything except the weight of the ball in my hands and the sound of the crowd with every bucket.

I wasn’t thinking about her.

Even when we brushed past each other on the court.

Even when I felt the heat of her body inches from mine on defense.

Even when she fouled me, gripping my waist a little too long before letting go.

Nope. Not thinking about her. Not thinking about her lips. Not thinking about-

Fucking hell, focus.

So I did. I shrugged off the tension. I kept my mind in the game, not on Diana. And I fucking owned it.

Triple-double. Complete domination.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, I had done what I came here to do. We won. I played like a monster. I proved I didn’t need to think about her to be great.

I should have felt satisfied. Instead, all I felt was exhausted.

I changed quickly, barely acknowledging the celebration around me, just wanting to get to my car, to get home, to sleep, if I even could.

But the moment I stepped out into the parking lot, I froze. Because nothing can be that perfect, because god hates me, because there she fucking was.

Leaning against the hood of a car like she had every right to be there, arms crossed, looking like she had been waiting for me.

You have to be fucking shitting me.

I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. “No. No, no, no. I am not doing this right now.”

She smirked, pushing off the car. “Didn’t even say hi first, baby. That’s rude.”

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t call me that.”

Her smirk widened. “You’re really gonna act like nothing happened?”

I threw my hands up. “That kiss? Didn’t mean anything. It was the heat of the moment. Happens to the best of us. Move on.”

Her eyebrows raised like she was amused, like I was some little kid throwing a tantrum. “Yeah? Heat of the moment?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been sleeping just fine since then, huh?”

I stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She took a step closer. I took one back.

“You sure about that?”

I hated how easily she saw through me. Hated how her voice sent a shiver down my spine. Hated how I couldn’t run from this conversation because my body was already betraying me, drawn to her like she was fucking magnetic.

“You should go,” I muttered. “Go with your team to your hotel. I don’t even know why you’re here. Why are you here?”

She tilted her head, watching me like I was something interesting, something worth figuring out. “Because you haven’t stopped thinking about me. And I wanted to see what you’d do about it.”

I swallowed hard. I was so fucking tired. Tired of running from this. Tired of pretending. Tired of fighting myself.

“I just want you to go” I whispered, my voice cracking in a way that made my stomach twist. “This is my job, okay? Basketball is my job. That’s what we are. We are rivals in our workplace. That’s what we are. Nothing else.”

She stepped closer. “You know damn well we’re not that.”

And that’s when I snapped.

I shoved her back and tried to walk away, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to feel something other than the mess of emotions clawing at my chest. But she caught my wrist before I could pull away, and suddenly we were close, too close, her breath warm on my lips.

I hated this. I hated her. I hated the way my body responded like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

“You drive me fucking insane,” I whispered.

She smirked. “I know.”

Then I was kissing her.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t careful, it was reckless, it was raw. Teeth, tongues, hands gripping wherever they could.

And suddenly, I wasn’t in the parking lot anymore.

Suddenly, we were in my apartment.

Suddenly, clothes were on the floor.

Suddenly, Diana Taurasi was knuckle-deep inside me, and I could finally, finally, stop pretending.

She was everywhere, her mouth on my throat, her hands holding me open, her body pressed against mine like she never wanted to leave. And fuck, it was better than I imagined, better than the dreams that had kept me up at night.

It wasn’t just sex.

It was everything.

The hate, the competition, the year and a half of tension, the unspoken questions neither of us wanted to answer. It was the fire in my veins when she kissed me, the ache in my chest when she whispered my name against my skin.

It was need.

Her hands burned where they touched me, her mouth leaving bruises in places no one else had dared to mark in so long. My body reacted to her like it had been waiting for this, for her.

“Fuck, Vic,” she muttered against my lips, her fingers gripping my hips as I pulled her closer.

Vic.

Not Victoria. Not O’Hara. Vic.

Like she knew me. Like she had the right. Like she belonged here.

And the worst part? It sounded good coming from her. I could get used to the sound of my name coming out of her lips while she moaned it against my skin, while her teeth sank into my shoulder, while her fingers pumped inside me, knuckle deep, stretching me open until I was gasping for air.

I could get used to Vic being the last thing she said before she buried her face between my thighs, before her tongue flicked against my clit, before she had me gripping her hair guiding her deeper, begging, fucking begging, for more.

I could get used to Diana Taurasi knowing exactly how I sound when I break.

I could get used to it real fucking fast.

I gasped as she grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze, her thumb brushing over my parted lips before slipping inside. Her other hand trailed lower, teasing, just enough to make me squirm.

She smirked, voice low and smug.

"You like making things difficult, don't you, baby?"

I hated her.

I hated her.

And I whimpered when her leg hooked over mine, her hips pressing flush against me, the slick heat of her rubbing against me in a rhythm that made my head spin, arching off the bed as she swallowed my moans with her mouth.

It wasn’t just hate sex.

It wasn’t just love sex.

It was war.

Every thrust, every touch, every breath was a battle neither of us wanted to win. We just wanted to feel it. To consume and be consumed. To take and be taken.

I held onto her like she was the only thing keeping me grounded, and maybe she was.

