#i'm torturing you

[syn0vial]

really cannot overstate that in the expanded universe, boba fett gets out of the sarlacc pit by 1) realizing the sarlacc pit has psychically connected itself to him for Torture reasons, 2) considering his circumstances and very deliberately deciding, "i am going to stop repressing my emotions for like, two minutes," and 3) consequently giving the sarlacc, a creature that literally feeds off suffering, a fucking seizure

[caffienatedcoyote]

@laptoparmageddon lookit him, isn't he pretty?

Directed by Mr. Reca

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

probably will be FORCED by Pomp And Circumstance to go to the CLOWN HOSPITAL, for a CLOWN INJURY (may or may not be An ALLEGEDLY Fractured Foot...a MOURNFUL MALADY incurred in the most PATHETIC and LAPSIDAISICAL Fashion of TRAGICALLY UNFASHIONABLY Events......

Anyway. Forgot what I was saying. Buy me 1/25th of an x-ray or whatnot I guess

[capesch-arts]

The difference with these two is that I genuinely think Arthur can change the KiY whole Larson and Yellow would still be barreling down the stairs together.

I think I'm gonna choose one of these two to make a fully colored piece on Kofi for December for you Jarthur and Yellow/Larson freaks.

[kettlefire]

Not so Different. (DcxDp)

The stunned silence was louder than the rest of the gala had been. Every single pair of eyes were wide with shock, fear, and even concern. The last sound to have left the patrons was scattered gasps at the reveal.

It was meant to be simple. A new up and coming technological company had put all their savings into this. A huge gala to show of the reason the world needed their technology. Needed their help.

No one believed it. Truly, who could have? A large group of men and women dressed purely in white suits, spouting about the threats of ghosts. It was insane and impossible.

Many of the big names that attended today only came for publicity. The notoriety that came with having been there when this company crashed and burned in one night.

It's the only reason Bruce Wayne was even among the crowd. Accompanied by Oliver Queen and his own son, Dick Grayson. As much as Bruce hadn't wanted to be here, he knew his reputation was important to keep up.

That was until two agents stepped out onto a stage they had at the back of the large room. A thick curtain had kept the sight behind it completely hidden from the patrons. Until the moment was right. That was when the thick curtain had suddenly been ripped back, as a third man took a microphone and began to explain.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Especially for the three secret vigilantes in the crowd. Not a single person could tear their gaze away from the cage that now stood in full view.

It wasn't the cage that had everyone enraptured. No, it was the glowing creature curled up in the center of it. No, not a creature. It was a boy. Still baby faced and youthful. Too young to be in a cage.

A high-tech muzzle was securely wrapped tightly against the boy's mouth. His knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. His other hand pressed tight against the muzzle, seeming to almost be trying to keep it in place.

The boy's toxic green eyes were wide, filled with a clear intensity of pain and terror. There were old tear stains on his cheeks, quickly being replenished with fresh tears. His messy, bright white hair fell into his face. The boy looked both like he wanted to look away, but also like he couldn't. Like he couldn't risk not seeing the threat coming.

It didn't take a genius to see the boy was in pain. Human or not, this went beyond inhumane treat. Making minds racing with thoughts of what else these people had done to the poor boy.

Bruce knew in this moment that this company had just caught the attention of Batman. Based on the look in Oliver's eyes, they also just collected the wrath of the Justice League as well. Bruce hadn't even needed to look at Dick to know he was on the same page.

It went unnoticed by any other patrons. All the focus was glued on the stage, on the lecture and caged boy. No one noticed when Bruce Wayne slipped his phone of his pocket. When he hit a singular speed dial as he turned away from the show. He brought his phone to his ear as he silently signaled his trusted allies to keep an eye on it.

[kyri45]

Something something I'm listening to Burn from Hamilton something something Macaque feeling betrayed after Wukong went with the JTTW gang Something something-

[gemgdynamight0]

"thank you senpai.... for letting me live" THIS LINE ALWAYS MAKES ME WANNA SCREAM AND CRY STOP THIS

[afterglowsainz]

i'mgonnagetyouback | max verstappen

part 2

summary: after you and max broke up you released an album about it and when you go on tour, you didn't expected max to be there front row after being dragged by his new girlfriend's daughter

warnings: none

word count: 877

a/n: this is kinda told in max's pov (?, also heavily inspired on taylor's eras tour and i slightly changed the lyrics of the song to relate it a bit more to max

the lights were out in the stadium but there was barely any darkness. the lights of flashes from phones and twinkling colored light bracelets illuminated the allegiance stadium in las vegas, every person there waiting for the one and only y/n y/l/n.

