#i see you doing something with your mouth in that second gif because i have laser trash vision

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

part 1

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something. 

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face. 

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you. 

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes. 

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful. 

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. 

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”. 

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his. 

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before. 

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache. 

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left. 

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill. 

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close. 

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together. 

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

[sirxlla]

The Few And Far Between

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

Warnings: Brief mentions of the reader being a lab rat. Other than that? Fluff.

Prompt: Damian doesn't let many in so why are you the exception?

Notes: Gender neutral reader, italics are actions/thoughts. i'm a new writer, so i'm trying to do what might be good layout? pls Imk what you think of the story or anything really in the comments, i'd really appreciate it

-With all that said it's under the cut-

Damian was never a forthcoming person and he was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve because he knew if he did it would be used against him. His mother and grandfather along with his childhood had made him build his walls so incredibly high that the idea of anyone scaling them scared him and surprised him at the same time. It secretly excited him but it scared the living shit out of him.

"How could this person come into my life and so easily get through to me in ways that I would never let anyone else see me?" A question he asked himself over and over within the confines of his own mind over the past couple months.

There was something in the sight of you that caused Damian's walls crumbled down like they were but a sheet of cheap printer paper. The nights have been rough for him, they always had, it's just something he never shared. Damian didnt want anyone poking around in his mind and he didnt wanna admit he had PTSD from his childhood and how quickly he had to grow up.

The nights were rough for both you and Damian. About 8 months ago Damian and Bruce had found you in Simon Stagg's lab in a cage like some sort of long term lab rat. Bruce had read the file infront of your cage whilst Damian unlocked the box that held you before swiftly and gently picking you up. So fragile from the way Stagg had been treating you there were clear signs of dehydration and malnourishment. You clung to Damian like a child clings to their favorite teddy bear the moment you he picked you up. In that momemnt something in him just completely shattered but when it came to you, It was his need for pushing people away. After that it was incredibly hard for him to even remotely began to think of putting up walls when it came to you.

The nightmares and memories of the place were horrible. you found yourself climbing into his bed. Your body just craving some sort of comfort and wanting to feel like you weren't alone even if the two of you didn't talk about the terrors that filled your sleep. If it were anyone else crawling into his bed there would have been no way in hell in any sort of way he'd even allow it. If he were even to think to say no to you, his mouth would betray him and the only thing that would have escaped his lips would have been a soft yes.

His nightmares had stopped when he slept next to you, or at least for the most part. Of course no one knew he had nightmares because he kept every bit of 'weakness' locked up tight. Damian never wanted to show any sign of fragility to anyone but tonight was different. The memories that clawed their way into his sleep were bad, an obvious understatement. Now he found himself waking in a start covered in a cold sweat you waking up beside him as he sat up.

Worry filled your eyes as they shone in the dim moonlight that filled the room through the crack of the curtains. He almost jumped as you wrapped your arms around him from behind as if it was your second nature to do so. There was such an kindess and understanding he found in you that allowed him to be vulnerable; This is something he never felt secure enough to do with anyone since he was a very small child. So his shoulders fell, the tension slipping from him like sand. Damian found himself wrapping his arms around yours as tears filled his eyes.

Before he knew it tears were pouring down his face as his body sank into you like a person in a being sucked into a beanbag chair, his body and mind seeking solace in your arms.

Noticing Damian's demeanor shifting and how he clearly needed someone, you slowly pulled him down to the bed and hugged him gently but securely. You knew the chance that he would talk about any of it would be rare but it didnt stop the pang in your chest and the need you felt to take care of him the way he had done for you on nights like this.

Your right hand moved into his soft silky hair before your left rubbed his back. His head rested between your collar bone and neck, the dampness of his tears made his skin stick to yours as he held onto you for dear life.

Damian had never let anyone in like this, not ever. Not even when he was dating Raven and she had a direct line to his memories but even so he kept his walls tall and thick like a castle. But now? Now here he was sobbing into the arms of a person he's known not years or decades but months in his mind it feels wrong but in his heart all they're doing is everything he's ever needed which is gentle comforting and a silent understanding. His eyelids feeling heavy as he sinks back into a deep comforting sleep in your arms, the gentle smell of your shampoo reminding him even as he sleeps that he was in safe arms.

Masterlist

[morningsharksworld]

Imagine Hazard being slightly jealous that Reader, who he's been flirting with for a while. Was ogling someone who was flexing and decided to flex real quick to get their attention back.

(I need to see this man flex look at hiimmm)

Show Off

A/N: Thank you anon for making me go insane in the middle of this and still manage to write him a bit flustered because I couldn’t help myself, I hope you enjoy this one as much as I did :’]

Summary: a battle of peacocks what more is there to say?

The tavern buzzed with its usual noise: off-key singing from the corner, the clinking of mugs, and hearty laughter. You were perched at the bar beside Hazard, who had been in his usual form—leaning lazily on the counter, tossing out his sharp wit and charm as if it were currency.

It was easy to fall into his rhythm, though tonight your attention had slipped. Across the room, someone had started flexing, their biceps bulging as they posed for a small, admiring crowd. It wasn’t often you saw such blatant peacocking, and the display had caught your eye for a moment too long.

Hazard noticed. Of course, he did.

His golden eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a thick mutter. “Ach, really now? That’s what’s got yer attention? Some overgrown lump flexin’ like he’s auditionin’ for a bloody statue garden?”

You blinked and turned to him, caught off guard by the irritation in his tone. “What?”

He gave you a look, tilting his head toward the flexing stranger. “Cannae believe it. I’ve been sittin’ here spinnin’ gold fer ye, an’ yer too busy starin’ at that. Ye’d think I was invisible.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. “Wait—are you jealous?”

The word hit him like a thunderbolt. His smug grin faltered, his cheeks flushing a faint but unmistakable red. He straightened up immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jealous? Me? Dinnae be ridiculous sweetheart.”

“Oh, you’re jealous” you teased, leaning closer to him with a sly grin. “You saw me looking at someone else, and now you’re sulking.”

“I am no’sulking!” he shot back, though the red creeping up to the tips of his ears betrayed him. He turned his head away, muttering something about “daft ideas” under his breath.

“Hazard” you said sweetly, drawing his attention back. “If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask.”

He stared at you, his mouth opening as if to fire back a retort—but no words came. Instead, he blinked, his flustered expression only deepening. “I don’t—ye cannae just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yer impossible, ye ken that?”

“And yet here you are, proving my point more” you teased, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.

Hazard scowled, though there was no real heat behind it. “Fine, then” he said, his voice tinged with stubborn pride. “If ye think yon flexin’ fool’s impressive, I’ll remind ye why ye should keep yer eyes right where they belong.”

“Oh, this should be good” you replied, unable to suppress your grin.

He stood up, rolling his shoulders with exaggerated nonchalance as he shed his jacket, letting it fall onto the back of the chair. His shirt clung just right, emphasizing the lean strength of his frame as he stretched. When he reached up to run a hand through his hair, his muscles flexed just a little more than necessary.

“Ach, been a while since I’ve had tae bother showin’ off” he drawled, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Still reckon I’ve got more tae offer than yon poser.”

“Hazard” you said, barely holding back laughter. “Are you seriously flexing to prove a point?”

He froze for a fraction of a second, then turned to you with his trademark grin, though the flush on his face hadn’t faded. “What? Dinnae act like ye’re no’ impressed, lass. I’ve seen the way yer eyes wander when I stretch.”

You arched an eyebrow, lips twitching. “So you have been paying attention, huh? Almost like you were… jealous?”

His bravado cracked for just a moment, his golden eyes flicking away as he mumbled, “I wasnae jealous. Just—ye know—remindin’ ye where yer loyalty should lie.”

“Hazard” you said softly, leaning in close enough that your voice dropped to a near whisper. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

That did it. His entire face went red as he took a half-step back, coughing into his fist to mask his embarrassment. “Aye, well… don’t get used tae it” he muttered, glaring at the floor.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound finally breaking the tension. “Alright, alright” you said, resting a hand on his arm. “I’ll stop teasing… for now.”

“Good” he replied gruffly, though he refused to meet your eyes.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the noise of the tavern filling the space. Then Hazard glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his grin slowly returning. “Adorable, am I? Sweetheart, ye’ve got no idea what ye’re in for.”

“Oh?” you replied, your own smile widening. “Care to prove it?”

His golden eyes gleamed as he stood straighter, his confidence slipping back into place like a second skin. “Aye” he said, offering you his hand. “Let’s take this outside. Ye’ll nae be lookin’ at anyone else after this.”

And just like that, Hazard was back in control—at least, as much as you were willing to let him be.

[icarusredwings]

Camping

pt 1

pt 2

A heart warming 1000th follower special!!

Logan takes the X kits camping. Simple right?

Wrong.

Children in this school are expected to be top of their class... If they aren't.. They at least need to be able to take care of themselves and use their powers decently well. For good of course.

Now you may be thinking 'Or what?'

Well- Or else you have to go with Wolverine for a survival training exercise. Aka- Summer Camp.

"Are we almost there? I'm tired." The lion boy groaned, his pack the heaviest amongst the children due to his natural strength and the fact he greatly overpacked.

"You're always tired, Leo.." Owen mutters, rolling his eyes. "But he's right. I'm starving."

This- of course, was Wade's cue.

"Hi starving! Hi tired! I'm dad!" He smiles widely as he treks behind his husband in khaki shorts and a button up shirt with a few random badges in it, his pack quite large due to his ability to carry the most in this little team of theirs.

There were a total of 12 children this time around, most being Xkits or... well.. Kids that Logan have decided to adopt under his own metaphorical wings. Unlike Warren who has legally adopted Issac under his literal wings. His mother being none other than Laura herself. Clone business and all that.

“This is stupid..” The 11 year old grumbles, wings dyed black tucked in as he holds his pack on the side. Why he chose to wear skinny jeans in the middle of the woods? Well that would be the stubbornness of his grandfather in him.

“Maybe you should have participated in Gym and you wouldn't be missing a credit.” Logan tells the taloned boy, who grumbles under his breath how unfair it is to be related to your teacher because he targets you. “You're not even my real grandfather...” He'd grumble.

“Ooh but technically he is, chickadee. See you're a clone of Laura and Laura is his daughter, which makes you..” Wade whispers to him with a big smirk.

“Gabrielle is a clone of Laura too and she's her sister. Not her daughter. So why do I have to be her son?”

Wade laughs. “Ha! What? You wanna be big guys son? That's even worse, trust me. Besides! You got different Dna then Laura cause your daddy is fancy pants rich mcgee-” He pokes, only for his hand to be slapped away. Holding a hand up to his mouth, Wade whispers. “Between you and me, He likes being a grandpa. Don't let him lie.”

“Shut up! You're scaring the wild life with your big mouth.” He growls through grit teeth.

“Ooh.. Touchy subject..”

Let's just say that Logan was getting real tired of people using his Dna to splice together more mutant children. Especially if they were just going to be raised as weapons..

There had been twelve kids on this trip, each chaperone had 3 kids to look after, well..Four each if you counted Logan and Wade as a pair, seeing as Wade was technically a risk and the only reason he was allowed was because Logan was here. There wasn't exactly a hospital out in the woods, so if he got sick or someone who couldn't regenerate got stabbed- there would be a serious issue.

Each teacher was responsible for an equal number of children, meant to coach them and encourage them to use their powers when out in these deep Canadian woods. They could have gone to the woods in the US But Logan refused unless it was these woods in particular. Those were his requirements. He got Wade, and he got to go to Canada.

Between them, There was Logan, The leader of this group (for obvious reasons), Wade (his cheerful husband), Morph (The current mentor of Ivo), and Father Wagner (Second in command for obvious reasons)

The girl behind them groaned loudly. "You're not our dad, though." She mumbled, replying to Wade's dad joke, having been volunteered by her mother to go on this trip. Something about "connecting more with your roots," she said. She, the daughter of Forge's cousin, would much rather have been in the shop, good with electric tools rather than starting fires, chopping wood, or walking long distances.

Harley, a rabbit girl with far too much sass for someone her age, scrunches her nose. “Ick! It smells like a wet dog here!” She says.

“Gabby! Get out of that puddle!” Logan scolds her, watching as she played in the mud. Taking her fingers she smirks, wiping it on her cheeks like war paint. “Why!? I thought the whole point of being in the woods is to be dirty?” She gets up, shaking off with a big smile, splating mud onto some of the other students.

Harley whines. “Mr. Sydney, Gabby got my dress dirty!”

Owen shifts into Harley for just a moment. “Mr. Sydney, I chose to wear an expensive skirt on a camping trip in the middle of summer!”

“Oi! I don't sound like that!” She starts, balling her fists and glared.

“Hey- hey. Children. That is enough, Ja? Do you really vish to mock your team mate?”

