#i saw this vision of him in a dream

[theblaseharbinger]

May your days be merry and bright! 🌟

[dreamyluigi]

something something luigi doesn't remember the final events of spm or dimentio at all after he's defeated (but mario remembers everything)

[fabdante]

This is probably just the high of finishing season 2 talking, but like. Can we get whoever did Arcane to do a DMC reboot show? Maybe as a reboot of the reboot? Or at least a sequel?

Like, just. People who love and respect the source material/preboot! But can also take that and craft something good based on those source materials that kinda does its own thing! And is actually good!

Just. My kingdom for some good character writing for DMC stuff. Preboot and reboot, tbh.

I'll be honest I kinda like...idk perhaps I'm in the minority but I don't really want more extended universe dmc stuff? Like I'm firmly in the 'I don't want a DmC2' camp and I'm also not particularly jazzed about the upcoming anime. IDK like more official works on the reboot in particular for me over the years has just become something I'm not interested in. I've spent a lot of time with the material and I've put thought into how I'd like for it to be followed up and I'm just...so confident it would not at all be what I want and it'd leave me disappointed and with a lot of work that would just now feel pointless.

I do, however, realize most of the fandom hasn't been making a like 250k prequel about Kat and Vergil that's been stuck in development hell and would probably not be bothered by any of this asdfghjkl

I do think it'd be interesting to see what Fortiche could do with Devil May Cry, any of the Devil May Crys. Though I'm not sure what they'd do with it given how much less...complex it is I guess? Not that the story has to have as many moving parts as Arcane for Fortiche to do a good job but still. I do think, though, with the new Netflix anime and Fortiche focusing on their own projects and new Riot projects that them doing anything for anyone else is not very likely (very much a shame I'd have LOVED to see what they'd do with Warcraft. The story of Warcraft is so ripe to be cleaned up, fixed up, and released in a comprehensive and coherent way, like the Warcraft cinematics team are incredible themselves but I'm still pretty sure there's only a handful of them. Warcraft just has such good meat in there that I'd really love to see someone else pick up and put together)

If I were to get my dream project from Fotiche on DMC/DmC I guess what I would like is either a much more slowed down and polished soft remake of what we get with the reboot. Like a version of it that really gets to take it's time. Though it would lose a lot of it's campiness asdfghj for good or for bad. For the preboot I mean there's a lot there with the preboot if they wanted to just go through the whole brother saga. Like across the board for both preboot and reboot, given Fortiches focus on writing complex and intense family dynamics that we see in Arcane, it'd be interesting to see how that'd play out in their interpretation because at the end of the day both Devil May Cry's are about like family bonds, both born into and forged, and what loyalty we do or don't have to those bonds and legacies. I think either would definitely be a good series, in the very least.

It's a bummer though as I'm like...really not confident in the new anime and would much rather have this asdfghjk

[mayoiayasep]

es characters based on if they do the ojou-sama laugh

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

There’s something weird I never noticed before. So in ASOS, Stannis tells Davos that he saw the upcoming battle against the Others in one of Melisandre’s fires.

The ashes were white, rising in the updraft, yet all at once it seemed as if they were falling. Snow, I thought. Then the sparks in the air seemed to circle, to become a ring of torches, and I was looking through the fire down on some high hill in a forest. The cinders had become men in black behind the torches, and there were shapes moving through the snow. For all the heat of the fire, I felt a cold so terrible I shivered, and when I did the sight was gone, the fire but a fire once again. But what I saw was real, I’d stake my kingdom on it.

- Davos IV, ASOS

The “men in black behind torches��� seems to suggest Night’s Watchment who are in the process of confronting the Others (“shapes moving through the snow”). I think it’s quite interesting that there is a sort of Azor Ahai imagery with these men, as they hold burning torches.

But then as I was reading this passage, I was suddenly reminded of one of Patchface’s jingles.

“Under the sea, it snows up,” said the fool, “and the rain is dry as bone. I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.”

- Prologue, ACOK

And I got to thinking, it seems that Patchface and Stannis are seeing the same thing (snow “falling” upward). Stannis also sees snow falling downwards, which kind of evokes a cycle. We don’t really know exactly what Patchface saw since the entire section contains several broken up and vague “prophecies”.

But regarding what we do know, my initial assumption was that Patchface’s jingle was essentially about death and the rising of wights. But then I also considered that he could also be referring to Jon Snow who seemingly dies at the end of ADWD and might be resurrected in TWOW.

They found Her Grace sewing by the fire, whilst her fool danced about to music only he could hear, the cowbells on his antlers clanging. “The crow, the crow,” Patchface cried when he saw Jon. “Under the sea the crows are white as snow, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.” Princess Shireen was curled up in a window seat, her hood drawn up to hide the worst of the greyscale that had disfigured her face.

- Jon XI, ADWD

P.S: Coincidentally, Jon would (more generally) be among the men in black presented in Stannis’ vision since he is a member of the Night’s Watch; these men are also referred to as crows.

And speaking of Jon, we know that Melisandre has received visions of Jon’s death and possible rebirth.

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him. Melisandre had seen his danger before, had tried to warn the boy of it. Enemies all around him, daggers in the dark. He would not listen.