if you would’ve told max months ago that he was gonna be at her ex-girlfriend’s sold out concert the same weekend he was racing in vegas, he would’ve laughed in your face. but here he was, waiting with the other 69,000 people for her to show up on stage and sing all her hit songs, including the ones that she wrote about him after their breakup.

he had to remind himself that the only reason he was doing this was because of his new girlfriend's daughter, who begged them for weeks to take her to y/n’s concert or she would simply die. she was y/n’s biggest fan because, of course, karma had to do that to max. so there he was, in the vip section of the stadium without y/n’s knowledge, next to his new girlfriend and her daughter.

the lights on the bracelets turned off and the stadium went a bit darker than before, announcing the start of the show. when a huge clock on the stage came up and it reached the number zero, y/n came out singing the first song of the concert and the crowd went wild. max was immediately mesmerized by her. she hadn’t changed much since they broke up, that much he noticed, and she was as beautiful as ever.

he had to control himself not to sing along to her songs to not give his girlfriend a bad impression, even though her daughter was singing all her songs by heart. he just nodded and move along with the rhythm, avoiding the gaze of his girlfriend who was very well aware of her boyfriends history with the singer on stage.

y/n was singing her most famous songs and a few that were more lowkey, and when they reached the acoustic set of the concert, she was carrying a wide smile while playing a few keys on the piano. max smiled at the sight of her.

“hello, vegas!” she shouted at the microphone, making the whole stadium scream. “welcome to the acoustic set.” she smiled. “i’ve been meaning to sing different surprise songs every night, some that i haven’t played in a while, some others brand new. this one particularly is from my new album, i hope you enjoy it.”

max stopped breathing for a second. it was very well known with the public that y/n’s new album was about their breakup and she hadn’t sung any of those songs until tonight. he didn’t know what to do with himself or how to behave, so he simply crossed his arms and stood a bit further into the vip section. in the location he was he had a perfect view of her, but she hadn’t seen him all night.

soon enough y/n start singing one of the songs from the new album that max new for a fact was about him. he hadn’t listen to the whole album because he just didn’t want to relieve the breakup. in his defense he did try to give it a listen, but it was just to overwhelming for him so he had to stop listening mid-album, but this one he knew.

Lilac short skirt / The one that fits me like skin

max submerged himself in the lyrics and y/n’s incredibly familiar voice. only now she wasn’t singing just for him, but for thousands of people.

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your car, I / Haven't decided yet / But I'm gonna get you back

a rebel smile appeared on his face, incapable of hiding how much she meant to him, how much he had missed her. seeing her there, singing her heart out on stage for a crowd of people who were crazy about her, god, how could he lost her?

I can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move / Push the reset button, we're becoming something new / Say you got somebody, I'll say, "I got someone too" / Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you

the smile on her face while singing the song she wrote made his smile even greater. he didn’t know the song fully like his girlfriend’s daughter, but he knew; he lived it, just as much as she did. in that moment in time, he felt connected to her in a level that no one in the stadium was.

I hear the whispers in your eyes / I'll make you wanna think twice / You'll find that you were never not mine / I'm gonna get you back

when the song finished, the multitude exploited in praise and y/n’s smile grew on her face. max completely forgot about everyone else and joined the crowd, screaming for her and applauding. y/n stood up from the piano and did a small bow before leaving the stage for her next set of songs.

it was as clear as day for max and it struck him like lightning. he was gonna get her back.

[brucewaynehater101]

For those Titan's Tower AUs where Tim is all like, "That's Jason, so I'll let him torture/kill me when he pops by," what if Red Hood walks in on Robin being extra prepared. Tim greets him at the door with a smile, beckons him on over, and shows him the table of torture devices he gathered. It's almost like a kid trying to show their parent the amazing job they did in hopes they'll be praised.

"I wasn't sure which ones you preferred to use, so I grabbed a variety just in case."

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[rjshope]

Now I’m

Walking towards that light

One foot forward

We’ll bounce back and hit another level

for @yooboobies✨

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

He was just being a silly little guy!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lonelyzarquon]

LEGION | Chapter Three

[maskedbyghost]

Shadows of Obsession (part 7)

part 1 TW: obsessive behavior

The days that followed were strange. Simon barely left her side, as if her attempt to escape had ignited a deeper need to keep her close. He wasn’t cruel, but his presence was inescapable.