“Yes.” Leo mutters.

The girl growls at the lion, who makes an ‘eep' noise and runs behind the blue tailed man.

“Owen has a point, though, Harley. Mr. Howlett told you that you might get dirty.”

“Uh-yeah. Key word. Might.”

Morph rolls their eyes, groaning. “You sound like Issac right now.”

“I do not!”

“She does not!!”

“He's gross! And icky and mean!”

“She's so prissy and spoiled!”

Wade and Morph glance at each other, smirking before laughing. Yeaahh.. these two were definitely gonna get caught holding hands at lunch in the future. When you've been around kids this much, it's just something you know.

Logan and Kurt look at each other with that ‘Sigh. Kids.’ Kind of look before Kurt flicks his tail. “Okay okay! Who wants to hear a story?”

“Is it a church story?” Cherri asks.

“If it's a church story I'm gonna fall asleep.” Leo mumbles, already yawning.

“Well… I suppose not then. Erm. Wade- NO”

Wade shrugs, leaning on Morph's shoulder. “Good choice really.”

Morph nods, agreeing that Wade's stories were far too mature for this group of 9-14 year olds.

Kurt smiles awkwardly “Mr. Sydney?”

Immediately, the shit eating grin that comes onto their face makes him shake his head. “Nien. Logan?”

He doesn't answer. Their leader is sniffing the air, looking ahead as if he smelt something that perhaps would put them in danger.

“Whatcha sniffin’dad?!” Gabs asked, coming up front to sniff too, their noses twitching.

All Leo, Cherri, Harley, and the other students tried to smell too.

“I don't smell anything.” Owen mumbles, a bit upset.

“Eh don't worry, kid. It's more of an animal thing.”

“A hot animal thing. Woof. I might just skip gym all next semester just so I can come out here and-” He whispers a little too loudly.

“Wade! Shush!” Turning, he waits for them to tell him what it was they smelled. “Hands.” He says and there's a couple that raise. Gabby is currently in the back, jumping with her hand up.

“I know, I know!!”

“I know you know. You can tell me after them. Leo?”

“Is it.. a deer?”

“Close. And you just smell Cherri. Cherri? Whatcha smell?”

“I smell berries. And I hear water.”

“Very good! Harper?”

“It's Harley! She's Harper!”

Logan's hands go up. “Okay, Sheesh. Well, What do ya smell princess?”

“I smell…a cat?”

“Close! Anyone else?” When no one else raised their hands, he sighs. “Gabby?”

“It's a lynx!!” She yells, as if she was holding it in this whole time.

“She gets that from me.” Wade tells Morph, who smirks. “are you sure she aint yours?”

“You see I've been wondering this for years now.” He says, letting go of their shoulder and went to gabby, squeezing her to death. “Huh? My big girl!”

“Ahh!! Papa!!” She giggles, making an “omph” noise when he squeezed the air from her.

Kurt smiles, looking quite happy out here, humble and was silently remencesing on the times Logan and him would come out here, how they'd play chase and tag. Sighing, Kurts tail flicked sorrowfully. But that was a long time ago.. a long time..

“Wade.. Drop it.” Logan says, the way you would A dog.

“If you say so.” Putting his hands up, Wade drops the girl with a soft “Aahh!” as she lands on her feet.

“Now..obviously we aren't going down that trail if there's a Lynx so we'll be camping ealier then expected.”

The children cheer.

“Thank god for the lynx.” Kurt mutters, even his feet starting to get a little sore. They've come about 8 miles already and he really thought Logan was going to force the entire 10. I suppose in his growing age he's been relying on Bamfs far more than he would like to admit.

“You all are getting better at your tracking, but you missed something. If you turn your head a bit you can see a downy woodpecker. They're common around here but they don't have the classic red color we're used to. They're kinda striped.” Logan says to them.

"Hey Joey!” Morph says. The Kangaroo kid known as “Roo” aka Joey, was one of the kids under Kurt's tail of teaching. “Look at this. Who am I?" They then shift into an exact replica of Logan, mimicking him.

"Oi yuall see thathere wud pecka!?" They say, clearly in a very terrible aussie accent.

Joey and the other kids laugh.

Logan rolls his eyes, smiling. "Oh, stop it. I'm not even Australian.” A moment after saying this, He gasps, grinning a bit as he pointed. “Look kids. That's a red breasted nuthatch!”

“Oi chaldren i'z a red bested ‘uthack!”

Wade laughs a bit too hard for this to be a light joke. “I don't know Mr. Howlett, you have some competition.”

He blushes, grumbling. “I don't sound like that..”

“I ‘oint sownd wike dat, mate!”

It's Kurt who giggles now and Logan can't help but growl in that frustrated tone. “Alright alright! har har. Enough.”

“Yeah guys! You guys should respect your elders.” Wade pips up, making Logan nod and then stop. “Wait- what??”

“Oh I'm sorry gramps. Did you forget your hearing aids? I said-”

“You married that old man. So you can't tease him too much.” Morph mutters, interrupting Wade before he went down that rabbit hole.

“Oh, hell yes I did and I f-”

“Ah-Heh-hem! Children!” Kurt coughs into his hand, smiling a bit with a dash of purple across his cheeks.

“Right. Anyway… Race you to the campsite! Last one bunks with Ms. Wet dog over here!”

“Hey! Wait! Wade!!” Logan calls, not wanting them to get split up. It was still a good 100 meters until the campsite and the path was narrow here.

“No way you're beating me!!” Gabby says, taking off after him. Despite their protests, Some of the other kids took off too. The only ones who didn't were Leo, Ashley, and Carmen. Ashley and Carmen were older, 14, so they listened to the adult heros more than the younger ones. Owen wanted to stay with his mentor, Mr. Sydney. He was a nervous kid like that. Always near an adult.

Harley wasn't going to go either until Cherri took off and then Issac followed Harley, who mentioned something about him flying was cheating.

“Hey!! You know they're clipped!”

“What? I can't hear you from way back there!” She teased.

“....Storm is gonna kill us..” Moprh mumbles as Kurt decided to take initiative, trying to keep up with the children so they didn't get hurt or lost. “...Yup.” Logan mutters.

“..Mr. Howlett? Can you carry me? I'm tired.”

“You're always tired, Leo..” Logan sighs, picking up the lion cub, giving him a piggyback for the remaining walk.

Leo lion owned by @bougiebutchbinch

_______

Request by @joykai

Owen/Ivo owned by @rabiessnail

Issac/Harley/Cherri owned by me

[popculturebuffet]

Transformers More Than Meets the Eye Season 2 Retrospective: World Shut Your Mouth Parts 1-3 (Pateon Review for Brotoman.EXE)

Hello all you happy autobots and after nearly a fully year and a crossover.. welcome back. It's been a long road but it's finally time to get back on the lost light for TRANSFORMERS MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE SEASON 2 BABY

For those just embarking, More Than Meets The Eye was a long running Transformers comic by James Roberts, a fun trek to the stars where a bunch of Autobots allegedly quest for the mythical cybertron while in actuality figuring themselves out, cracking jokes, getting traumatized and saving the unvierse. It's one of my faviorite comics ever and thanks to my good patreon brotoman.exe I finally got to cover it. I complied season 1 into two posts (thanks tumblr) you can find here to get up to speed

Over the break I started a look at Boom! Studio's power rangers that continues in feburary i'll be doing on and off, then a bunch of fun side quests including Transformers One which you can find my gushing review of here

But I missed these guys and i'm excited to get back to this series. In fact with my Giant Days retrospective starting up in january, that means i'll be covering two of my faviorite comics of all time simultaneously. Also that time the Government decided if they ignored gotham maybe it'd go away. Lots of fun plans for next year.

A big reason besides just the joy of this series is simple: Out of the three seasons Season 2 is my faviorite. I loved it the most reading the comic the first time. Season 1 is great.. but also makes a lot of assumptions in some places, assuming the reader didn't start with this comic and will just know what the dead universe is or who overlord is. It make sense for the time as Chaos was the last thing to happen chronologically and last stand of the wreckers was a hit: it's not a bold assumption that most transformers readers still on board know all this. But it is a bold assumption to not ease readers who might NOT have been there for the previous volume or noped out after it was bad and felt bad, or who are coming in fresh because "hey look hot rod! cool space adventures! queer robots! sign me up'. I'm in the latter category in case you were wondering.

Season 1 is good.. but Season 2 feels more accesible while continuing the great plotting, paying off a lot of season 1's setups, adding a few of it's own and generally being pretty damn awesome. It also adds some fresh faces to shake things up with Chromia being a faviorite of mine, Nightbeat being fun, and Getaway being one of the most intresting characters they've added for reasons I won't spoil but if you know your already booing him.

The biggest and best though and the one I feel helps pull the series together... is Megatron. The former leader of the decipticons, the big bad of most transformers media... joins the autobots and the lost light. It brings the series themes of war and it's cost into focus: Cyclonus is CONSIDERED a decepticon, but while he shares the philosphy he wasn't there killing our heroes friends. One of the things I feel the season 1 cast really lacks for it's post war themes is any deceipticons.. and putting the most infaomous one of all, a man with so much blood on his hands he could fill a swimming pool more than makes up for it. Megatron is TRYING to do better as we'll get into, geninely wants to do something.. but struggles both with being better and EVERYONE hating him. At least to start EVERYONE is understandably hostile to megatron, who dosen't help by being his usual standoffish self. It's a fun situation... and also great for comedy as he both makes a good straight man and pisses Rodimus off as he's not happy about his new "co-captain" and the duo's banter is pitch perfect.

IT also allows for megs to be thorughly explored: why did he do this, what does he regret. Dark Cybertron hinted at this, but now he's a full time cast memmber we relaly get into why Megatron is the way he is. He feels so critical to the series it's a shocker that he's there because Editorial wanted him in one of the books.. yet it works so perfectly. The lost lights established issues with seeing the cons as automatically evil, their war trauma nad moving on are tested by putting the biggest symbol of all thier issues and the reason many exist at the helm. It's an engaging , hearbtreaking thought provoking season and we can finally kick it off under the cut as we find out HOW Megatron got this sweet gig, how everyone's dealing with it and just how drunk trailbreaker can get.

We begin

And we're back, with Nautica, now mostly settled in hurrying up to talk to her new bestie Brainstorm. And right away the series already has a new charming character dynamic: Chromia finally provides someone genuinely intrested in Brainstorm's work when it isn't on fire and a foil as she finds his newest idea a tad questionable: COLOR CODED LASERS, so you can tell who the baddies are. Ahhh how I missed James Roberts addiction to taking goofy parts of the franchies and making them an actual thing. This one dosen't quite take off as Chromia points out just how bad it is while Brainstorm just says.. maybe change the color. It's also a nice little peak into his character through some wacky nonsense: depsite the war having passed.. he still sees it as the good guys and the baddies. Granted a good number of decepticons were pieces of shit, but as prowl has proven time and time again and will somehow be allowed to keep proving, just because your on the right side of history dosen't make you a good person. It's something Chromia fully grasps and adds some fresh perspective; she's TECHNICALLY an autobot, but her home planet wasn't in the war and it gives her a diffrent perspective.

The two notice a pile of people outside Rung's office as he has a very special patient.. and it's here it's revealed whose the captain now. I spoiled it a tad early out of necisity but it's still such a great panel

I just notice the little cubes of energon and the energon equilvent of a water jug for the first time. I love that Rung has refreshments. Such a good therapist.

So we flash back six months and get used to it as we'll be going back and forth to explain well, how did we get here? Rodimus is prepared to leave, understandably as he was just through some shit before the whole crossover.

Optimus however dosen't want ANYONE leaving till after the trial. And naturally Prowl dosen't want a trial but a public execution. He even says it twice, proving that Magnus should've just let Chromedome finish him. Optimus points out WHY they need one: the public needs to trust the autobots again so the trial needs to be transparent. Granted Optimus still makes some fumbles in setting it up: while he makes the wise decision to apoint magnus as the defense, as he knows even with every reservation Mags will do the right thing, he appoints PROWL to proscution. Prowl who the NAILS could easily point to as biased. Prowl who Optimus knows from the crossover as Rodimus damn well told him set up the whole overlord fiasco out of paranoia. Prowl who SHOULD STILL BE AT THE BOTTOM OF A CLIFF INSTEAD OF IN THIS PRIVATE COUNCIL. I get it's not asshole free, Starscream is also there, and Rodimus has some thoughts about that that sadly feel all too relevant

Just that feeling that you can't grasp WHY something very stupid and horrible happened... or why they elected it to office.

So the trial is set, and Rodimus reveals why he's so twitchy: the matrix. Granted Optimus once again comes off as a bit of a prick, and unlike the prowl thing where Roberts hands are tied by the sister book having Prime weirdly trust the guy, Optimus just.. seems grumpy at Rodimus breaking the matrix. Despite ya know DOING SO TO SAVE THOUSANDS OF SENTIENTS. I love this book, with all my heart.. but sometimes it forgets our heroes can and have actually done shit.