[…]

“What do you see, my lady?” the boy asked, softly. Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.

[…]

Yet now she could not even seem to find her king. I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R’hllor shows me only Snow.

- Melisandre I, ADWD

So Mel is seeing Jon in danger, but the “now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again” seems to suggest that he will return. She has tried to rely this information to Jon and we get a rather funny exchange, where Jon assumes that the “snow” Mel is talking about is frozen rain.

“And what of Mance? Is he lost as well? What do your fires show?”

“The same, I fear. Only snow.”

Snow. It was snowing heavily to the south, Jon knew. Only two days’ ride from here, the kingsroad was said to be impassable. Melisandre knows that too. And to the east, a savage storm was raging on the Bay of Seals. At last report, the ragtag fleet they had assembled to rescue the free folk from Hardhome still huddled at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, confined to port by the rough seas. “You are seeing cinders dancing in the updraft.”

- Jon X, ADWD

Note: I searched “updraft” and got this definition: “an upward current of air.”

Jon thinks Mel is talking about the very literal snow moving upward(?) in the air, but she says,

“I am seeing skulls. And you. I see your face every time I look into the flames. The danger that I warned you of grows very close now.”

Not snow, but Snow.

And just a final (random) thought to wrap this all up,

“One bird croaking my name was bad enough,” said Jon, “and snow’s nothing a black brother wants to hear about.” Snow often meant death in the north.

- Jon II, ACOK

Hmmm 🤔



[blue-jacket-blues]

i can't stop thinking about the implications of time-travel ghost hallucinations occurring through overlaps.

pre-Fog AU where caleb ends up with bad sleep paralysis episodes after he's sent to prison. every time he wakes up in the middle of the night unable to move, he hallucinates a stranger standing in his cell. sometimes they're in the hallway, staring in. sometimes beside the door. sometimes they're beside his cot, staring down at him. in the dim light of the cell he can't make out anything but their eyes. he adjusts to prison life and the episodes eventually stop coming, though rumors of a ghost in the hallway still circulate among the prisoners on his cell block.

then, years later and an impossible distance away, he comes to somewhere in the Fog. the entity's grip has loosened on his mind and the terror and confusion of his situation begins to sink in. where is he? how did he get here? what was he doing just now?

and in his new panic he comes face to face with the entity he'd seen in his nightmares all those years ago. and she knows him by name. knows everything about him, actually, even things that he'd forgotten. wants to know more. like

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I forgot that in Buffy S7, Buffy tells Robin that she sometimes has visions (after the First Slayer sent her one, it sounds like). And, I mean, we all knew that she and every Slayer had prophetic dreams at times, but this made it sound like she could sometimes have prophetic visions while awake, too. And if that doesn't remind me of Cordelia (and Doyle before her, of course, and Angel in the Birthday verse, if we want to get really technical) and Drusilla.

[diathadevil]

You know you're truly Millennial European™ when you have more than one album of DJ Bobo and know at LEAST three songs of his.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

To counterbalance the sadness of that post I reblogged here's some positivity that hit me this evening: like someone said in the notes, I get to decide who I am now, and I get to do what I want and chase my dreams. And that's cool

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.��

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[dollfacefantasy]

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[chuulyssa]

──── ★ DRUGS SUCK IT UP LIKE VANILLA ICYS the recruiter x reader ────

starring the recruiter x detective!reader count 2.3k genre 18+ dark themes, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, gunplay, smut

notes I'LL KEEP EDITING THIS AND ADDING MORE SHIT WHENEVER I GET HORNY !!! make sure to keep tapping in lol notes wanted to write smth non horny but gong yoo just had to deepthroat that gun 🙂‍↔️ wrote this at 2am and i have my practicals tmr

You had no idea when you had lost track of him. One minute, you had been following his step through the bustling train station, and the next, your vision had blurred, and a sharp pain had shot at the base of your skull.

You didn’t know how long it had been since then. You opened your eyes, immediately shutting them back due to the sudden appearance of light to them. The scent of cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and your tongue tasted blood.

You wriggled, trying to move your arms, but your hands had been tied behind your back, ankles tied to the legs of the chair you had been made to sit on. You opened your eyes once more. The room was dim with a single light bulb flickering on and off again and again.

“Detective,” a voice cooed at you from behind you.

You snapped your neck up to see his face smiling gleefully, staring down at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Imagine my surprise,” he continued, moving away to stand in front of you, “when I realized the pretty lady that had been following me all this while,” he leaned against what you could make out to be a wooden table, “was you.”

His smirk was maddening. You remembered it from all those years ago. The handsome man in a suit, way too overdressed to meet you where he had. The man who had approached you when you were hopelessly drunk in a children’s park, crying about an unsolved case. He had wiped your tears back then, kissed your fears away. You still recall his words.

“Since we’re in a children’s park, how about a children’s game?”

Thank god for the polite refusal of yours, or you would’ve been in the same position as your current client. Seong Gihun. For whom you had been trailing this man for weeks now. The Recruiter.

“Hello? Earth to you, miss?” He snapped his fingers in front of your dazed face, making you jump at the sudden sound. He laughed at you. Then, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the floor, he mocked you. “I had such high hopes for you back then, sweetheart. But you said no,” he pouted, then cackled maniacally at your expression. “I got a kiss though!”