Because when the world faded to nothing but the feeling of her, I realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t just sex.

This was her owning me.

And I let her.

I came undone beneath her, around her, because of her. And she knew it. She knew it in the way she slowed down just enough to make me whimper, in the way she murmured, “that’s it, baby” against my ear, in the way she never took her eyes off me as I fell apart.

And when it was over, I laid there, trying to catch my breath, my body thrumming with exhaustion and something terrifyingly close to satisfaction.

But then I heard movement.

I turned my head just in time to see her pulling on her clothes. My chest tightened as I sat up. “You’re leaving?”

She didn’t answer right away. She just zipped up her hoodie, redid that fuckass slick-back bun she’s always wearing, and then, then she walked back over.

She leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead.

Then she whispered something, something I couldn’t even process through the haze in my mind.

“You’re mine, baby.”

And then she left.

I sat there, in the empty room, the only evidence of her presence the lingering scent of her and the dull ache between my legs.

I laid there, feeling everything.

The ache in my body. The heat still lingering in my skin. The growing, crushing realization that she had just wrecked me and left.

I stared at the door, waiting. Hoping.

It never opened again.

I exhaled, closing my eyes. I didn’t know what the fuck just happened. I didn’t know what we were. But I knew one thing

I was in so much trouble.

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

[thatwitchrevan]

so Morven isn't the first Oxventure character to canonically say 'fuck' but is that the first time it's been clear and uncensored?

[inkskinned]

it's extremely critical that you see the photo of the perp walk for luigi mangione as being propaganda. i've seen so many people wave it off and instead fawn over his looks. and trust me, i know it ended up being kind of pathetic and weird - but please don't brush it off as a "modelling opportunity" for him. it's a fucking terrifying message the police are sending.

i want to make a few comparisons here, in case you're not from the US or familiar with why the perp walk thing is something to pay attention to. just to set the groundwork for why this is a purposeful, unusual, and cruel act by the nyc police - for why this is not a common occurrence and for why that matters.

the prosecution alleges the show of force is due to the charge of "terrorism." for comparison, in june 2015, tsarnaev was found guilty for the boston marathon bombing, which killed 3 people and injured hundreds. his actions are considered to be an act of domestic terrorism. i have spent the last hour looking through google for pictures of similar to mangione's perp walk - and so far, i have found zero. i also just do not personally remember a moment like that, despite living in boston at the time.

they allege that luigi is a stone-cold killer who carried out a longterm plan, making him particularly dangerous. again for comparison: in nyc, recently cory martin was found guilty of the killing of brandy odom. the murder was planned and premeditated to steal insurance money. and yet no staged perp walk. why didn't her life matter enough for a "show of force"?

but mangione gets paraded by a veritable army of police officers as if he is a rabid animal. for a single citizen who allegedly killed one other single citizen, the "largest perp walk ever" occurs.

so what is the "strong message" that the mayor and the police were trying to send here? the mayor speaks as if mangione is already convicted of terrorism. there is a very thin number of people who feel threatened by the CEO's death. none of us felt like mangione needs to be under massive armed guard.

the message is that you shouldn't resist. they are trying to "make an example" of him - that if you behave badly and kill a single rich person, you'll be treated as if you killed hundreds of people. you will be treated worse than a man who was found guilty of terrorism. you will be considered guilty without trial. the message is that the rich are a protected class, and you cannot touch them without massive punishment. they are trying to prevent a revolution by showing dominance and force against you.

the message is that the police are a puppet of the wealthy and that the law is not equally applied across class disparity. it is "some are more equal than others." it is "one life is more precious than another."

the show of force wasn't for luigi. it was for us. it was a warning. they are trying to remind us who is really in control.

[hesgomorrah]

every time i see someone make the "trapper didn't leave a note" argument i lose 5 years off my life fr

[koko2unite]

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[front-facing-pokemon]

[balkanballad]

had a day that made me think oh that was a bit heavy on the symbolism, wasn't it

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

I found someone in my classroom!!! She's so cool and I've sat next to her last year and she always loves to talk and I loved to listen to school recent gossip and this year she's on my latin classes and we've been getting back in touch and!!! And!!! We discovered we both have similar ideas!! I'm explaining her anarchist theory and she shares acab media she just discovered, we circle the 13/12 date in the classroom blackboard and run, I send her tutorials I've discovered on how to do moss graffiti and she asks for information about world events and if I don't know about them we investigate together and then we exchange opinions!! And this, this is so special to me, because I've been trying to connect with someone in my surroundings, and there wasn't— interest. Like I talk and there's this tight smile on my friends face. And. And sometimes it breaks my heart? But this. This is so fucking cool.

[bbygirlverstappen]

.

[fireheartedpup]

My parents like to do this thing where they invite me over, don't specify a specific time, don't text until the time they expect me to be there, and then ask why I got there late.

I'm not gonna let it get to me today but it still sucks.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

well, well, well, if it isn't my old nemesis: Dialogue Between Three (3) People

[ishikawayukis]

watching people from the states fight over who had the biggest earthquake when they don't even go over 7 is kinda funny

[transgender-catboy]

I love my friends