She tested the boundaries whenever she could. Small acts of rebellion became her way of clawing back some sense of control. She refused to eat the meals he cooked, even when her stomach growled in protest. She ignored his attempts at conversation, retreating into silence. Once, she even threw a book he had brought her, the loud thud against the wall startling them both.

Simon didn’t respond with anger. Instead, his patience seemed endless, and that infuriated her more. When she lashed out, he remained calm, his quiet composure only fueling her frustration.

Despite herself, she began to notice the subtle signs of his vigilance. The way he checked the locks on the doors and windows multiple times a day. The way his gaze would dart to the shadows outside, his body tensing at the slightest noise. He was always on edge, always watching.

And yet, in the quiet moments, when his guard was down, she caught glimpses of something else. The way his hands lingered on hers when he passed her a cup of tea. The way he looked at her, as if she were the center of his universe. It was maddening, this strange, twisted tenderness.

Her own feelings confused her. She hated him, didn’t she? She hated what he had done, how he had taken her freedom. But there were moments when she felt something else. Something she shouldn't.

The dreams returned, more vivid than ever. The monster cradled her again, its touch both comforting and possessive. And when she woke, gasping, she found Simon sitting by her bedside, his expression filled with concern.

“Bad dream?” he asked, his voice soft.

She didn’t answer, her throat tight. Instead, she turned away, pulling the blanket up to her chin. But even as she tried to ignore him, she felt the warmth of his hand resting gently on her shoulder, grounding her in a way she didn’t want to admit.

The days bled into each other, and through it all, one question lingered in her mind:

What was she going to do next?

-

Neither of them mentioned the kiss in the woods. It lingered in the background, unspoken but impossible to ignore. She tried not to think about it, but it kept creeping back into her thoughts no matter how hard she tried.

The moment replayed itself incessantly, her thoughts spiraling into places she had no business going. The press of his lips on hers, the way his hands had held her as though she might slip away—it was maddening. She hated the way her skin prickled at the memory, the way her lips tingled as though still marked by his touch.

Worse, she began to imagine it—his mouth on hers again, softer this time, slower, exploring. In her mind, the kiss was different. Not an act of domination but something gentler. Her face burned whenever these thoughts crept in.

Simon, for his part, acted as though nothing had happened. But she caught him watching her, his gaze heavy, lingering on her lips when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

And then there was that moment.

It had been an ordinary evening—or as ordinary as life could be in this twisted captivity. She was seated on the couch, a book open in her lap, though she hadn’t turned the page in ten minutes. She was too aware of him, sitting in the chair across the room.

Suddenly, Simon stood abruptly, crossing the room towards her. Her pulse quickened, as he stopped in front of her, towering above her where she sat.

Her heart raced as he reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek before his fingers ghosted over her lips. The touch was feather-light, as though he wasn’t sure he had the right to linger. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Simon…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable, but there was something raw in his expression. His thumb hovered over her bottom lip for the briefest of moments before he pulled back, his hand dropping to his side like it had been burned.

“I—” he started, his voice rough, but he stopped himself.

She watched, stunned, as he turned on his heel and left the room without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone with her thundering heartbeat and the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin.

In the silence that followed, she pressed her fingers to her lips, her thoughts a chaotic mess. He’d left so suddenly, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had stayed…

No. She shook her head, closing her book with trembling hands. Whatever this was—whatever was happening between them—she couldn’t let it take root.

But as the hours dragged on, and the house grew quieter, she found herself imagining it again: Simon’s lips on hers, his hands cradling her face, and the aching intensity in his gaze when he touched her.

And for the first time, she wondered if she would stop him if it happened again.

-

She didn't stop him.

Her mind couldn’t stop returning to that kiss, to the way it had twisted everything, pulling her in when she least expected it.

She tried to focus, to ignore the way her thoughts kept drifting to him, to his presence, but every time she looked at him, she couldn’t help but feel the pull. It was maddening. She was trapped in her own mind, and Simon had a way of getting under her skin, making it impossible to think clearly.

That evening, she found herself sitting across from him in the living room. The silence stretched out before them, but she knew she couldn’t keep avoiding it.

“The people after me,” she began, breaking the stillness. “Why are they doing this? What do they want?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as if considering the question. His gaze never left her face.

“Hmm. Information like that comes with a price, love.”