“Shut up,” you hissed.

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing throughout the small room. Your eyes darted around to check for windows or exits, but you couldn’t find any in the pale lighting. “Aw, you want me to let you go? After you’ve been my little shadow for the past month?”

You looked away, and he only smirked, walking towards you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it upwards to catch your attention. “You look at me while we’re speaking. Don’t you have manners, love?”

“Don’t call me that,” you scoffed.

“Oh, you don’t want me to call you that? Is that right, love?” He jeered. When you scowled at him, he dropped his smirk. “Oh, come on now. We both know you’re not going anywhere. Come, let’s have a chat, shall we?”

He sat on the floor, his toes lifting him off the ground by themselves. The soles of his shoes clinked, tilting up so that he was mostly leaning onto you.

“It’s so flattering,” he began, “that you spent so much time trying to follow me all this time later. Am I that captivating, Miss Detective?”

“No.”

“Ah, but you are, certainly,” he nuzzled his face into your lap, making you squirm. You tried to close your thighs, but the restraints didn’t allow you to. “I’ve been dreaming of you ever since I saw you that night.”

He hummed, his knees going down to support his stance. He moved his hands to caress the front of your waist softly. “I cried because you were crying. So don’t cry over anything other than me, hm? It makes me so upset.”

He unbuttoned your pants swiftly, and you flinched. He looked up, amused at your reaction. You glared at him, refusing to speak, but the look in your face, the desire in your eyes, even the wetness he could practically smell betrayed you. He tilted his head.

“Still so stubborn,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You jerked your head away, but the restraint made it futile.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re in my world now, detective. And in my world, we play games.”

He pulled out a revolver from under his suit. The metallic click of the very much real weapon cocking made your breath hitch.

Where did he get that from?

He always managed to surprise you.

“Russian roulette,” he announced dramatically, spinning the cylinder. “You know this, yes? A game of chance. Just like life.”

“You’re fucking insane,” you spat, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could feel it quaking in fear. You were scared now.

“Maybe,” he agreed, stepping behind you and pressing the cold barrel of the gun to your temple. “But aren’t you curious, detective? I am. I’m so so curious. You make me feel it. To crave it. Don’t you see it?”

You closed your eyes. The pressure of the gun against your skin seemed unbearable now. It was as if the nuzzle could pierce through your brain with how he was holding it against you.

“I want to see,” he kissed the top of your head, “just how far you’re willing to go to solve this case.”

I’ll do anything, you thought.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg me to stop, but there’ll be consequences then. Or take the risk.”

His voice was a low purr. The gun shifted slightly, trailing down your temple to rest just below your jaw.

“Say the word, and I’ll put it all to an end. No more games. No more questions.” His other hand came up, ghosting over your chest. “But then you’ll have to give me something else in return.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steady your breathing as he groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. The room felt too small, the air too thin.

“What’s it going to be, darling?” he teased, the nickname twisting in your gut like a knife. His fingers found your hardened nipple through the fabric, and his lips your neck.

“I...” you started, but your voice cracked. His soft chuckle rumbled against your pulse, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine.

“No shame in fear,” he said, almost kindly. The gun tilted up, tilting your chin with it, forcing you to meet his dark, hungry gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. “Little Miss Detective, found dead in a basement room. Your parents wouldn’t like to hear that now, would they?”

Your eyes widened. He knew. He knew from the start you had been tailing him. He had kept tabs on you, more than you had on him.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Please.”

“Ah, is that the best you can do?” He cooed at you, and your hands clenched into fists.

“Please let me go,” you said, almost angrily, and he threw his head back to laugh.

“That’s not how you say it, dolly.”

You took a deep breath in, feeling your pride crush and fall down around you in bits and pieces. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He repeated in a child-like voice. “Like what?”

“Anything you like.”

His smile grew. “Will you be willing to play a game with me, then?” His hand reached under your shirt to caress your nipple, and you could feel yourself gushing at the touch.

“What game?”

“Hm, let’s see,” he murmured softly, fingers circling around your nipple. “I’ll count down from ten.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

“And for every second that passes, I’ll take one step closer to you,” he explained, his lips curling into a sly smile. “If you say the safe word, I stop. But…” He picked up the gun, rolling the cylinder lazily before he pointed it to the side and—

BANG !

You shook, trying to cower and hide yourself, but even that was difficult. The aftereffects of the shot echoed in the silence, until it faded away. It made everything seem realer, if that was even possible. He grinned at your reaction. “There will be problems.”

“What problems?”

“That’s for me to decide,” he said simply, leaning forward, the gun still in his hand. “Do you want to play, Miss Detective?”

You hesitated. There was no way out of this room, no way out of his control. And he knew it.

“Good.” He stood, assuming your answer before you even responded. But the gun was still in his hand, and you didn’t dare disobey. He stepped back to the far wall and bumped into a table on the way. Angrily, he kicked the table out of his way, muttering curses all the while. Then his expression softened as he turned to you. “The rules are clear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He began.

“Ten.” The sound of his boots against the floor echoed around.

“Nine.” Another step. His eyes locked onto yours like a predator stalking its prey.