So Rodimus is going to thunderclash for help, which frankly is a hell I wish on no one. But he has a reason for being so twitchy besides "everyone is being a dick to him today and the planet is ruled by a smooth talking facisit now": Thunderclash hasn't responded which given who we're dealing with is not exactly good. Still Rodimus being present gives Optimus an idea to speed things up.

Back at therapy Megatron is annoyed Rung has made his fusion cannon a penis thing, a gag I love but Rung points out why: Megatron is being evasive

So Rung tries something diffrent... great encounters. Who he met that had the most impact on him. Megatron deflects by pointing out how they met, the incident at the Macaddams from Chaos Theory. it's a major reason why I wanted to cover it, the other we'll get to as we go. Megatron dosne't begrudge him from forgetting and tries to use his usual rhetoric and deflect.. but Rung's found an opening: See he brings up Megs biography.. and specifically that he found a rare first edition, the others all wiped.

It's a quote I deeply love and shockingly haven't had a use for till now. But it's not only once again precisent.. but also gets to the heart of things. Rung tried finding the change, found nothing.. and then spotted the deidcation and asks whose terminus. Before he can dig in on that, the lights go out. Megatron takes that as a sign to leave to go refuel and then get back on deck so Magnus doesn't get too comfy. He does point out why he edited it out though: Terminus was a friend. and taught hims omething important. Okay it's vauge as hell. Rung is curious though as we find out MEGATRON asked for the session. Also btb, Ravage, one of soundwaves cassets is lurking on board. It dosen't come up in this half of the story and I almost forgot to mention it but it will naturally be important later.

Back in the flashback we get a brief bit of levity as Swerve holds fake "Crewditions" to fuck with people. It gives us a look at the adorable nerd Nautica is and nightbeat eventually shuts it down. It's a fun bit and leads us into what Optimus was getting at: letting Chromedome extract testiomny. Probablem is.. Megatron has a deathly fear of mnemosurgery, reacts harshly and assumes their coming to take his brain instead of you know, trusting optimus. I mean I can't blame him for not wanting to take the needle. Rodimus.. takes the chance to mock him and say megatron will end up where he started: under rock deep under ground with nothing to show for it. And this.. will be a mistake. Not for the whole of cybertron as it leads to some good things, bu tfor Rodimus as it's going to be a pain in the ass in the short term as Megatron has Rodimus give Magnus a box.

Back on the ship Skids and Nightbeat are hanging out. Their buddies now. And Chromedome is.. not doing well just sitting in his cell replaying rewind's message having ALMOST recovered a little.. but then you know, he didn't get to kill prowl so back to depression he goes. Nightbeat is curious though.. the last number on Domey's hab suite is missing.. something... is up.

Speaking of.. I don't have a transition. Whirl is doing what he does best: pick a fight to mask his deep issues. In this case he sucker punches Megatron

It does not. Once again Whirl not only picked a fight with someone stronger, but someone who did not want one. And unlike Cyclonus who simply threatens to murder him some day, Megatron cuts to Whirl's core. Whirl brings up the fact he tried to murder Megatron in a prison celll... and Megatron reveals in gratittuude for setting him on his path, he ordered his men to never actually kill Whirl. I like the ambigiuity: Megatron is usaully straight forward.. but he's also smart and knows this kind of lie, or even worse truth, would damage whirl way more than a fight he did not want or ask for and lets the fight go while Whirl looses an arm in Megatron's insides as shockwaves use of him as a space bridge means his stomach's all kinds of freaky.

After this we flashback as Megatron explains the why of his therapy: he explains the editing that life is all edits, slowly piecing things out of your life, changing yourself for better and worse and sometimes the wordk you've done.. is unsalvagable. You need to start over. And that's what Megatron is doing here, why he threw his past away on Luna 2 where the trial took place. We'll find out what that means later for now the issue ends as the crew finds a mysteroius coffin with an autobrand in space.

We open our second issue with the return of Tailgate! I missed him.. I missed all of these guys granted but still I forget sometimes he was in a coma between seasons. But he's back and Cyclonus smiles upon seeing him coming. He's then massively confused as Tailgate tries to jam his finger in his head as his new signature move, but still it's clear he's happy for a change. Tailgate gets caught up to speed on just about everything.. only to see Megatron hauling a coffin and wearing the autobrand. They both have one as Tailgate got his as a present while in stasis , with Cyclonus feeling it dosen't fit either of them. We do get a cute moment though that after a drunk autobot you da man now dawg's tailgate, Cyclonus assures Tailgate he was missed.. by him. He says it about as directlya s he can without just saying "I missed you dawg now let's go have robo sex".

Back in the past, Rodimus is watching the trial with tons of victim testimony.. too many. In a nice bit to show his depth he does feel it's necessary, the bordedom comes from just how the same it is: so much trauma in a pile. So he's greatful for a break as Atomizer asks him. You remember him right? The red one? has a visor? Hasn't been plot relevant till now o clock?

Well now he is and he's suspiciously giving Rodimus a keypad with the names of every person that voted against him when he called for a vote on his captinancy. Rodimus does the right thing shrugs it off.. twice even.. but Atomizer knows his audience... he knows even at his lowest and most regretful.. rodimus still thrives on attention... and simply says he'll stop pushing.. if Rodimus says it one more time.

Back in the present everyone's at swerves and Swerves now has a bouncer, 10, one of the legislators left over and reporgrammed. He only says 10. While he deals with that and Swerve is grumpy over the new captain, though frankly should be greatful megatron let him keep his bar given what a stickler he is, Natuica, Skids and Riptide, a new crewmember whose less important than Nautica are watching Trailcutter slowly drink himself into a coma. His crippling self esteem issues and alcholishm have lead him down the darkest hole imaginable and it's sad to see, sadder this time around as having read his spotlight and seen just how shabbily he's treated by everyone but Whirl, whose busy patching up his pride, you can see why he's drunkely spiraled. And it only gets worse as Riptide mentoining Megatron drinks some kinda super fuel gives the poor shambles an idea.

Back to the past, and Starscream is being starscream, going on a long rant first describing how much he's acomplished and how much he loves his poeple and exactly what you'd expect till Magnus tells him to knock it off, then a long stew of lies painting Megatron as a mistaken blundering fool whose revolution got out of hand and whose been lead by others. This.. is what gets Megatron to activate his escape hatch to the suprise of no one. While part of it is genuinely good impulses as we've seen. he still has an ego. It's not as big as Starscream's as tha'ts just not physically possible, but it's enough to get him to say "fuck this time for plan b" after pleading guilty and intended to just.. give up.

Chromdome goes to visit Nightbeat. Turns out as he's been rewatching Rewinds's last words again.. and again and again, and again, and again and again and again and you get it, he's noticed a change...Rewind screaming. A change that's now gone and understandably Nightbeat think's it's just grief and Chromedome refuses to see the naunce in that and plans to storm off... till Nightbeat sees something... REWIND.

So it's back to trailwhatevers drunken escapades. Nautica leves as she's tired of water man and skids egging this stupidity on as Trailbreaker breaks into megatron's room.. well rather the door goes missing. This issue does a nice job of amping things up.. that something IS seriously wrong with the ship and the sign on chromedome's suite was just the start.

So he breaks into suplies, checks the energon and finds megatron.. and finds megs, magnus, ratchet, some white guy, guy with a visor and cool red guy with a visor starring him down. Trailbreaker responds by busting out his new move a "panic bubble" that lasts 90 minutes. While he huddles and his enablers have no idea we go back to the past.

Starscream is doing what he does best: celeberating prematurely that he's won, he's the true leader of the decipticons. er cybertron...

The Autobots also got an autobump. But the real meat is back in the present. Nightbeat has figured out what Rewind might be. A g-g-ghost! Specifically a data ghost. Information has a life of it's own, and Rewind was constnatly recording... and him stopping when his spark stopped. Sidenote I just realized transformers sparks are where their hearts are and i'ts a consitant thing in this comic. Like no matter the side the spark tends to be at the center... I know this because of all the impalings. So many impalings. I'm not haunted at night you are.

Point is Nightbeat is fun, on a tear if not exactly senstive as Chromdome is both depressed he didn't bring his partner back with the power of love and thinks it has ot be revenge since he hasn't been contining the quest for dominus ambus like he promised. They have bigger issues.. which i'm saying a lot this review but is true as the wall of nightbeat's habsuite is GONE. Somehow their not in the vacum of space. or something.l the art really isn't clear.

So back with Trailboy, he's coming down and is ready to go to prison or be sent home or whatever just as long as it isn't a beating. The bad news is he's still getting a beating as Megatron thunks him on the head. The good news is Megatron.. is a good leader now. He recognizes the problem and activated Trailbreakers fim chip. Basically he can drink he just can't get drunk. Disabling it is how robots get drunk in the first place. It's a violation of space.. but something necessary as this coudl've gone so much worse. It's also a job opportunity: Megatron admits this shoudln't of been even possible: even with the door going missing someone breaking in this easily and this drunkenly is impressively sloppy. He needs a new cheif of security since with all these extras and all this chaos.. no one.. no one thought to hire a new head of security since Red Alert's breakdown. Especailly given it was proven he was entirely sane and hearing a serial killer in their walls, but we'll get to his fate later. Point is Megatron sees this drunken breakdown for what it is: a very depressed man with a disase who badly needs a purpose and gives him the job. It shows already that while Megatron is still coarse and arrogant.. he's also a better man. In the past he probably woudl've just killed trails and does threaten to murder him.. but here he empathizes seeing that he's just a bot at the very end of his rope with no one actually supporting him but given the panic bubble with actual talent. Sending him home or locking him up helps no one. Giving him a job, a purpose and what he wanted most of all: recognition.. that ... that's a good thing Megatron did.

So Trailbreakers rock bottom did help though: it opened the casket and since no's eyes are leaking out of their skull, Megatron opens it to find RODIMUS BODY. Yup apparently he's been dead this whole time.

TO find out how we... should go back to the flashback. And we do but get no answers: Megatrons pleading not guilty now, while Rodimus did the thing we all expected and reads the data pad.

We being our final issue for now where we left off: on trial. Yeah this bit isn't BAD.. but feels like it woudl've been better as it's own issue in the middle or at the end of these three. A whole flashback to explain. It's how most comics do it and while that can get tedious I now see why: you can thread flashbacks with a story well, see the first arc of the most recent captaina merica run. JM Stranzki nicely synchs up Steve's past trying to stop american nazi's with the present. Here it synchs up a little but it feels like two diffrent stories that are important but keep interupting each other.

I do like the trail as it helps set megatron up: why he's here where his heads out etc and I like his prewrittne response he has magnus read out

Now the mentally violate part is fucking bullshit. That's.. entirely made up and not at all what happened and footage from the cell could easily prove that. That's just megs being a dick. But the rest.. isn't wrong. They didn't pull any witnesses from the decipticons, any of his loyalists left alive who might speak for his character, and while Magnus did his best he really didn't make an actual defense, his judge is his archenemy and his prosecuter is a known war criminal. It's very clear Megatron only let this go as far as it did because he planned to just sit and rot and was fully taking the kangaroo court.. but hot rod and starscream woke up his ego: his desire to not have the story end in shame.. but in doing SOMETHING right.

More on this soon. For now everyone has some drinks and kicks back, riptide studies a bit and we get back to the past where exactly who you'd expect are reacting exactly how you'd expect.

Look starscream isn't suprising.. but at least he's entertaining. Of course he's going to pout his evil plan isn't going the way he wanted. Prowl is also unsuprising.. but a giant fucking dick i'm still baffled john Barber couldn't see as a monster. Maybe it's roberts writing but you can't just..conviently ignore that one of your main cast commited war crimes in the other book or is saying shit like this. Or blame it on constructicons as he'll end up partially doing. Prowl is arguing they should basically have a show trial and trying to imply it's us or them and not "everyone even monsters deserve a fair trial. " Ratrap cuts through this very RID argument with a simple point: Ask megatron what he wants.

Back with the corpse First Aid is examining and has NOT been doing well. Ratchet primarily asked for his help because Ambulons' death hit the poor guy hard and he's been in his room barely engaging with anyone sense. Seems to be going around. Still calls need to be made.. and thus after a three issue absence, kinda... it's the return of the king

Yeah a rare full page here as everything about this is great, Rodimus clear grief... and it being interputed by a petty argument. I like that like Ultra Magnus Megatron just.. cuts through Hot Rod's bs.. that he's now tag teamed by two people who won't take his shit. And both have a point: They are co captains. Made up rank or not optimus judgment stands, but Rodimus was sulking for what was implied to be several months, kinda proving WHY maybe they needed a new captain.. co captain. Whatever. While Optimus taking the reigns from Rodimus is cruel as this is Roddy's quest, he acomplished little and let a serial killer on board on a dare. Megatron has done FAR WORSE.. but has far better motives than his own deep seated insecurity.