Her patience was already thin, and his teasing tone only made her frustration bubble up. “Simon, this isn’t a game—”

“But it can be,” he interrupted, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Why don’t we play one? For every question you ask, I get something in return.”

Her eyes narrowed, but curiosity gnawed at her. “Like what?”

“Anything I want,” he replied. “Nothing unreasonable, of course. Just… incentives to keep me honest.”

She weighed his words, trying to decide whether to play along or not. There was something about his demeanor, the way he spoke with such confidence, that made it hard to refuse.

“Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite her unease. “How about this: tell me who they are. Who wants me dead?”

“It’s not just about who they are, sweetheart. It’s about what you know. You’ve seen things, learned things that weren’t meant for your eyes. Things that could bring everything down if the wrong people found out. You’re dangerous to them.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “But that’s only part of it.”

She eyed him, wary but unwilling to back down now. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Sit next to me,” he smiled, his voice soft, but the command was clear.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s your request?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I need to be closer to you, love. I can’t work with this distance between us.”

With a sigh, her eyes flickered toward the empty space next to him. She stood slowly and moved to sit beside him, her body tense as she settled beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his presence.

Simon’s hand rested casually on the back of her cushion, his fingers brushing against her shoulder. He didn’t move them away, but kept them there, a silent claim. His eyes stayed locked on hers, as if waiting for her next move.

She sat stiffly next to him, trying to ignore the way his proximity seemed to affect her, how his hand behind her was a constant reminder that he was still there, close enough to touch.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to focus, her voice steady despite the tension. “Why do they care so much about what I know?”

Simon’s gaze never left her, but he didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he took his time, as if weighing his answer carefully. “It’s not just about what you know,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “It’s about what you saw. During a mission a few months ago, you witnessed something. Information that could ruin careers, take down entire operations. You know what I'm talking about.”

He paused, letting that sink in, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “You’re a liability, sweetheart. But they don’t know what you’ve told anyone. They think you might spill it. And they can’t risk that.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing with the implications of his words.

Her voice was a little shaky as she spoke, but she pressed on. “And if I can’t get away from them, what do you plan on doing?”

Simon’s lips curled into a grim smile. His eyes darkened, the heat of his stare intensifying. “I’ll kill them all,” he said, his voice steady, almost too calm for the words. “Every single one of them, for even thinking about harming you. No one touches what’s mine. Not while I’m breathing.”

She looked at him, unable to find any trace of hesitation in his face. It was as though he meant every word with absolute certainty.

“And if I don’t play along?” she asked, her tone more challenging now.

Simon’s smirk never wavered. “You’ll play. Because I always get what I want.”

Then, as if the question had already been answered, he slid closer, his hand brushing against hers, pulling her into his orbit even more. She barely had a moment to process his last statement before he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Move a little closer,” he said. “Just a bit. I want to feel you next to me. That’s all.”

She stared at him for a moment, the command in his voice sending a jolt of electricity through her. She hesitated, but the pull of his presence was undeniable. Reluctantly, she shifted in her seat, inching closer to him. The movement felt like a surrender, but she refused to let him see how much it affected her. Her body was betraying her, and she couldn’t seem to stop it.

Her mind raced with a million thoughts, but one question burned brighter than the rest. The way he’d always been there, watching her from the shadows, the way he seemed to know her every move—there was something deeply unsettling about it.

“You never answered me. Why me? Why have you been stalking me all this time?”

Simon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, she thought he might not answer at all. But then his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.

“You remember the first time you smiled at me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low, almost nostalgic.

Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpectedness of his response. “What are you talking about?”

“That day,” he continued, ignoring her confusion. “Back on the base. You passed me in the hall, and you gave me that smile. Not like you smile at anyone else. It wasn’t fake, or polite. It was genuine. And in that moment, I knew—I was hooked.”

She blinked, the memory surfacing hazily in her mind. It was a small thing, something insignificant she had never given much thought to. A smile, a fleeting gesture in the midst of a hundred others. But to Simon, it seemed to have meant something far more profound.

“I’ve never been able to forget it,” he continued, his tone becoming almost tender. “That smile… it told me everything. You’re different from everyone else, and I needed to know why. That’s why I’ve watched you. That’s why I’m here.”

Her pulse quickened, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether to feel repelled or intrigued.

Before she could respond, Simon’s voice cut through her thoughts again, smooth as ever. “Now, for my request,” he said, his eyes gleaming with that familiar hunger. “I want you on my lap.”