“Eight.” Your hands gripped the edge of the chair.

“Seven.” The gun in his hand wasn’t aimed at you yet, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

“Six.” He was close enough now that you could see the faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Five.” “Wait,” you blurted out.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head. “Wait? That’s not the safe word.” He took another step, closer still. You clenched your jaw, now starting to panic.

He never even gave you a safe word in the first place!

“Four.” He was looming over you now, the barrel of the gun tracing along the edge of the table.

“Three.” “Stop,” you said loudly.

“Two.” The gun was under your chin now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“One.” He smiled, satisfied, as he crouched down to your level, his face mere inches from yours. “You didn’t use the safe word,” he murmured, the gun tracing along your jawline.

“You didn’t give me one!”

“Details,” he rolled his eyes. “But now, as per the rules, of course…” He kneeled down in front of you again, head tilting down. His hands went up to grip both sides of your waist.

“Wait—”

“Shut up.”

For a moment or two, you didn’t feel anything. That was until his tongue licked a striped against your clothed cunt.

“Ack!” You jumped, trying to push him off you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Like that?” He nuzzled his face into the wetness, making you shiver. “I haven’t even started yet, baby,” he mumbled. Then, he sank his teeth into your clothed thigh.

You let out a loud cry, hoping that someone — anyone — would hear you. But no one did. No one came.

“Quiet now, dolly.” His teeth chewed at your waistband for a few seconds before pulling it down completely. “Up,” he tapped your waist, and you obediently raised your hips. He pried your pants off you.

“Oh,” he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw that your panties were still covering you. “We’ve got to take this off, hm?” He cooed at you again. “Come on, taking it off for me now.”

“What?”

“I said, take it off.”

“How?” You were taken aback.

“Wiggle wiggle,” he smiled like a dork. Then he sat up and kissed your ear. “I’ll help you with the top till then.”

He helped lift your top over your head directly. Once it was off, his lips immediately latched back onto your cheek. “Panties off, please. Before I rip them apart.”

You nodded and fidgeted for a while, lifting your hips up and down and trying to get the fabric off you. But it wouldn’t budge at all.

“Pathetic,” he said, though he looked at you fondly, as if mocking your vulnerability. Tugging a finger under the waistband of your panties, he peeled the soaked cloth away from your skin easily, patting your waist so you’d lift them up to get it off completely. 

You were exposed to him. Naked from top to bottom except for the bra he somehow hadn’t removed yet. You felt the sudden chill of air against your bare pussy. Your nipples pebbled further. He tossed the underwear aside.

His hands slid along your thighs, spreading them wider. “Beautiful.” His fingers tightened. A hand snaked between your legs, cupping the flesh of your thighs easily. “So wet. Already? You should be ashamed.”

You flushed lightly, trying to come up with a retort. But he shut you up immediately. His middle finger had found its way inside you.

“Fuck—” you groaned, and he snickered.

He wiggled his finger within you, grinding it against your inner walls, pressing firmly on that sweet spot while watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

Your body bucked as he added another finger, stretching you wide open. Then another. And another.

He pulled back suddenly, and you whined.

“Why—?”

“No,” he whispered, standing up. His large frame towered over yours, his hands reaching behind your neck to unclasp your bra. “Such nice tits, dolly.” He squeezed them in his rough palms as if grateful to God for his creations. His thumb brushed across your hardening nipple, teasing the peak into a tighter bud, if that was even possible.

Then he lowered his head, capturing one between his lips and suckling deeply. His tongue flicked expertly at your hardened nipple, nipping lightly.

You could see stars.

Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Ni—

He moved onto the other one and did the same.

Fuck was he good at his job.

He left trails of kisses on your chest. Both of them were red and swollen now, and you were left cursing his name in your mind.

“I’ve been playing nice all this while, don’t you think? Let’s make it rougher.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Sylus

Is it still kidnapping if you’re in love with him? Yes. It is. Welcome to the N109 Zone get comfortable baby pt. 1 here

Self-Aware!Sylus who can call anywhere home, but is becoming less and less interested in the N109 zone because you’re not there “Well you can’t come here” “Why not?” “You’re not real Sylus how would you come here?” he turns tapping his chin as if he's actually trying to figure out a way to access your world “You could come here”

Sylus wouldn’t out right say it, but he was desperate to have you in his arms it just never seemed possible. There was nothing either of you could do so you settled for a love that would end tragically because you just couldn’t let him go. You found yourself daydreaming constantly about spending your days with him. What it would be like to hold his hand instead of your phone. To caress his cheek and feel his warmth in the palm of your hand. You gave yourself butterflies just imagining him melting into your touch.

Just him.

“You’re spacing out Princess” You slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. You glanced down at the celery you were mindlessly chopping. “Shit I didn’t mean to dice it” You huffed and scraped it onto the pan anyway; there was no way you were going back to the store right now. You looked back at Sylus who was casually sitting on his couch watching a musical. Sometimes it really made you feel crazy seeing him like this. Not the in-game repeated movements that he was programmed to do, but fluid movement and everyday life activities. It really felt like you were talking to a person and not just code in a game. “What are you watching?”