So back in prison Megatron is wondering about the people who tried to spring him. By the way some decpitcons tried to free him. It.. it sure did happen. I nearly forgot to mention it but in doing os realized just HOW superflous it ends up being. It shows Megatron isn't going to flee but like.. we got that.

And this proves it as Megatron explains why he' squesting and wants to change things to being judged by the knights of cybertron. He dosen't want his epitaph to be written by starscream. He wants to do something right

He's trying to atone for what he did. this isn't just an escape hatch: he had one ready, unsuprisingly, but his reasoning... is good. he just wants to make a better world after ruining this one.

Optimus agrees. While he could just throw megatron in the brig till Rodimus finishes the quest, He sees the genuine nature of this request and asks for two non negotiables first

Second we'll naturally get to later, as for now Rodimus is freaked out and thus calls for TEAM RODIMUS WHAT WHAT. Specifically nightbeat, nautica, chromedome, brainstorm and skids, all people who are smart and can deal with weird shit. He ignores Night beat about to tell him shit is weird and instead has chromedome once hack into a dead body

Yeah Rodimus is a bit of an ass this arc even by his standards. Nautica finds specteralist symbols, chromedome only finds curosy memories left and first aid confirms via enermost energon that it's him. Sometime in the near future he apparently dies after they reunite with drift again.

So Rodimus has a resonable adult reaction to his impending death: CUT OFF HIS ARM. After all if his corpse has two arms, he has one it can't happen. Perfect plan! Megatron points out the flaw and I just.. love how these two bounce off each other. We've never really had someone on the same level of rodimus point out his stuidlty. Others have but with those bellow the command trinity he can tell them to shut up and respect the captancy and magnus and drift were both weird in their own ways: drift was new agey by cybertronain standards and magnus would marry the rules if that wreen't against the rules. Megatron is megatron.. but he lacks the quirks whiel still being megatron enough to be funny. He's straight with roddy like magnus but unlike magnus has no clear issues he can push. Roddy can pull out the "your a monster card" and does frequently and will call megatron out on a lower moment next time, but it's not something that works when pointing out basic logical falicies and when the person isn't trying to be space hitler these days.

Thankfully rodimus mental breakdown is interuppted as a large portion of the ship disappears behind him. So Nightbeat's right while Brainstorm's latest invention has the right idea

Meanwhile our other new castmate finally reappears: Getaway. As Tailgate is hot doggin and grandstanding at the bar, Getaway comes up and starts flattering him, calling the little guy a hero and blatantly hitting on him in a way that's obvious to a grumpy cyclonus and anyone with eyes, but also comes off creepy... the way he just... butters Tailgate up it seems wrong. And it is but we're a long ways away from that. The alarm goes off and we go back to the flashback. Megatron denounces deciptconism and everything he stood for, a bit mopey.. but understnading

Speaking of MOpey rodimus shows Ratchet the pad.. and finds out Megatrons going to be assigned to his ship. And his pissy ness.. is entirley justified. Now his months long mope sesh isn't, he didn't act like an adult and unlike first aid and chromedome he's not dealing with severe trauma and depression: he's just sore his ship got taken away and if he wanted to prove he's still captain, fucking act like it. Be a leader.

That said it wasn't within Optimus' rights to fucking do this. It's not his ship, not his mission, not something he's been involved with apart from a brief team up. He has no authority over the lost light and should've had no authority to keep it here for the trial. He's not in charge of anything but the autobots. not cybertron, and frankly shoudln't of been judge. His intentoins are noble: keep megatron honest and in the public eye and watched and under fools energon so his strengths down, it's why the special diet. But his actions are simply selfish and not how a leader acts: While sometimes you HAVE to ignore the will of your team to do something right in fiction, to give someone a second chance even if they sucked before, this.. isn't his team. He was autobot commander but he RESIGNED. Bumblebee is dead. This decision is not his to make. He didn't set out on this mission. He changed an entire ships mood, put the crew with a leader they truly hate simply because he knew they'd listen to him and wouldn't contest it and that... that's not good leadership. That's not being superman tha'ts being a dick. It works out long term, but it's an example of the rest of the autobots dismissing the lost light crew's autonomy. They stopped being one united all together faction the second they split and while they'll be there when cybertron needs them, the autbots left on cybertron have to accept they aren't one big army anymore. He's not THE SUPREME COMMANDER. He deserves respect I get asking for favors but this is a unilateral decision tha thas horrific consequences.

Anyways Rodimus feels bad as he was considering generally using the pad as Atomizer suggested, to cull the herd.. but can't. Ratchet points out what a stupid thing this would be but lets its lide given bout the cirucmstances and the fact Rodimus agrees to destroy it. That said.. he also points out it's fake. his name isn't on the list.. and that clearly wounds Rodimus.

So we end act 1 of the story as everyone scrambles to exit the lost light. We get some great banter as Megatron gives a classic villanous unhand me.. and Rodimus points out good guys don't really do that and I love their bickering on the escape pod

Now kiss... but maybe later as the lost light is gone. And that ends part 1

While splitting it in half this was was just circumstance, and it's late release was just me having a massive cold the split fits as while I consider this is a 6 part arc and all of it's collected in the same volume, it really is two acts the first slowly building up to the big event and explaning "why megatron here" while part 2 leans more on the sci fi high concept now we're all caught up. It's why I wish we'd gotten a flashback issue. Maybe DO rodimus as a corpse then the flashback.. then reveal he's alive. I dunno. This stretch of issues is decent but the trial stuff makes it drag slightly. I'm not reading this book for a self righteous asshat to hold a trial for his arch enemy whil ea war criminal screeches to just kill him already.

Having to spend time with Prowl did not help, as .. it's Prowl. he sucks. And I admit a large part is how the series ends, with Prowl somehow surviving all this, yes, really, and getting to dismantle the lost light. I'll get to the context in a few years, but that knowledge just makes me hate him more. Every panel is him just being the smugest most uncomfortable dickweed and it really pisses me off he's allowed to be involved in this trial AT ALL. That he's not HAVING A TRIAL or in a cell. I mean I get doing megatron first but i'm shocked starscream didn't throw him in one as he has every reason just to piss optimus off. I get so tired of the heroes throwing their hands up at prowl being a dick, arguging with him but doing nothing, something that will lead to a whole ass crossover event. And yeah you could blame his current combiner status but it's clear from the flashbacks before his brainwashing or his time as bruticuis, he was a DICK. An authortarian asshat who thought the ends justified the means. He's the Transformers verison of amanda waller but without the comptence or style... so absolute power era amanda waller, but I digress. He's a bad person and while Rodimus actions involving overlord haunt him I notice somebody never gets tried fo rit, exiled or just... plain.. kicked out. Optimus should NOT have brought him to earth or even talked to him. He gives Rodimus so much shit, and the shit over his not resinging was deserved.. but he lets PROWL get a fucking free pass till it's too late only punching him after he's comitted more war crimes. The more I think about it the more prowl's presecnce just drags down this whole affair and I didn't think i'd be ranting about him AGAIN but here we are.

This first half is fine, as while season 2 is my faviorite it does have a bumpy intro with the flashbacks, everyone being a tad grumpy and the first arc really being everyone adjusting to a war criminal being made captain. The levity the series needs to ballance it's deep sads isn't there often and it's only when Rodimus returns the series equilbrium comes back, his man child nature perfectly setting up comedy again with Swerve in a grumpy mood and Trailcutter's breakdown being more sad than the shennigan the series tries to play it as partly. He's a constantly negelected and unseen person lashing out and doing a drunken stupid that only dosen't end in his death because Megatron is a shockingly cool guy. But once you get Rodimus and Megatron arguing and our cool star trek style high concept of the week going, things feel like the comic I feel in love with and thankfully the second half is way stronger for it.

Next Time: We find out where the lost light went, Megatron gets a cat, and a former member of the crew returns! Kinda! Multiverse theroy is a bitch! I'm pulling for ya we're all in this together

[darkfalcone]

Tara's Girl

pairing: amber freeman x reader; tara carpenter x reader

warnings: noncon, forced oral sex, finger sucking. Spit Kink

summary: amber makes her move, noticing that tara and you aren’t talking.

request: Hey! Can I request Amber x fem reader non con smut please

a/n: reposting here because i'm no longer writing dark fics on my main

You sat next to Wes, not bothering to watch whatever movie was on the TV. All you wanted to do was go home - Tara and you had a fight on the way to Wes’ place. Tara sat next to Amber, refusing to acknowledge you with her eyes glued to the screen.

You sighed, getting up out of your seat. You walked into the kitchen, needing some space from everyone. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe. The fight was over something fun and Tara had every right to be angry. You poured yourself some more Sprite, trying to take your mind off your girlfriend.

You jumped as you looked up to see Amber in the doorway. You pulled your phone out and began to scroll through Twitter. As soon as you did, Amber grabbed your phone from you.

“Everything okay, (Your Name)?” she asked, setting your phone on the counter.

You reached for it, but withdrew your hand when she smacked it. You glared at her, unsure as to why she did it.

“What the-“ you began.

“I asked you what was wrong.” Amber said sternly.

“Tara and I had a fight, okay?” you snapped, finishing your drink.

You walked past her, only to be stopped by her pulling you back by your shirt. You weren’t sure as to what exactly she wanted. Amber was a lot closer to Tara, so why was she interested in you all of a sudden?

“Let go of my shirt, Am.” You said, but Amber didn’t budge. Her grip got tighter as she pulled you in closer.

“Why are you in such a rush, (Your Name)? It’s not like you’re going back out there to cuddle up with Tara.” Amber smirked.

You glared at her, slapping her hand away to get her to let go of your shirt. You were angry now, unsure as to why Amber would say something like that towards you. Of course you couldn’t just go cuddle with Tara, but she didn’t need to say anything along those lines.

“You should dump her,” Amber stated. “I’ll be honest with you… I’ve always had a thing for you since you started dating Tara. But what really made me want you was on that camping trip last month. I was up late at night, and I could hear all the sounds you were making. How you were begging Tara to let you come and god… I knew then and there that I wanted you.”

Amber took a step forward, pushing you up against the counter. She leaned in, kissing you on the lips. It was rough and unpleasant, causing you to slap Amber across the face.

“What the actual fuck?!” You snapped.

Amber smile, grabbing you by the neck and squeezing roughly. “Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

”Fuck you,” you spat.

“Such a mouth, I’m going to have to teach you some manners,” she sighed, licking her lips. “I think you need to apologize to me now.”

“What? No, you kissed me.” you snapped. “I’m telling Tara what you did.”

Amber laughed at your threat. “Go ahead. She won’t believe you.”

“She would-“ you began, but Amber cut you off by pushing you down to your knees by your neck. She removed her hand - unbuckling her belt with both hands as she kept her eyes glued on you.

Amber looked up, jumping slightly as she noticed Wes walk past the kitchen. She unzipped her jeans, pulling them down hurriedly. Her underwear soon followed.

“You’re going to apologize for slapping me, (Your Name),” she said, grabbing you by your hair. Pulling you closer to her pussy. “Go on, kiss it.”

You shook your head, keeping your mouth shut tight. You weren’t going to do this - you loved Tara. Amber huffed, growing frustrated with your act of defiance. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, you choose.”

She gave you a few seconds to decide, but you still refused to. She sighed, “Very well then.”

Pushing your face into her pussy, you had no choice but to do what she wanted. Sliding your tongue into her right away, you silently hoped someone would come in and stop what she was forcing you to do. Amber fucked your tongue, holding your head in place as she did all the work. She wanted to be quick, not wanting anyone to walk in on the two of you.

She continued, fucking your face as she got closer to her orgasm. Amber pulled your face away from her pussy, allowing you sometime to breathe. After a minute, Amber pushed your face back into her pussy. “That’s it, good girl.” she praised, which caused you to feel sick to your stomach.

“I don’t think you’re Tara’s girl anymore, baby,” she teased, causing tears to well up in your eyes. “You’re mine, but don’t you worry… with a mouth like yours I’ll take real good care of you.”

You tried to pull away, but Amber kept you in place. “Don’t- fuck, don’t pull away. I’m close.” Amber moaned, fucking your face once more. She came with a grunt, pulling away from you once she was satisfied.

“Open your mouth,” she instructed, and you shook your head. Amber rolled her eyes, pinching your nose and holding it until you opened your mouth. Leaning down, Amber spat in your mouth. “Hold it. I want you to hold it until I say swallow. Understood?”

You nodded, patiently waiting for her to let you swallow. You felt sick to your stomach, wanting nothing more than for her to leave you alone. You wanted to make up with Tara and tell her what Amber had done to you.