Her eyes widened at the boldness of his words. “What?”

“I want you close,” he said simply, his voice unwavering. “You’re not going to make me ask twice, are you love?”

She hesitated, caught between the desire to argue and the strange pull she felt toward him. There was no way to ignore the way his words made her body react, the heat building between them with every passing second.

“You’ve asked for a lot already,” she said, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

Simon’s smile was slow, almost predatory, as he reached out, fingers brushing the side of her arm. “I know,” he murmured. “But this is the one I want the most.”

She stared at him, and, despite every instinct telling her to pull away, she couldn’t stop herself. She slid from her seat and settled onto his lap slowly.

Simon let out a satisfied breath as she settled against him, his hands immediately finding their place around her waist, pulling her closer. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye, but she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, the unspoken promise of what was yet to come.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered against her ear, his voice thick with something entirely possessive.

She clenched her jaw, trying to maintain control, but it was getting harder to ignore the fact that, in this moment, she was entirely his.

She was on his lap, close to him in a way that made every nerve in her body buzz with tension. His hands were warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming, and she knew, deep down, that there was no escaping this. Not now. Not anymore.

Her thoughts swirled, and she found herself staring at him, trying to steady the rapid beating of her heart. It was as if she were standing on the edge of something, teetering between fear and fascination, between wanting to push him away and wanting to stay.

Finally, she managed to steady her voice, though it came out barely more than a whisper. “Are you ever going to let me go?”

Simon’s gaze darkened, his hands tightening on her waist as if she were already his. There was no hesitation in his answer.

“No,” he said simply, his voice low and final. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her breath hitched at the intensity in his eyes, and before she could react, his lips crashed down onto hers. The kiss was nothing like the one in the woods, no, this was fierce, consuming, like he was claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt.

He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, his hands threading into her hair, as if afraid she might slip away. His mouth moved against hers with an intensity that matched the storm of emotions raging inside her. She could feel the hunger, the obsession, and a part of her, despite everything, couldn’t pull away.

This was it. There was no going back now.

The kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Her thoughts scattered, her world narrowed to the sensation of Simon’s lips on hers, his body against hers, his hands pressing her closer, possessively. She couldn’t think straight anymore. There was only the heat and the overwhelming pull of him.

Her hands, pressed against his chest in resistance, now moved up to his shoulders, her fingers curling into his shirt as if trying to anchor herself. Every inch of her body seemed to hum with electricity, her mind screaming to pull away, to push him off, but her body betrayed her.

He tasted like fire, like something dangerous, and she couldn’t help but kiss him back, her lips responding in a way that made her stomach tighten with desire. She hated that she wanted this, that her body was betraying her own anger.

Simon's hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, his grip tightening, and she gasped, suddenly aware of how close they were. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her, the heat of his body seeping into hers, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Simon pulled back, his lips brushing against her forehead, his breath coming in short bursts. She was breathless, dizzy from the kiss, from everything that was happening. Her pulse raced, and she realized that she was clinging to him as much as he was holding onto her.

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a way that felt almost tender, but she could still sense the fire beneath it.

"You’re not getting away from me," he murmured.

She tried to push away, but he held her firmly, his hand at the small of her back, making it impossible to break free.

“I’m never letting you go,” he repeated.

Her heart was pounding, her mind a mess. She hated how vulnerable she felt in his arms, how his touch made her question everything. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but every time she looked at him, her mind betrayed her, her body aching with a longing she couldn’t explain.

He leaned in again, pressing his forehead to hers, and for a moment, there was silence, before he spoke again.

“Tell me you feel it too,” he said, his voice raw with need.

Her breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She hated that part of her wanted to say yes, to admit that, despite everything, she couldn’t deny the pull. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

��Go to hell,” she muttered, even as her body responded to his proximity.

Simon's lips curled into a smirk, as if he knew exactly what she was trying to hide. “I’ll take that as a yes, sweetheart.”

And with that, he kissed her again, sealing any hope she had of escaping the storm that had already taken hold of her.

PART 8

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

so...what do we think?

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate @lem-hhn @bimboghostface @kylies-love-letter

[slashthrashandcrash]

redrew an old goof to update how i'd feel if ghostie broke into my house to reenact an x reader fic while i'm battling a cold/period combo

[cametotheshowinsd]

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? (2024) written & directed by Taylor Swift

So tell me everything is not about me …but what if it is?