Sylus hummed off key as he answered “Heathers” You giggled at the fact that the big bad Onychinus leader watches musicals in his living room during his free time. “You should join me” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and smiled to himself like there was some inside joke you didn’t catch. “Only in our dreams” You smiled at him, but it was somber the reality of your relationship always made you a little sad yet here you were doing nothing to end it. You turned back to stir the vegetables you had sautéing because the last thing you need is for them to overcook.

That's when you heard the clearest voice in your ear “Just dreams?” You spun around rapidly flinging food in the process. Your heart pounded against your chest as you scanned the empty kitchen looking for any other sign of life. You immediately swapped out the spoon for the knife you had just minutes earlier. “Sylus please tell me you heard that”

Silence.

You glanced at your phone and saw that the screen was off. “Is there a fucking demon in my house right now?” You snatched your phone ready to call a friend to come over, but your efforts were thwarted when a band of silky red and black mist wrapped around your wrist wrenching you backwards. “I’ve been called worse”

You breath hitched causing you to choke on your own spit as you came face to face with Sylus. Are you going crazy? You struggled against his evol that felt like what you could only describe as smoke with density. “I must be hallucinating” You’ve imagined having this man in front of you for months, but you had no idea he would be this terrifying in person. It felt like you were standing before a hungry wolf that wouldn’t second guess snapping your neck. Why was his demeanor so damn scary? Before you could even process what was happening Sylus grabbed you buy the waist and pulled you close to him. “I’m sorry Princess but this is probably going to hurt”

“Wha-” Pain seared through you in an instant like lightning and fire at once. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as it felt like your vocal cords were singed to a crisp. The pain was unbearable it changed from searing to pins and needles almost like little pieces of you were splitting apart. You couldn’t handle it and your vision went dark as you passed out.

You came too slowly, groaning as you stretched your limbs on a stiff mattress. You sat up slowly realizing you were fine. Rolling your shoulders and rubbing your legs you were sure whatever that was must have just been a terrible dream. Maybe? “I knew I was dreaming” you couldn’t explain the amount of pain you felt though. You turned and noticed instead of your usual view of your room you were looking out amongst a vast dark city. “Where-”

“What do you think?” a voice said in your ear causing your fight or flight to kick in. You pulled your legs under yourself and swung your fist as hard as you could in the direction of the voice. The person groaned at the contact and you reached for the nearest object you could find which was a lamp and swung it, but your wrist was caught mid air and you were disarmed with ease. Within seconds you were pinned down on the mattress.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realized who was holding you down “Sylus?” He was just as intimidating as he was in your dream. Or was it a dream? “You’re not dreaming” Sylus squeezed your wrist tightly “Ow stop stop it hurts” he raised an eyebrow as his lip quirked up “See?” You rolled your eyes he was way too amused with your reaction for your liking. “We need to work on that right hook of yours it's a little weak” He can’t be serious right now you just punched him in his jaw and tried to beat him over the head with a lamp and the first thing he thinks of is training your punches to get better? Typical.

Sylus couldn’t help but, chuckle at your expression with your brows furrowed and your lips curled in frustration. “I wish you could see yourself right now” You pushed his face away with your free hand irritated with him for causing you that much pain.

“I wish you would get a new mattress why is this bitch so stiff my fucking back hurts” You squirmed underneath him. He inhaled a sharp breath making you freeze realizing the position you were in; he was nestled perfectly between your legs with one hand pinned above your head. Suddenly there was a knock at the door “Boss we heard some commotion are you okay?” Sylus rolled his eyes “I’m fine. Leave.”

“Yes boss” The sound of footsteps retreated until there was silence again. Sylus looked down at you furrowing his brows, this time is was your turn to smirk. “Don’t say it” He warned. Your lips quivered as you tried to stop your smile from forming “Are those my boys?” Sylus gave you a bored look before rolling his eyes at you as well. “Do you know how hard it was to bring you here Princess? You’re more excited for Luke and Kieran than me” Sylus expression seemed irritated, but the look in his eyes was pouty. You had Sylus jealous of his own men now that was an ego boost. You squirmed in his hold again trying to free yourself. “This is a lot for me Sylus you have some explaining to do" You kicked your legs like a toddler trying to sit up once again "And let me get up your mattress is not comfortable!”

Sylus huffed at your commands, but of course he listened getting up and pulling you with him. He had you straddle his lap with his hands gently placed on your waist. “Is this more comfortable?” He leaned back against the headboard his eyes traveling up and down your body. Based on the look in his eyes it was almost as if even he couldn’t believe you were not only in front of him, but on top of him at the moment.

“No! w-well y-yea but-” You cut yourself off to save face. This man really had you stuttering like porky the pig. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you could. “How the actual fuck am I here right now Sylus”

“Energy manipulation is stronger than you think” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“If you turn something into pure energy it can travel wherever you want it to even into as you call it a game world” His words bounced around in your head as you tried to make sense of them. What does he mean energy can travel anywhere. Then it hit you. The searing pain, pins and needles, the black out. “You turned me into pure energy to bring me here?!” You screamed in his face.