“Good girl for waiting, you can swallow now.” she smiled. You did as you were told, hoping she was done with you now.

You jumped as she shoved three fingers into your mouth unexpectedly. “Hey Tara,” she said, smiling at your girlfriend. “Do you want something to drink?”

Your eyes widened, trying to pull Amber’s fingers out of your mouth. You knew you could make noise, but you knew Amber would make an excuse for it.

“Hey, and no. I’m actually looking for (Your Name), have you seen her?” Tara asked.

Amber shook her head, “I have not. Maybe she left?”

Tara sighed, “Let me know if you see her.”

Amber gave her a small smile, “Of course.”

As soon as Tara was out of sight, Amber pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She stayed quiet as she pulled her pants back up and you watched as she buckled her belt. You stayed on the ground, tears running down your face.

“If you tell Tara about this, I promise you that she won’t ever believe you,” she laughed. “I’m her best friend and I’ve known her for years.”

You stayed silent, biting your lip as hard as you could. The taste of Amber’s pussy still lingered, causing you to gag.

“I’d clean yourself up before you join us again, wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious.” Was all she said before making her way out of the kitchen. You hurried to the bathroom, making sure no one had seen you. Gasping, you turned on the water. Washing your face off to make yourself presentable, hoping Tara wanted to make up.

You were Tara’s girl after all.

[imaginedisish]

Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,197 sorry

Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.

But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 

You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 

You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 

But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 

You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”

You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. “Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 

“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 

You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.

Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 

His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 

Anything. You wish he really meant it. 

“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 

“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 

You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 

Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 

But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 

I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 

It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”

You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 

Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 

Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 

She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 

Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 

“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 

You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”

Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 

“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 

He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 

Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 

Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 

“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 

You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”

“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 

“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 

He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 

“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”

“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 

“Please.” 

And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 

And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”

His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 

Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 

“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 

He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 

He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 

Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 

“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 

There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 

He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 

He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 

Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 

His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 

Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 

“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 

“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 

Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”

He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 

He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 

“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”

Fuck. 

But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 

But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 

He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 

His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 

“Mine?”

“All yours.”

And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.

He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 

“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 

Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 

It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 

“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 

You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 

“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 

 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 

He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”

You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”

“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 

“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”

You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 

You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 

He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 

He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 

His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”

“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”

“Forever?”

“Longer.”

[milla-frenchy]

Ughhhhh I cant' believe it's almost over, I'm gonna miss them dearly ❤️❤️❤️

Joel stayed for three nights. On the fourth night, Lily woke up cold, alone, the absence of his warmth like a missing limb ripped from her some time in the soft, orange morning. Panic seized her gut before she was fully awake, bouncing around, squeezing at her organs like a leech. She blinked manically, squeezing her eyes shut tight, eyelashes going spiky as she tried to clear her vision, as she tried to reach for the bulk of him only to come back empty.

Your writing is so vivid, I almost feel the emotions as if I were lily, how amazing is that? 🤌🤌

Lily tried not to think about it, tried not to think about his note, his silence, tried not to think about Caleb, how he was still out there, some part of him possibly still aware as that fungus ate away at him, forced him to do its bidding.

My god...

It took Joel five hours on horseback, weaving around the grounds outside of Jackson, to find those damn flowers. The idea had burrowed itself into his head last night, as he held a sleeping Lily, gently tracing the big, open flower tattooed on her shoulder. Those lilies, the ones he'd ripped out of the community garden years ago. He needed them back. 

omg he left to find some lilies??? 😍😍😍

Maybe it was a little silly, his sudden need to go get those flowers back, but it felt necessary, felt like some final piece falling into place. He'd ripped those flowers out once, because he couldn't bear the thought of her, couldn't even speak her name without falling apart. And now she was here, and he was trying, trying to be soft for her, gentle for her. If she was back, he needed the flowers back too.

Noooo it's not silly, it's amazing and I love it 😍😍

But before he could, Ellie was bursting, like she'd been holding the words in for just as long as she'd been ignoring him. "I was supposed to die in that hospital," she spat out, driving each word home with a slam of her hand against the top of the railing. "My life would have fucking mattered, but you took that from me." Joel wanted to tell her that her life did matter, mattered to him, mattered to her friends, should matter to her. Joel wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he couldn't, didn't know how. So, he said something else, something just as poignant, just as true, as he pushed himself off the railing to stand up straight and face her. "If somehow the lord gave me a second chance at that moment I would do it all over again." Silence fell between the two of them as Ellie searched his face, then turned to look back out across the yard, toward her house. "Yeah..." she whispered. "I just— I don't think I can ever forgive you for that—" And that stabbed into Joel like a hot knife, a choked breath shuddering out of him. "But I would like to try," she added, after a biting moment of silence. His heart slammed into his ribs, while something wet and trembling echoed from his lips. "I'd like that," he whispered, blinking hard to try to dissolve the tears in his eyes, something glimmering in his core now, something like hope. "Okay," Ellie said softly, pushing herself off the railing, "I'll see you around."

Ok, I need to express how much I LOVED how you added the game part. The EXACT game part. This is amazing. I played the game so many times, I love it so much, and your series fits in so perfectly it's so damn brilliant

"I missed you, Lily. Every day. I never stopped missin' you." He felt her tremble in his arms, her fingers twisting into his shirt as she slowly lifted her head, those bright glossy eyes searching his own. "And I'm— I'm sorry," he choked out, the words clawing their way out of him. "M'so sorry, baby, for lying to you, for bein' so horrible, I— I hate myself for it. I don't deserve your forgiveness and I'm not asking you for it." Lily opened her mouth, about to speak, those blue eyes gazing up at him, so soft, so bright he loathed himself for ever making her cry, for ever speaking such blasphemous, egregious things to her, even if he'd spoken them to keep her safe, to keep her away from him, the disgusting creature he'd become. "Let me finish," he said, before she could speak, reaching up to run his thumb across the soft skin beneath her eye, collecting a tear as he did. "When Sarah died," he exhaled the words, relief and agony swirling in marriage in his gut. "That first day. I— I didn't see any reason to keep goin'." His hand shook as he took her wrist in his hand, bringing her fingers up to that gnarled scar on his temple. She exhaled sharply as her fingers brushed against it, her hand trembling against him, those bright blue eyes going a little dark, glossing over with new tears that made him want to scream. "When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched, 'cause I heard your voice."

Oh boy. The confession about his feelings. The fact that he heard her voice????

"M'right here baby, you feel me? You're so full of me, little one," he purred, taking her hand from his shoulder and placing it on her lower belly, pressing his own hand over it so she could feel him inside of her, feel the thick shape of his cock hammering into her.

wow. So hot, so perfect

Joel dropped his head, trying to push the darkness he felt surging through him away, trying to cast it out so she would not fall victim to it, to him again. Never again. But then he felt it, her little hand spreading out over his cheek, and he trembled at the touch, a shudder working itself down his spine, and he let himself fall into it, into her, let himself be weak. "I killed them all," Joel muttered. "I saved her." Lily gently lifted his head, those blue eyes he'd been in search of his entire life gazing straight into his, without fear, without disgust, with something so warm he felt that black rottenness inside him completely melt away.

I love that he told her. And of course, of course, Lily's perfect, perfect words.

"Caleb," she choked out, when he was close enough to see, when she could make out the way his blue eyes had gone glossy and red, see the way his skin had gone discolored and scabbed. And he paused, the creature controlling him— or perhaps him, buried deep somewhere inside that vessel— paused at the sound of his name, cocking his head, twitching in place as he stared at her. It was almost like he knew, like he heard her somewhere in there, like the last remaining shred of his humanity was desperately trying to keep the creature controlling him from ripping her apart. She let out a sputtering cry, blinking rapidly, trying to keep her vision clear so she could see him one last time, even if this version of him was monstrous, even if the virus had eaten away all the life that had once brimmed in his eyes.

And here I am, sobbing again while I re read this chapter 🥺🥺🥺

"The Jeff Goldblum love." Something sprang open in Joel's chest at that, and he laughed, a full-bodied, thundering laugh as his head tilted back, and he heard Lily match it with a little giggle that made his stomach flutter. "You guys are fucking weird," Ellie breathed out, but when he glanced over at her, there was a smile tugging at her lips, and her eyes flickered to him for just a moment, but it was the first time she looked at him with anything but animosity in years. Joel had his girls, safe, warm, with him, for the first time in a lifetime.

I had to take off my glasses and wipe my eyes there, I was crying so much while rereading this.

Thank you SO MUCH for this series. I can't say it enough. One of my favorite series ever ❤️❤️❤️

Nights Like This One: XXV.

"He looked at her, and he loved her, loved her so much it burned, like something eternal, something that no amount of time, nor distance, nor the end of the world as they had known it, could kill off. He'd loved her, perhaps, since that first moment he saw her, looking hollow and bereft on the threshold of her mother's house. He loved her in every death, every birth, every reiteration of himself."

paring: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 9.5k a.n. this is the last full chapter. i'm so bereft knowing it's almost over. i don't know if i've ever been so emotionally invested in a story i've written before like i have this one. i literally cried writing the last few paragraphs. i hope you love it. i hope it mends you. i hope it balms the pain i've put you through over the past couple months. thank you so very much for reading. epilogue will be out soon. ily <3

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[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[cowlings]

my first sauna experience, told with katsuki bakugo. warnings for nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns used tho! reader wears a bikini, semi public? (it's a sauna), bit of nipple play, kats likes boobs n booty, hickeys, uses of "babe" and "bitch", fingering, mentions of the pill.

katsuki bakugo despises saunas. he sweats like crazy during his day to day life, so him being trapped in a room that makes him sweat balls isn't ideal. unless, he's trapped inside with you.

what started out as a pool day to cool off led to to borderline suffocation, the vapor and eucalyptus leaves making your body tense up even more as you straddle the blond's lap. his lips clash against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, as his hands roam over your thighs.

katsuki bakugo is intoxicating. once you kiss him, it suddenly becomes impossible to stop. the way his tongue slips past your lips to wrestle yours so easily, how he bites your bottom lip not too hard for it to bleed, but hard enough to leave a mark, how he always manages to find that sweet spot on your neck as he nibbles his way to your breasts—

katsuki bakugo is a fucking genius. sometimes.

there's a limit to his greatness. because you're katsuki's first everything, and he's fucking clueless. as his hand carefully (and cluelessly) fondles your breast beneath your bikini, you giggle. looking at him, you smile. "you can leave a mark on me, y'know? i don't bite."

he scoffs, "you think i wanna hear shit from my mom during lunch when she sees you?"

"you can leave it somewhere she doesn't see, kats. i'll give you creative liberty, picasso."

katsuki retrives his hand as he starts to think. his looks your body up and down, looking for a spot. neck is a no-go, you never wear turtlenecks. thighs and stomach are off limits too, because half your closet is filled with cropped tshirts and shorts. you knew he had figured something out when his fingers gently pushed aside your bikini, driving his mouth to your breast. he suckles on a spot right above your nipple, as his fingers pinch to his liking.

your body's quick to react, back arching slightly as your hand is placed on katsuki's chest. "careful" you hiss, and he pays no mind. unconsciously, you buck your hips towards him, earning a groan in return. you let your hands roam through his hair, when he pulls away, a smirk is plastered on his face. "kinda looks like a heart. i did a damn good job."

his lips connect with yours once again, and his hands lower towards your ass. it's not unusual for katsuki to do so, but you notice their trajectory is a bit different this time. his fingers brush over the hem of your panties as you shudder, holding back a moan.

"let me see it" he demands, "just once."

and you nod, looking up at the ceiling from pure embarrassment. because it hasn't been too long since you and katsuki have been intimate. it drives you crazy how he's not shameful at all.

he pushes your panties to the side, groaning at the sight. his fingers ghost over your clit, two of them slowly sinking inside you. the sight of you taking his fingers is enough for katsuki to feel his cock twitch with excitement in his swim trunks. and as they begin to thrust, you lean closer to him, mewling his name right in his ear. it’s exhilarating, the thought that anyone could burst through the door is enough for katsuki to speed things up, just the way he likes it.

you curse your boyfriend’s coarse fingers, the sounds that escaped your lips were so raw, so lewd—you thought the security guard would bust you down at any second. and as you gripped desperately on katsuki's shoulders, he hums. it’s mostly during these moments when you see a side to katsuki bakugo the world has never seen.