“Something like that” He replied in a bored tone “The shopkeeper said it should only hurt the first time” You rubbed your temples just trying to stay calm, how were you supposed to be okay with the fact that you were seemingly ripped apart and put back together inside of a damn game. You felt Sylus shifting underneath you and his hands running up your sides. “Tell me” he tilted your chin down so he could look you in the eye. “Are you not happy to have me like this?” he wrapped his arms around your waist while he rested his chin on your chest. “I can hear your heart beating fast”

“Of course I'm happy to see you” You cradled his face in your hands and he immediately melted into your touch. It was even better than you imagined it would be. His eyes closed and you could feel the satisfying hum that rumbled in his chest. You stared in awe at the sight before you; he was really melting because of you. He opened his eyes and dropped his gaze to your lips causing them to part “Prove it.”

You didn’t need to be a genius to know he wanted a kiss. You two spend many nights talking about it. He made you promise that if you ever actually met him the first thing you would do is kiss him. That promise was clearly broken since the first thing you did was punch him in the face. His lips looked so soft and full you didn’t hesitate to lean in and Sylus met you half way. It lasted no longer than three seconds before you pulled away. “What's wrong?" You shook your head and looked away “Nothing you’re just making me nervous”

You had no time to prepare yourself as Sylus slammed you back on your back and pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Your eyes bugged out of your head before slightly rolling back as you gave into him. He nipped at your bottom lip and shoved his tongue in when you opened up for him. You thought he would be more rough, but he was actually so gentle. He kissed you like he was trying to perfectly mold your mouth to only fit his. No more like it was already made to fit only him. You wrapped you arms around his neck and snaked one hand up the back of his head tugging the hair at the nape. He smiled against your lips “Do that again” he whispered, hooking your leg over his hip. You tugged even harder this time relishing in the satisfied groan he let out.

You could do this for hours, but you had too many questions. You pulled his head away trying to catch your breath. “We’re not done talking Sylus” He sucked his teeth and sighed heavily as he sat up. This time he didn’t pull you onto his lap he helped you sit up and fixed your shirt that was riding up from him almost removing it. “Ask your questions” He leaned back against the headboard with his arms crossed. You couldn’t help, but giggle at the slight pout he was failing to hide. "For starters where can we buy a softer mattress?"

[okwonyo]

⠀ LOVE BETWEEN ⠀⟡​ ⠀HUSBAND!JAKE

ii 𓈒 ❛❛⠀엔하이픈, ─────⠀제이크ㅤ ⠀❜❜ 5OO fluff non-idol au & skinship crying ࿁ ⠀ fem!rea.

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i saw this in a vision 💌

reblogs (≧ᗜ≦) &feedbacks ╱ click

husband!jake who has always dreamt of finding his person at a young age, of marrying as soon as he could and spending the rest of his life with his lover.

husband!jake who never dates anyone because he knew he would date to marry.

husband!jake who knew exactly it was you, when his gaze landed on you.

husband!jake who asked you out on a spring day. who proposed to you on the same day two years later.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

husband!jake who did everything in his power to make the day he says ‘yes’ to you be on the same day a year later.

husband!jake who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle in your beautiful dress.

husband!jake who, with a shaky voice and tears streaming down his face, vowed to forever cherish and take care of you. to be yours forever, no matter what happens.

husband!jake who likes to run his left hand over his torso to feel his ring roll around his finger.

husband!jake who likes to, whenever you are together, to play with your wedding ring as you talk to him— or anyone.

husband!jake who reminds you that you weren’t the ‘marrying type either’ when you refuse to do something with him. such as having ketchup and mustard matching halloween costumes.

husband!jake who already called you his wife way before he proposed to you. now that it is real, he can’t stop talking about ‘my—beautiful, gorgeous, amazing—wife’.

husband!jake who never misses any anniversary because that day is the one that matters the most to him.

husband!jake who, when a bit tipsy, keeps asking you if the guy that is married to you knows how to fight.

husband!jake who puts his left hand up, showing of his wedding ring proudly whenever someone asks him how he is doing.

“i’ll be the happiest as long as i wear this ring,” husband!jake assures with a grin.

husband!jake who was already very clingy before and that got ten times worse since the wedding day.

husband!jake who uses the excuse ‘we are married!’ to justify his—and yours—constant display of affection.

husband!jake who needs your presence for everything. even if it’s just to do his own thing. and you need him everywhere with you as well.

husband!jake who is very good with kids. which makes your heart feel warm everytime you see how he acts with them.

husband!jake who loves lazy mornings and pillow talks until dawn.

husband!jake who keeps your picture in his wallet and set a selfie of yours as his wallpaper just to stare at it whenever he misses you.

husband!jake who, one day, decided to set pictures of your wedding all over your house's hallway. but, only pictures of the bride and only one with the groom.

husband!jake who looks at these pictures from time to time as if he was in a museum. with his chin between his index finger and thumb and all.

husband!jake who watches your wedding day’s videos on the television at one in the morning when he can’t sleep and misses you, as always when you are asleep.

husband!jake who works hard to give you the life you deserve and to spoil you as much as he can.

husband!jake who dreamed about having a wife like you his entire life and still can’t believe you are his.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[lymtw]

Fresh Relationship

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji in a fresh relationship with you, where he notices how uncomfortable and anxious you are when you're alone with him. You can't hold his gaze without giggling nervously and blushing like crazy, and you can't stand when you can feel him watching you. It doesn't bother him. He usually meets your little giggle fits with a "what're you giggling about now? Huh?" a smirk on his face as he watches you try to compose yourself.