“fuck—i need your pretty pussy. right now—please—just take me raw.”

katsuki bakugo begs.

your eyes widen at his statement, “katsuki, you do realize i’m not on the pill, right?”

he abruptly retrieves his fingers. “i’ll pull out, i swear—just fucking do it.”

you giggle at your boyfriend’s neediness, “you do realize if something goes wrong, we’ll have little me’s running around in a few months, right? it’s a no for now, kats. we’re still young.”

katsuki sighs, his hands guiding your hips as he aligned your entrance with his clothed cock. “then fucking use me. got that?”

you waste no time rocking your hips, slowly grinding against his bulge. with his hands still on you, katsuki throws his head back as he bucks his hips forward, helping you quicken the pace. “d’you know how good you feel? ‘s like you’re riding me, babe.”

you know katsuki is long gone from pleasure when he pulls out the names. when he’s a moaning mess, hungrily pulling you towards him, you know you have him right where you want him. a few slaps, rough kisses, and hair pulling, and katsuki is at his limit.

“fuck—bitch—i’m done” is what he manages to say before he comes undone, his forehead bumping against yours as he mutters a small ‘i love you.’

as you catch your breath, you plant a quick peck on your boyfriend’s cheek. “you ready for lunch with your parents, kats?”

“you shitting me?” he asks, bewildered. “you’re lucky i’m changing my trunks, cause i got nut all over.”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon desperately eating you out after a rough day.

***

The door slammed shut, making you jump and bump against the edge of the counter that you stood at before the sink, finishing up a few stray dishes that had been left from the night before. You turned to see Simon standing there in the doorway, stiff as a goddamn board with only his eyes clocking the room to find you and locking on to your form like a beast ready to pounce.

"Pants off...now," he demanded, his voice metered and firm as he removed the mask covering his features.

"Well, hello to you too," you chuckled as you crossed your arms over your chest, but he was not in a picking mood. "What's up?"

He took a calming breath; it wasn't your fault his mood had been soured today and he didn't need to upset the only person that could turn this all around. "It's been a fuckin' day, luv. Need something to take the edge off before I send someone to the goddamn morgue. So, again, pants off…please."

This wasn't the first time you'd encountered this specific Simon before; his short, gruff sentences were an obvious indication that he has had an absolutely rotten fucking day and was completely over it already. And because this wasn't your first time you knew what he wanted…

…what he needed to let all that stress go.

Slowly you undid the button of your pants, pulling down the zipper before slipping your hands inside the waistband and sliding your jeans down off your legs. Once you removed them from around your ankles you tossed them to the side and stood there in your panties and tank top, waiting for him to give you your next instruction. Like a flash he moved in and was now on top of you, enveloping you entirely with his hulking form as it fit against your curves until your backside was being indented by the edge of the countertop.

Hot, hungry lips scrambled to aggressively connect with your own, fighting for dominance as the back and forth of the dance continued with each passing second. He let himself go to become consumed by you, unable to find a pause to take a breath as he all but devoured you whole until there was nothing left in his mind but you.

Those large hands with their thick, rough digits pawed desperately at the warm, soft skin of your bare hips, grasping as much meat between them that they could hold. All those curves, all the smooth, voluptuous flesh ready to be caressed, it was enough to drive him insane; how fucking lucky he was to have it all at his disposal now to help cure his bad day?

God you were a fucking feast and he was starving.

The connection between your lips was broken sloppily and with haste, a sting of spittle connecting your lips sparkling in the light as he pulled away. Simon hurriedly grabbed the hem of your tank top and ripped it up and over your head, letting your breasts drop and jiggle with the reverb as they were set from their cage.

"Fuck," he groaned under his breath with a sharp inhale through his teeth as he latched those lips back on to your own. "That's a sight that could do me in."

On the move he leaned his tall head lower as those raw lips began to explore further down along the curve of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and finally coming to those beautiful breasts which he immediately sucked into his mouth. The suction was intense as he used the very tip of his tongue to circle those perky rosebuds until he felt them stiffen against the roof of his mouth and your body twitch from the tingly feeling it gave off that shot up your spine.

Whatever you were doing before this felt like a distant memory as his attention grew your arousal so that your body responded in kind to him just the way he wanted. He switched sides on your chest, not wanting the first breasts twin on the other side to get left out. Simon only moved on after your hips began to grind against the bulge growing at the front of his pants.

His lips continued down the line of your body as he knelt to the ground before you, ready to put everything into worshiping that sweet pussy he loved so goddamn much. Over your sternum and stomach all the way down to your pelvis his lips caressed until they reached a roadblock covering those last few inches to his destination. That was quickly dealt with as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your panties to slide them down your thighs, letting his lips keep going all the way to the mound of your sex; only then did he pause.

"Spread," he demanded again as his hands tapped at your inner thighs, his message being short and sweet and to the point. "I'm fuckin' endin' this day on a high note. I'm not stopping' till I'm on the goddamn verge of death by suffocation, so don't ya even try to move, luv."

You widened your stance with the guidance of his hands until there was enough space to allow his face to fit between them. Hands back on your hips, holding them as handlebars so that he could incline his face against your cunt he dove in.

Your petals were so warm, so silky, and it felt good on his mouth as he kissed that other lovely set of lips a few times, sighing as he was finally able to relax in his favorite place.

"Here we go, baby," Simon breathed into you as he extended his tongue and drug it over the slit between your legs until he had split you open, rubbing the muscle through the small accumulation of your juices to coat his tongue.

Goddamn were you sweet tonight. "Mmmm mmmm," his deep, garbled hum vibrated deliciously on your clit as the taste of you filled Simon's mouth and tingled on his taste buds.

…And then he began to move the pad of his tongue…

Over and over his tongue engaged your core. "Fuck, Simon," his name fell from your lips as his tongue began to make you writhe against his face.

"Again," he said in that gruff growl as he pulled from your for only a second.

You knew exactly what he meant for you to do. "Simon," his name was beautifully moaned from you once more as he focused all his efforts on that small bead of nerve endings at the top innermost part of your cunt.

The sound of your soft, breathy voice calling out to him made the previously enraged Lieutenant fucking crack at the seams and any trace of that rage-inducing day was suddenly completely gone; replaced by a fire to make good on his promise to desperately lap at you for as long as it took until his skin was infused with your scent and he was fully satisfied.

He moved up even tighter against your core, locking on so that even as you bucked there was no chance he would fall off until he was good and fucking ready to let you go. Shit he was pushing you to the limit of what you could take, your body aching wildly as his strike hit precise and deliberate every time until you were right at the cusp of your pleasure. God, his pace was relentless.

Overwhelmed with the intense gathering of warmth in your belly, your toes began to curl together over top of the floor as you scrambled to keep your breathing steady through the growing euphoria. How were you supposed to force yourself to intake air when all your functioning had been redirected straight to that pleasure sensor in your brain?

That thought had little time to gain traction as that feeling of impending pleasure had reached its peak.

Suddenly you were spilling violently, crying out as you tried to move him from you, but Simon was in this till the end. He kept at it until you had ridden it out to completion and finally settled, your heavy panting becoming softer and more drawn out.

You thought that that was it; the finale had been reached and all was good right? You could not have been more wrong. A wet flash of a smirk crossed his lips as he stood back up before you.

Without even a verbal warning his hands were suddenly digging into your sides as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom where he sat you on the surface of the bed. Reaching with one of his hands over his shoulders he gripped the fabric of his shirt in his grasp and pulled until it came off over the top of his head, throwing the useless article to the floor before stalking towards the bed.

"On ya knees baby," he grunted as he hurriedly laid down on his back beside you further up towards the head of the bed. "Over my face. Now."

Simon pulled at your arm until you moved, his need to be smothered between your thighs causing him to rush. Grabbing on to the headboard for leverage you knelt over his head.

Your petals glistened with the sticky cum and saliva mixture he had just created as he ate his first course, but there was still plenty to get lost in and he was more than ready to dive back into it.

Greedy hands rubbed up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. "Sit," he commanded and you bent your legs until you were just above his nose, but that wasn't good enough; he didn't need you being gentle, he needed you to give him what he wanted - to let him drown in you.

"No hoverin', I said sit," he hissed as he quickly moved his hands to your hips and wrenched them down so that you had no choice but to lower yourself until your pussy was completely flush against his face like a chair.

His breath hitched not just from the instant lack of available oxygen, but because the feeling of being completely enveloped by your pussy was akin to being high; he was on cloud fucking nine just suffocating against you.

The headboard thumped against the wall from your arms shaking as full contact was made again along your core after just having come. The tears stung your eyes, your over-stimulated clit so sensitive it almost hurt. His grip on your hips didn't let up, keeping the pressure tight so that there was no chance of escape, even though you wriggled in search to ease up a little.

There was still some fight left in you; that simply wouldn't fucking do as it meant he hadn't finished the job and he was anything but thorough. Simon needed you completely spent and too exhausted to even move a goddamn inch.

"I-I can't…I can't," you pleaded with him as you squirmed over top of his stark features like anything you said would persuade him to give up.

You could hear his voice in your head, you knew what he'd say if he could talk at that moment. "Oh yes you can sweetheart. You're gonna fuckin' take it all for me."

I mean look at that big boy, he could eat and that meant all types of meals, you included most of all.

As if a nonverbal response to your mewling, his tongue picked up in speed, stroking wildly against your clit with reckless abandonment. Your fingernails were digging into the wood of the headboard, thighs vibrating against Simon's ears as each movement of that deadly appendage brought you closer and closer to your second harsh release.

"Bastard," you whined.

He gave your hips a hard squeeze. Call me what you like baby, he thought, you're still gonna fuckin' come as many times as I want.

So warm, so wet, so soft, gasping for air... He was in heaven.

Unconsciously your hips began rocking along with the thrusts of his tongue, riding him just as he worked and that familiar feeling in your stomach returned. Seconds passed…or was it minutes? Hours? Time seemed to pass differently when he was eating you out.

All of a sudden you stopped rocking, pressing your pussy as hard as you could against his face, and with a few more hard strokes you cried out as you came violently, slamming into the headboard as your thighs clamped down around Simon's ears.

"S-s-shit…" you whimpered as you ground out the last drop of your ecstasy until Simon tapped your thigh to be set free.

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed bright red, you fell down on the bed beside him, unable to move a muscle save for your head. Turning your face towards him you were met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes, face absolutely drenched from eyebrows to chin in a thin layer of your cum.

He reached out to you, his palm cupping over the entirety of your cheek. "You did so fuckin' good for me sweetheart," he praised, thumb rubbing over the supple skin there. "So fuckin' good that I think ya deserve a break…but I don't think I'm finished quite yet."

"Oh?" you questioned back through heavy breaths, eyes wide. More?

He chuckled in that deep vibrato as he rolled over to kiss your forehead. "Well… ya see… it was a really fuckin' bad day."

You hadn't planned on dying today, but if Simon got his way he would be setting up your funeral later tonight, but there were worse ways to go…right?

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[punkkture]

does anyone else ever want to be a pornstar for simon riley ???

simon is coming home from the store one day, you had asked him to go grab a couple things you forgot you needed to cook dinner with— and when the front door opens, youre too lost in your own world to hear it. his heavy footsteps up the stairs go unnoticed, and only when it’s too late do you notice him walking through the doorway.

your phone in your hands, legs spread, whining to yourself and trying to mimick the feeling simon can derive from you when his fingers are deep inside you. its not the same. even if the little puddle on the bedding says otherwise.

the second you notice his presence you flip the phone down, squeeze your legs shut, and your palm slaps tight over that mouth that was just making such lewd noises.

simon chuckles because of course he does. thats funny. this is funny to him. his missus really thought she could get off to something other than him? its amusing.

“baby, you gotta start locking the door and goin’ to the bathroom if this is really what you wanna do . .” he would retort to you, walking over to the bed.

his hand grabs for your phone as youre still trying to steady your breathing. but he already knows what’s going on. theres no point in hiding it. “simon i- i really-“

he cuts you off, “lets see what you were watchin’ hm?” and thats what makes your heart kind of sink. simon flips the screen back over and his eyes widen only a little bit, its all in amusement.

you whine in embarrassment as your face turns red, squeezing your fatty thighs together even more. waiting for him to humiliate you, which he inevitably does. it was some pretty dirty stuff you had been watching, something you would probably never have told him you actually watched. a little homemade video a couple had filmed. it wasnt anything rougher than what simon has already put you through . . but the guy kept shoving the camera in the girls face. wet slaps being heard as he bullied his cock into the girl from behind. you could see him lean forward to get a perfect view of the girls fucked out face— was that what drew you to it?

“were you trying to picture this happening to yourself, sweetie?” he teases with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. he wasnt mad at all, getting home and seeing you like this, all ready for him, he loved it. “you a little exhibitionist?” he continued to tease until you nodded. it was always easy to be honest with him.

your face so red at the idea of being caught. you know he would never genuinely make fun of you— it didn’t make it any less embarrassing however.

but simon seeing the expression on your face and the redness that had overtaken it, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

“theres no need to be so shy, baby” he muses to you. turning the phone off and throwing it somewhere in the bed as he crawls up to you. all the way until those pretty eyes of yours he loved so much were staring up at him as he rested between your legs he spread back open. “dont worry . . ‘m not mad at you for this. just a little . . curious now.” his frame leans down as your hands instinctively go to softly rest on his muscled shoulders. “you thinking of being a little pornstar arent you? you want to be on film with your face all blushed, doing pretty things for the camera?” he teases in a light tone, his warm lips already kissing at your neck.

it only took him another five minutes before he was the one laying down against the headboard with you between his legs. your face near his jeans as his right hand carded through your hair sweetly and lazily. in his other hand, he held his phone—camera turned on and pointing at you.