You noticed through your peripheral vision that Toji is looking at you. Your heart starts beating faster and faster, but you try to focus on the movie, anyway. Toji knows you caught on to him watching you, though. He saw your quick little side eye towards him before going back to the movie.

"Loosen up," his deep voice interrupts your "focused" bearing. "Why're you so nervous?" His hand settles on your knee, his thumb slowly stroking the area. It was meant to soothe your nerves, but really it just made your stomach errupt with butterflies.

"I'm okay," you say, your mouth incredibly dry. You turn your head as he scoots closer to you on the couch. "'M I okay to sit here?" He asks, watching the way you pull your hand away from between you and him, into your lap. His hand returns on you, this time on your thigh.

"You're shaking," he points out with a knowing smile on his face.

You have to think for a second before responding. Your ears were buzzing, your heart would not settle, you were truly in a daze whenever Toji was around.

"Just a little cold," you lie. "I'm fine, though." You return the soft smile, turning your focus back to the movie.

"Then, come here. What are you sitting so far from me for?" He puts an arm over your shoulders, pulling you tight against him.

Your body goes rigid in his hold. He's like a furnace, and the heat emmanating from his body was enough to make you feel like you were overheating. His scent was wet dream fuel—intoxicating and addicting. It was strong enough for you to start manifesting his appearance in your dreams, with the most lewd and unholy intentions.

His fingers stroked your arm, eliciting goosebumps on your forearms and your thighs. He can tell your attention isn't on the movie anymore. Your leg is bouncing, your knee occasionally knocking against his.

"What are you so nervous about, sweetheart? C'mon, talk to me." You can hear the amusement in Toji's tone. He pauses the movie, demanding your attention, but you don't even know where to start. There are so many things and yet you can't get a single one of them out.

"You don't like hanging out alone with me?"

"I do," you answer, instantly, trying to avoid hurting his feelings. You clasp your hands together in an attempt to relax.

"Then what's the problem, pretty?" He watches as you sit quietly, looking down at your lap. "Look at me." Your eyes slowly meet his, the eye contact giving you the illusion of being swallowed whole. "What is it?"

Your hands unclasp and your fingers start fidgeting with one another. "You're very attractive..." you mumble, basically inaudible to Toji.

"One more time for me, doll," he says, asking you to repeat yourself. He leans in to listen closely.

"You're... very attractive," you hesitantly repeat, this time with enough volume for Toji to hear you.

He's trying so hard not to laugh at how embarrassed you look at your admission, but it's not possible when you look so ashamed for saying it out loud.

"You're attracted to me, so you shrink?" He asks, the wide smile left behind from his laughter not diminishing.

You nod, your hands coming up to your face to cool down your burning cheeks. Toji finds the glossiness in your eyes adorable.

"So, I'm the one scaring you?"

"No...? I don't know..." You look away from Toji.

"You don't know." Toji chuckles. He knows it's him, but he won't let up because he's having a damn good time making you coil in on yourself. "Let me tell you something, doll face." He turns his whole body towards you, his leg bent on the couch. The movement causes you to lean back, adding space between you and him. His eyes flit between your eyes and your lips. "You are stunning. There's way too much to appreciate on that little mug of yours." He grins at the blush on your cheeks. "There's no need to be so shy around me. I'm not gonna eat you." He leans in again, taking up the whole space you made between you and him. "At least not yet."

Your heart dropped to your guts. You weren't sure you'd make it through the night without having a heart attack.

"You wanna kiss me, don't you?" His eyes center on yours, and you giggle, a valid response to his question. He smirks knowing the meaning behind your reaction. "I have eyes, babe. There's really no use denying it."

The closer he moves towards you, the more you feel like screaming. You know a good scream would relieve a whole lot of tension for you, but what would that look like to Toji?

"I-I do..."

"Come closer, then. Why are you leaning away?" He lets out a deep chuckle. "I'll lead if you want."

"Fine," you surrender.

Toji sighs, contentedly. "Just don't move. I'm serious, pretty girl. You move, and i'll bring the cuffs out."

You crack a grin, one that evolves into a laugh after a few seconds.

"Kidding, ma. Just wanted to make you laugh." He grins.

You don't even notice how close he's sitting until you stop laughing. You stare at each other in silence, his eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips again.

"Just relax and-"

You lean in this time, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. It's like a zap of electricity to your entire body when you feel his lips against yours. They're warm, and surprisingly soft. He doesn't shove his tongue into your mouth, which you're grateful for. That's for later on. You just couldn't wait any longer. Waiting was making you even more anxious, so you dived into the moment.

"Oh, sweetheart," he almost groans. "You'll drive me insane if you keep up the shy girl act," he mutters against your lips. "I know you want me like I want you, so quit making me beg." He moved closer towards you, knowing you'd back away, eventually meeting a dead end with your back against the couch armrest. Your eyes told him everything he needed to know. You were lusting over him and you wanted him to get you.