“say hi, sweetheart,” he mused with a smirk, watching your face through the camera. simon’s warm palm and fingers brushing against your face every so often when he was carding through your hair made you feel more comfortable. he reminded you it was just the two of you before all this started. he praised you with a pat on the cheek when a gentle ‘hi’ was heard from your mouth.

“open your mouth and let the camera see that pretty tongue of yours” he spoke. his eyes watching you intently though the camera screen. your wet mouth opening and tongue sticking out. warm strings of spit coating your tongue and dripping down onto the bulge in his pants.

thats all it took for him to instruct you to unbuckle his belt and pull him out of his jeans. soft praises mumbled the entire time you did. simon let out a sigh when you finally held him in your hands.

god he wanted nothing more that to bury himself in that little mouth of yours. his right hand went back to your hair. leaning you down closer to his aching and leaking cock. you didnt think you had ever seen it this needy before. a clear glistening streak of warm precum was already sliding down his thick shaft. the tip was red and needy, like he had never fucked you before.

“open up, baby . . . gotta show the camera how good you are,” he coaxed gently. “lets see how far that pretty little mouth can take me, hm?” he asked as he pulled your head closer to him.

your tongue came out to lick up the drips of precum he had been leaking. warm, open mouth kisses along the length of him. going back to his base and licking a wet stripe all the way up until your puffy lips wrapped around his tip. sucking in any more of the salty essence he was leaking. your eyes flicking up to him and seeing only his mouth agape with soft groans as he held his phone camera up to film you.

the way simon’s fingers were digging into your scalp let you know that he was going to get more from you soon— and he sure did.

your lips covered and coated in spit as his hand bobbed you up and down on his thick cock. your eyes watering from the pressure of him hitting the back of your throat over and over again. gags and squelching noises intertwining with his harsh groans and puffs of breath. your hair falling in your face a little bit as his motions got sloppy. his hips now rutting up to meet your mouth even though he was already shoving you down onto him. your nose pressing against his abdomen as you gagged roughly around him. he kept you there for a good couple of seconds, rutting his hips up into you. your eyes squeezing shut from the pressure of him reaching the deep part of your throat. he moaned and hissed in a breath at the feeling of your gummy throat pressing up against his sensitive tip.

he pulled you up and off of him. a gag coming from you as a little bit of spit and cum dripped off of your coated tongue. only slightly being able to taste his release since he had finished so deeply in the back of your throat. your lips were puffy. spit and cum just caked down your chin and neck. covering the entirety of his cock and pelvis. streaks of black mascara and eyeliner streaking down your cheeks. you were just so messy.

simon chuckled breathlessly at the sight of you. he leaned up, grabbed your jaw and cheeks with his big hand, making sure to get his camera right up in your face.

“pretty baby so messy for the camera . . . say ‘ahh’ let them see.” the way he spoke, you could tell he was restless and out of breath at the same time.

parting your lips and sticking your tongue out— coated in his release and a little glob of your spit stringing down and kissing his overstimulated tip that was right under you. keeping your hazy and teary eyes on the camera lens for him. he patted your cheek, turning the video off.

“good baby . . . such a good baby.”

quick little thought i had to get out lolz

[screampied]

can you do soft sukuna after an argument vegas for fluff pretty please i think we deserve it after all you've done to us

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ MAYBE I’M THE PROBLEM﹒⺡ SUKUNA RYŌMEN. ’

sum. gn! reader, angst with c-comfort, he’s a softie at heart, fluff, petnames, ty lucy for beta'ing <3

“what’s with you today?” sukuna furrows his eyebrows, and he lightly grabs your wrist. you face him only to briefly look away with a stubborn scowl. “you didn’t have to do that. i can take care of myself.”

he was referring to earlier…how careless you were, at least from his perspective. throwing yourself in danger just for sukuna. perhaps it was stupid, but at that particular moment—you didn’t have a thought that crossed your mind.

“well, i did,” you mumble, and sukuna bites his tongue from the inside of his cheek. his nostrils flare before he grabs your shoulders.

“what are you not getting? and if you died trying to protect me, then what?” and for a brief moment, it was dead silence. you stared at sukuna, and you can’t remember a time he looked like this. sukuna was … scared. the more you looked into his dark eyes, once full of arrogance and wit — instead, his pupils dilated and widened. his thumbs gently pressed into your skin, and then he continues to speak. “how can you even be calm about something like that?”

“i wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just be more careful,” you chastise, a sudden wave of gloom spraying over you. sukuna kept pausing every few seconds, as if he was carefully thinking of what to reply with.

sukuna’s almost got a glare before he sighs. “i told you. i can take care of myse—”

“no, you can’t sukuna. you know how many times you’ve almost died? the countless days where i’d be worried sick about you. if anyone’s reckless, it’s you. and you wonder why i act like this, it’s because i’m in love with you, you idiot.”

you don’t even register your words, it’s as if you’ve been yearning to get that out for ages.

sukuna grows mute, trying to figure if he actually heard what he’d just heard. you…you were in love with someone like him?

the awkward silence was deafening, a single tear strolls down your cheek before sukuna’s face suddenly softens.

he brings a thumb up to your cheek, swiping the tear aside before muttering in a raspy, “you love me?”

“i thought it was pretty obvious,” you grumble, avoiding his eye contact. your heart ached, never in your life have you felt this vulnerable. saying it out loud only made you flustered immensely quick. a soft smile goes against his lips — you didn’t answer his question, but he knew the answer. you loved sukuna. “but whatever.”

“oi. don’t ‘whatever’ me,” sukuna mutters, cupping both sides of your face. he has you stare right into his eyes, the eyes where most see a cruel villainous person, you see the softest eyes imaginable. reserved only for you. “look at me,” and you finally meet his gaze, a smug grin slowly tugs against the corners of his mouth. “you’re in love with me.”

a weird tingly feeling crept up inside your stomach, and you give sukuna a glare. “you know,” he keeps speaking, a soft finger stroking your cheek. “instead of almost dying for me, you could have been normal and just said, ‘i love you’.”

“…shut up,” you grouse, entirely abashed. he found it cute seeing you like this. in the midst of your mini tantrum - sukuna hums to himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“hmpf. well, i suppose i love you too, brat,” he utters, watching your face briefly light up at his words. sukuna saying it back couldn’t have made your heart swoon even more, but it did. “and i’m sorry for being so careless.”

you felt butterflies collide inside your tummy before you blink, ears perking at his first initial words and you pout. “you suppose?”

sukuna looks down at you before he awkwardly pats your head. “i … love you,” his voice was a mere soft rasp. studying his stare, sukuna started to grow a tad bit embarrassed. even more than you. as his fingers softly roam through your hair, he leans up close to your face and scoffs. “happy now?”

“i love you more,” you smile, feeling more relieved. he’s taken aback once you hug him. sukuna’s always been so stiff at something as simple as a hug. your frame held his waist tightly, and he’d never admit it but it was adorable.

sukuna scowls. “…. you’re squishing me.”

“shut up and hug me back.” you sigh, only taking this as an opportunity to squeeze him tighter. he was so warm.

usually…sukuna wouldn’t let anyone get this close, yet alone do this. a simple affectionate hug.

he groans, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “you’re so annoying,” and as your head rests against his chest — you look up at him, a soft smile goes against your lips. “pain in my damn ass.”

“talking about your ass isn’t romantic, ‘kuna.” you raise your brows . . . obviously kidding, but he groans.

with an eye roll, sukuna does the unexpected and pulls you up close towards his face. with a perplexed grin, you watch as he grabs you into a chaste kiss. it takes you by surprise, your hands remain flat and still before you wrap your arms around him. sukuna’s soft with you, you made him soft—and he hated it, but a tiny part of him secretly loved it too.

abruptly, he pulls the kiss away before glaring at you. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kuku.”

“…..call me that again and see what happens.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Gold, Coffee, and Mabel || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: based on s3 ep 7 with that scene above except it includes reader and Mabel 🥰🥰

Warnings: swearing, other than that fluff!!!

Word count: 1,036

A/n: yeah I procrastinated and wrote this in like 5 mins

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"And you're sure this guy’s good?" Barry asks, his voice tinged with doubt as he glances sideways at Rafe, who walks beside him, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. They round the corner, and Rafe hums in response, clearly unconcerned.

"I mean, we’ve got a lot of people to see today," Rafe adds, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t even look at Barry, his gaze sweeping over the street with anticipation. It’s clear to Barry that Rafe is in his element, the prospect of a profitable day of gold-selling putting a spring in his step.

Rafe was confident, and that confidence was infectious. Today was going to be a good day. Hell, it was going to be a great day. He could feel it in his bones. Barry opens his mouth to ask about the next move, but the words die on his lips as Rafe suddenly comes to a halt.

Barry nearly collides with him, caught off guard by the abrupt stop. "What the fuck?" Barry blurts out, confusion etched on his face. Rafe doesn’t answer, his focus now entirely on a woman sitting at an outdoor table at a nearby café.

Without a word, he strides over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss her, leaving Barry standing there like an idiot. It’s only when he sees the way Rafe's lips curve into a familiar smile that Barry realises who the woman is. It’s you.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe asks, his voice softening, a warm smile spreading across his face as he takes in the sight of you and Mabel. The hard edge that usually defines Rafe’s tone melts away, replaced by something warmer, gentler. You glance up at him, a bright smile lighting up your features.

"Having brunch with Mom," you reply adjusting Mabel so that Rafe can scoop her up into his arms. He does so effortlessly, his movements tender as he cradles his daughter against his chest.

Barry, still trying to piece together what's happening, blurts out, “Shit, almost didn't recognise ya-” , but Rafe cuts him off with a sharp look. "Language, Barry," Rafe says, his voice low and warning, a stark contrast to the affectionate tone he just used with you.

Barry throws his hands up in mock surrender. "My bad, my bad," he mutters, glancing at you with an apologetic smile. You chuckle at his usual antics. "Maybe because of my hair," you say, running a hand through your freshly coloured locks, your eyes bright as you wait for Barry's reaction.

"Looks good," Barry says, genuine in his compliment. You thank him with a nod, your eyes crinkling in the corners. As Rafe settles into a chair, Mabel perched contentedly on his lap, Barry shifts his weight, reminding himself of the job they’re supposed to be doing.

“Country club, don’t we need to get goin'?” he prods, noticing how comfortable Rafe seems, his focus entirely on entertaining Mabel, who giggles at his playful antics. You smile at the sight, feeling a warmth in your chest before you turn to Barry. “Busy day ahead?” you ask, a knowing glint in your eye.

Barry shoots a glance at Rafe, who seems completely absorbed in his role as a father, oblivious to the conversation and Barry’s questioning gaze. “Uh, yeah. Apparently so,” Barry replies with a chuckle, still not entirely sure how this unexpected stop fits into their tight schedule.

“I’m just going to order some coffee for my mom, I'll be two seconds,” you say, standing up from the table. "I’ll come with you. Might as well grab a coffee while we’re here," Rafe says, rising to his feet. He looks down at Mabel, then back at Barry with a grin. “Mind holdin' her for a minute?”

Before Barry can protest, Rafe is already handing Mabel over to him. Barry’s eyes widen in panic as Mabel, with her big blue eyes, stares up at him with a curious expression. He stands there stiff as a board, awkwardly patting her back and trying to figure out how to hold a baby without looking like a complete idiot.

As Rafe and you disappear into the café, Barry glances nervously at the door, silently begging one of you to come back quickly. At first, Mabel seems fine, but then her bottom lip starts to tremble. Before Barry can react, she lets out a wail, her cries escalating quickly. “Fuck—shit! No, no, no, please don’t cry,” Barry mutters under his breath, his heart racing as he tries to bounce her gently, but her cries only grow louder.

Just as Mabel’s wails reach a peak, you emerge from the café with Rafe right behind you. Relief floods Barry’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by anxiety as you approach, your eyebrows raised in a mix of concern and amusement.

“Did you make my daughter cry?” you ask, taking Mabel in your arms, though there’s a teasing lilt to your voice that Barry is too flustered to pick up on. Barry looks like a deer caught in headlights, especially under Rafe’s intense gaze. “What? No! I swear, I didn’t do anything—” Barry stammers, his face flushed, but you laugh, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“I’m just messing with you. She’s probably just hungry,” you say, glancing at your watch before pulling out Mabel’s bottle. Barry lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck as the tension slowly eases from his shoulders.