You looked up at him with starry eyes, your cunt throbbing at the way he watched you closely. You watched as he quickly invaded your personal space, his body wedged between your legs, making them spread wider to accomodate his size difference.

"What are you so scared of? Don't you want me?" His hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His knuckles grazed your lower abdomen a couple times, making your heart race.

"I-I do, Toji." Your focus went to his crotch rubbing up against you as he leaned in.

"Yeah, you do?" He purred beneath your ear, allowing his lips to meet the sensitive skin of your neck after.

"Fuck," you whimper. "I do."

"You wet for me?" He asks, moving his lower body enough to make you believe he's just balancing himself, but still giving you the friction that's making you lose your composure.

"Mhm," you hum, breathing erratically as he kisses up the column of your neck, towards your chin.

"Can I check?" He murmurs, nipping at your jawline. You shut your eyes, your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as another blissed out "mhm" leaves you.

His hand slides down your waist, moving towards the center of your stomach where he continues sliding down until his fingers go under your pants' waistband. He feels the elastic band of your underwear, his fingers maneuvering beneath it as well. You gasp when you feel his fingers dip lower until he's tracing your slippery folds. His dick twitches at the amount of arousal drooling out of you.

"You're bad, mama." He sighs, listening to your little breaths as he teases you. How long had you been turned on to be this wet? "Were you gonna keep this from me had I not been so persistent?" His middle and index fingers glide up and down your slit.

You let out a moan when he started rubbing your clit, his rough pads giving you more friction than anything you've ever felt.

"Answer me." His dark, green eyes bore into your closed ones. "Were you gonna get yourself off once I left?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, Toji," you cried out, writhing beneath him. "Didn't wanna tell you. It's embarrassing," you whine.

He chuckles. "That why you were on edge earlier? 'Cause you were on the edge of cumming, untouched?"

You nod, rolling your eyes open to meet his gaze. Your lust-filled gaze made chills run up his spine, the sight borderline sinful. He cups your jaw with his free hand, his grip tight as he stares into your constellation eyes. "Look at me like that again and i'll fuck you 'til you can't see straight. You hear me?" He was fighting the urge to bust his load into his jeans. It was already hard enough having to watch you as you fell apart on his fingers, but now you were giving him "fuck me" eyes, and it got ten times harder.

His threat only brought your orgasm closer. He had never spoken to you that way before. It had your stomach filling to the brim with butterflies, but you responded with a moaned "uh-huh", anyway.

"T-Toji, I'm gonna cum. More, please," you whimpered.

"Aren't you a sensitive little thing? Didn't even have to finger you to make you cum."

"Oh, fuck-" you cry out, cut off by Toji's hand.

"Shh... I know, I know, sweet girl," he coos, his fingers teasing you down at your entrance. "Gonna cum? Make a pretty mess on my fingers, hm?" He mumbles, his lips returning to your neck.

You hum, sultrily. Your arms are stretched above your head, your nails digging into the armrest of the couch. You arch your back off the cushions, loud gasps released into the air when Toji releases his hold on your mouth. You slowly roll your hips into Toji's hand, chasing the friction against your cunt.

"Fuck, baby. You feeling yourself?" His cock is throbbing at the sight of you looking so careless. Your face is aimed up, your lips parted as you release all the sounds of pleasure that you're capable of. His fingers go back up to your clit, the pad of his middle finger rubbing rapidly at the nub. It was driving you insane, how close you were to cumming on his fingers. Your stomach caved with every breath you inhaled and your whole body trembled as you treaded over the edge of your devastingly powerful orgasm.

Toji watched as you writhed beneath him, his lidded eyes taking in your contorted features as you cried out in overwhelming pleasure. He leaned in to kiss up your neck again, really just wanting to be closer to the source of the sounds filling the room. "So fuckin' pretty," he trilled into your jaw. Your soft little grunts reached his ears, turning to whines as you tried to wriggle away from the stimulation. He didn't miss the way your thighs clamped around his torso, signaling that his touch was getting to be too much. "Alright, alright. Had enough?"

You nod, a huff leaving you as he slowly takes his hand out of your underwear.

You sigh after catching your breath, feeling enlightened and satisfied. You giggle when you see Toji's staring at you. "What?"

"It's gonna be my mouth next time." His hands are on your hips, massaging deep circles into the material of your pants. "M gonna taste you on my tongue, and I want all that wetness on my lips and your cum all over my face, instead of my fingers."

"You're so vulgar, Toji," you say, with a smile on your face. You're unaware of how big the hearts in your eyes are when you look at this man.

He sighs as he lays down on you, his body weighing you down. He looks up at you, his chin resting on your chest. "How can you expect any different when you look like hell's favorite sinner when you cum?" He exhales through his nose, thinking of the look on your face as unraveled beneath him. It's now engraved in his mind. His dick could become a huge problem if he thinks about it for too long. "For real, doll, I wanna see that again but with my face between your legs."

You giggle to yourself, wishing the comment didn't have you blushing like you were. Your whole body was heating up.

"You're not gonna run when I get close to you next time, right? Gonna be a good girl for me?" He smirks at the twitch of your thighs around him.

"No, i'll be good. I promise."

"That's right, baby. I'll be looking forward to it," he says before burying his face into your breasts.