Rafe watches the interaction with a smirk, clearly amused by Barry’s discomfort. “Well, we should get going,” Rafe finally says, leaning in to give you a kiss before gently pressing his lips to Mabel’s forehead. She’s already drinking her bottle, her little hands reaching up to grab at Rafe’s chin, making you chuckle softly at the adorable sight.

"I’ll see you at home later," Rafe says warmly, his eyes locking with yours as he leans in for one last kiss. He gives Mabel a gentle smile before glancing back at you, a lingering look full of affection. With a final nod, he turns to Barry, the smile still playing on his lips, as they head off to make a shit ton of money.

[starryjake]

attention | l.h

in which you find a way to get your gamer boyfriend’s attention by edging him until he breaks.

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

includes: edging, cum swallowing, m receiving oral, slightly throat fucking (lmk if i missed anything).

your boyfriend was so lazy.

you didn’t mind it. you actually liked being able to do things for him because he did a lot for you, lazy as he was. he paid the entire rent of your shared apartment, bought you nice things, and was honestly the best boyfriend you could ask for.

but as soon as he sat down in front of his computer monitor and put his headset on, it was nearly impossible to get him to move. he could easily spend hours in that seat not moving, yelling to his friends over his headset and perhaps even forgetting about you had you not brought him drinks and snacks every couple of hours.

that was the case as of right now. it was late and it was rainy outside and nothing sounded better to you than cuddling on the couch with your boyfriend and watching a movie together.

“heeseung,” you whined, standing next to his chair as he stared into his monitor without even blinking.

“i know, baby,” he replied, still not looking at you. “just give me a few more minutes.”

“i’ve given you hours,” you informed.

“five minutes, baby,” he said. “c’mere. sit on my lap and watch me play for five minutes.”

you huffed in annoyance, taking a seat on his lap with your back pressed to his chest. he wrapped his arms around your waist and continued playing with you sat on him.

you rested the back of your head on his warm chest and watched him skillfully play some video game, occasionally saying something to the friends he was playing with over his mic.

admittedly, you were entertained watching him, but then you’d realized an entire 10 minutes had passed and your patience started wearing thin.

“hee-”

“dude!” he yelled suddenly to his friend, interrupting you. “you totally could’ve gotten that guy, man, c’mon.”

“heeseung,” you scolded, sitting up in his lap and facing him with a frown.

“out of the way, baby,” he said, shifting his neck slightly so he could see the screen.

your jaw clenched. you were beyond pissed now and the fact he couldn’t even tell because he was so distracted pissed you off even more.

then suddenly, like a light bulb turning on, an idea popped into your head.

you shifted off his lap and onto the floor, kneeling in front of him. he glanced down at you for a second. you were nearly hidden under his desk, but a little smirk appeared on his face at the idea of what you might be doing.

you disregarded him, sliding your hand up and down his thigh, watching the gray fabric grow tighter and tighter as he slowly got hard from your contact.

he was still only half paying attention to you. in fact, it wasn’t even half. he would just occasionally glance down at you before regaining focus on his game.

you wrapped your hand around his half hard erection over his sweatpants, feeling it grow harder in your grasp. you licked your lips, already excited to get him on your tongue.

you didn’t have enough patience to tease, so you got straight to it. you tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants, to which he lifted his hips up a bit to help so you could pull them down to his ankles along with his boxers.

his cock, now fully erect, stood straight up and long in front of you. you grabbed his length by it’s base, leaning forward to softly kitten lick the smooth pink tip. heeseung looked down at you and offered you a little smile, mouthing the words “good girl” to you.

you smiled back, and as soon as he looked back up to his game, you rolled your eyes. he would not be calling you a good girl for long.

you wrapped your lips around his tip and started sucking, forcing yourself further down his length. heeseung let out a sigh since he couldn’t moan, not with his friends on the same call. he’d never hear the end of it.

during a break in the game, he finally gave you all his attention. he momentarily set his controller down so he could glide his slender fingers through your hair, playing with the silky strands while your mouth moved up and down his twitching length, leaving his dick shining in your saliva.

“so good, baby,” he said quietly, watching you in pure fascination and awe.

you planted your hands on the tops of his thighs, forcing yourself to take him even deeper until his tip was hitting the back of your throat. your throat convulsed around him, gagging silently, and your eyes welled up with tears.

heeseung couldn’t help it this time when he moaned, a deep moan that came straight from his chest. he loved feeling you gag around him because he could feel the walls of your throat squeeze around his cock, and he loved seeing the saliva start to trickle out from the corners of your lips, spilling down the rest of his length and his balls.

you were hoping his mic was muted, but you weren’t sure. you assumed it was given how he was moaning the way he always did when it was just you listening.

but then, after about another minute of you giving all your energy to deep throat him, he pulled his hand out of your hair to pick up his controller again. he started talking to his friends and you knew that the game was starting back up.

you pulled off his cock to catch your breath, frustrated that he was back to not paying any attention to you.

you reattached your lips to his tip and dug your tongue into his slit, like you were digging for his precum. sure enough, a pretty pearly bead of precum formed and you lapped it right up like a kitten drinking milk. the salty substance washed over your taste buds and you had to squeeze your thighs together in order to calm the ache forming between them from tasting your boyfriend. you were mad at him sure, but you still were a sucker when it came to tasting his cum.

you held his cock in your hands and rubbed his tip over your lips like you were putting lip gloss on, only instead of lip gloss, it was a mixture of his precum and your spit. heeseung glanced down at you, smiling a bit at the sight, but it only made you more mad. you didn’t want him to be smiling. you wanted him to be on the verge of cumming.

if you wanted to get to that point, you knew what you had to do.

you licked a stripe down his shaft, tracing a vein, until you reached the end of his cock, then went for his balls. you licked them and heeseung jutted his hips up in surprise at the sudden sensation that he didn’t see coming.

“oh, fuck,” he said straight into his microphone.

you chuckled to yourself as he tried to explain to his friends why he just said that.

you took one of his balls into your mouth and sucked, fondling it with your tongue as you jerked off the length of his cock. heeseung’s breath was starting to get heavier and his hands were getting so sweaty that he was having trouble gripping the controller.

he bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything again, but that didn’t last long.

as you moved back up to licking at the underside of his tip, you massaged his balls in your hand because you knew it was what it would take for him to cum, and you were right.

all of a sudden, he looked down at you with those wide deer eyes, fucking his hips up into your mouth. you could feel his cock throb and his balls tighten with the need to release and just when you felt that he was about to let go, you pulled off of him entirely.

his jaw dropped in shock and he looked down at you in confusion and disappointment. he couldn’t speak because of his friends, but you basically knew what he would’ve said: that he was about to cum. you’d known that, of course. that was why you stopped.

his dick twitched in front of your face, a string of pre cum trickling down the side. you resisted the urge to lick it up, knowing that the slight contact might’ve just been enough for heeseung to cum.

innocently, you laid your head down on his firm, bare thigh, pressing your cheek against it. you looked up at him through your eyelashes, pouting teasingly.

he was still confused. he had no idea what you were doing, no idea what he was in for.

you waited a couple of minutes until he was back fully engrossed in his game, his cock gone half hard by then. you then lifted your head back up and immediately wrapped your lips around his tip again.

he glanced down at you, eyebrows furrowed. you jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, focusing mainly on his tip as you knew he was so, so sensitive there.

he was back to fully erect in no time and since he got so close to cumming before but didn’t, it didn’t take long to get him back to that point.

he was slightly fucking his hips up again, his knee bouncing, his hairline beading with sweat. he tried not to make it obvious that he was about to cum, not wanting you to take it away from him again, but you still knew. what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t know he was about to cum?

besides, his cock twitching and bobbing in your mouth told you everything. it was practically pulsating, getting ready to shoot what would most likely be a very big load.

he brought one his hands down to your head to try and hold you against his cock but you’d managed to pull off just in time, right before he could touch you.

he groaned in frustration, muting his microphone and staring down at you with less confusion now and more rage.

“what are you doing?” he demanded.

“nothing,” you replied innocently, fumbling with the bottom of his sweatshirt. “i’m just playing.”

“well stop playing and let me cum,” he said.

you frowned, mirroring his angry expression. you did not like the way he was bossing you around as though he was in charge right now. you had the power here, and he was only making things worse for himself.

“okay,” you said, though not sure if you meant it.

he gave you a warning glance before unmuting his mic and going back to his game. you rolled your eyes…again.

you focused your attention back to his cock, noticing how the color of his tip had changed from a soft pink to an angrier red, clearly feeling the effects of the edging you were putting him through.

you kissed his tip softly and his cock was wet enough from your previous saliva that you could glide your hand up and down it with ease. it was so wet that it even made a slick sound as you jerked it off, a sound so lewd that heeseung could feel the knot in his stomach again.

he gave you another look, one that was really telling you that you better let him cum this time, but where was the fun in that?

you smiled innocently, wrapping your lips around his cock and moving down to play with his balls again. immediately, he let out a little gasp and gripped the side of his chair.

“please,” he whispered, holding his breath.

you appreciated that he was using his manners now, but you still didn’t feel like giving it to him just yet. he still hadn’t learned.

his cock was beating like it had a pulse of it’s own in your mouth and you pulled off. this time, heeseung hurriedly brought his hand down to his dick to finish the job himself since you clearly weren’t going to, but you grabbed his wrist and held it out of the way, preventing him from touching himself.

he tried to break free of your grasp but you were gripping him tight, making sure that he wouldn’t be able to touch himself and make himself cum.

“what the fuck,” he practically sobbed, ripping his headset off and slamming his controller down. “let me cum already, y/n, fuck.”

you had to bite back a smirk. this was just what you wanted. you wanted to turn your boyfriend into a mess, a puddle of the composed man he normally was.

“play your game,” you said, disregarding his comments.

“no, i don’t care about the game,” he expressed. “i just wanna cum. please let me cum.”

“oh, so now you don’t care about the game,” you scoffed, softly dragging your fingertips over his warm tip, which caused him to wince. “now that i might not let you cum, you don’t care about it. how come you cared so much about it when i wanted to watch a movie with you?”

heeseung swallowed a lump in his throat. nothing he could say would help his case and he knew that.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he exclaimed desperately. “i’m so sorry. fuck—mm, please. please, i won’t do it again.”

“yeah right,” you muttered, rubbing his tip on your lips.

“i promise, baby,” he said. you pushed him past your lips, sucking on his spent cock again. “oh fuck—i promise. promise i’ll be better next time. please just let me cum. it hurts.”

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes again because you thought maybe it did hurt. maybe you’d edged him enough times by this point that his cock really had been too hard for so long and he needed it.

you didn’t want your boyfriend to be in pain.

you forced him all the way back down your throat, gagging like you did before once it was all the way in, except now heeseung had his undivided attention on you, and he loved to see you choke on his dick.

“oh fuck, yeah,” he grunted. “please, baby, please. i’m already close. i need it so bad.”

you squeezed his thigh, drool spilling out your lips and dripping down his cock and thighs. it was messy, but that only made it better for him, and he could already tell that he was about to cum, and he just prayed that you’d actually let him.

he dug his fingers through your hair, trying to be as subtle as possible as he held your head to his cock, trying to ensure that you won’t stop.

“please,” he whispered, biting his lower lip harshly.

you looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling yourself get more turned on by how desperate he looked. you’d turned him into a complete and utter pathetic mess and you loved it.

“don’t stop,” he begged, his grip on your hair tightening. “i’m gonna cum, fuck! i’m gonna c—”

he threw his head back and could no longer produce any words, just a long, drawn out moan as he started cumming down your throat, jutting his hips up to fuck your mouth.

whimpers, whimpers you’d never heard from heeseung before left his mouth, which only showed you how fucked out you made him by edging him so hard. he was entirely so far gone, practically panting like a dog.

it seemed like he was cumming forever, keeping you held to his cock as he dumped what felt like a bucket of cum down your throat. your eyes watered and you were gagging uncontrollably around him, but you let him continue to fuck your throat and finish his release until he was done.

you pulled off his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. his eyes were shut, still trying to catch his breath after cumming as hard as he just had.

“holy fuck,” he muttered to himself, forcing himself to open his eyes and watch you pull up his pants for him. “thank you, baby.”

you stood up and turned his monitor off.

“i think you owe me a movie,” you said, raising an unamused eyebrow.

“i think you’re right,” he said, too afraid of going through what he just went through with you again. “you pick, baby. we’ll watch whatever you want.”

you smirked to yourself as the two of headed towards the living room. now you knew what you had to do with your boyfriend in order to get your way.

-

i was kinda half asleep when i wrote this so idk if it’s any good lol

thank you for reading <3