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gallusrostromegalus · 2 days ago

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I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #sosuke aizen #kaname tosen #gin ichimaru

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nanenna · 3 hours ago

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I really like this prompt! I've seen one version already that has me hooked, but I'm contemplating something a bit different.

What if Danny is lying, just a little bit? What if he's still just fine, completely hunky dorey, not in any danger of melting. But Dani, on the other hand...

A clone of a clone. Both done by people who aren't experts in the field, who didn't and still don't know all the ins and outs. Unstable and already prone to melting, the ecto-dejecto is just a bandaid.

Dani's back in Vlad's lab, the man doing his best to keep her stable. For now. Vlad has no idea who Danny is a clone of, and Danny wants to keep it that way. It's why he went to Gotham all on his own, he's trying to keep them separate.

The favor he's going to owe Vlad after this leaves Danny cringing. But Dani's worth it, she'd be worth it even if Danny did have somewhere else to go. Jazz is too young to gain custody of Danny, no one else in Amity would take in the son of the local mad scientists, no one else knew he was a halfa and had easy access to the Ghost Zone.

Just a quick in and out, get the DNA Dani needed to be stabilized, go back to Amity and save her life. It was the only condition Danny had for staying with Vlad, if Dani doesn't make it he's gone. But she won't be, Vlad is doing his best to keep her alive if it means finally getting his claws in Danny.

Just get the DNA and go back. No need to interrupt Batman's life more than however long it takes to convince him. No need to even find out his real name or see his real face. Just in and out.

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dc comics #batman

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mimipolo · 2 days ago

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Nam-gyu x GN!reader headcanons

I started writing just because I had so many scenarios of him in my head I needed to get out so tysm for liking my last post.

No this is not proof read, I MIGHT edit it later.

This man is horribly clingly to an extreme. Will hold onto anything in reach clothes, arm, shoulder. Honestly anywhere you'll allow him to. He won't touch the obvious places that would vouch for consent but he'd definitely be eager if you say he could.

And if you're someone's that's not into being constantly touched all the time he'd try his best to respect that but there'll definitely be moments when he reaches out for you and stops midway or his hand brushes you briefly. At some point he can't take it and takes a different route by standing so close your shoulders touch or instead urging you to initiate.

I feel like he takes care of his hands the best, his hair is choppy and his apartment is a state but he'll always make time to trim and take care of his nails. You asked him about it before and he just said he bites his nails a lot and didn't further explain why.

He seems like the type to be jittery a lot even when he's not high, in fact I think his hands would possibly shake less when he is. His hands shaking doesn't always necessarily means he's nervous but if you take them in yours to comfort him he'd definitely milk the hell out of it and hold out his hands to you expecting you to run your thumbs over them, that playful grin he always wears when he knows he's about to get what he wants on his face as he tilts his head at you.

Jealousy is in his top three emotions. He's far from perfect unfortunately and his possessiveness is definitely one of those defining traits. He would casually bring up bad things a person you're getting close to has done (like he's any better). Rubbing your back and preaching about how you should just stick with him.

Likes it if you run your hands down his back and sides, at first he found it annoying because of how ticklish it felt but shut up when you pointed out how hypocritical he was being. Being the fraud he is he quickly grew to like it, slumping his body over yours and as always expects to receive the embrace.

Lets you cut his hair, it's honestly the least of his concerns, is what he tells you at least. Sometimes you'll catch him picking at his hair in the reflection for too long. He's sat on the floor of your bathroom as you sit on the bathtub rim facing the mirror, his eyes are trained on your hands the whole time and he just couldn't help constantly making distracting pointers, a nudge to his side earns you a scoff before he eventually just let's you work.

Would constantly be twirling your hair if he's on call, he's persistent. If you have short hair or bald he'd scratch your scalp or nape of your neck, anything nearest to him.

He'd genuinely be happy if you initiated touch, even if it's not in public. He just liked the knowledge that you also like him enough to reciprocate.

This guy definitely has a staring problem, usually on your side or back profile but sometimes he zeroes in on random places that make you raise an eyebrow at him or push his head away flustered. And no you can't stare at him back he'll start blubbering about something that doesn't make sense and rubs his hands together to ease the nerves.

Defends you quietly, anyone that has talked behind your back gets confronted away from you. Obviously if they insult you in front of him he's swearing and throwing out threats he can't stand up to. If he wins (if) he'd try to act cool as he shrugs and wipes the blood from his nose and nudges you playfully, scolding you for "always getting him in trouble."

Absolutely insufferable during movies, won't shut up. Constantly pointing out bad acting or something he would've done in the characters position. Will only be quiet if you take charge of feeding him popcorn when you can tell he's about to yap, the instinct comes naturally after being around him for so long. Only times you'll mostly let him talk is during tense scenes in horror movies, it's alright then as he talks your ear off about random stuff in the movie that's somehow not relevant. Your eyes screwed with anxiety to the screen as he laughs and pulls you closer to his side (he starts talking to calm himself down because he's just as scared.)

Likes how warm your stomach is, always coming up behind you just to lay his cold hands on your stomach, causing you to jolt because he's like freezing?? He only chuckles and presses himself closer against you as he squeezes your sides. It's almost as if he knows how annoying he is.

Whenever you two lie in bed there's always a moment where he's lying on your chest, he honestly just looks thoughtless as he stares into the gap where your shirt meets your collarbone. Sighs heavily like a burdens been lifted when he smooth your palm over his hair and kiss his temple. You always fall asleep before him, I honestly believe he's an insomniac or at least has some problems sleeping, he's content just lying on you as you doze off though.

If you had a specific or unique style he'd admire it a lot. Honestly proud because he can't be asked to put the same effort into himself. If you do dress him up he'll feel good for a moment before feeling like an imposter and taking it off. The only accessories he has are his necklace and rings (you complimented them once and he hasn't thought of going back since.)

As much as he refuses to admit other people's views and opinions of him are a big part of his life. And after so many negative comments about himself he didn't see the point in trying to change it, instead he indulged in all the guilty pleasures they accused him of because what did he have to lose? But any kind words you give him he hangs onto like a life line, even just saying his name correctly has him hooked(Thanos...). He'll act all smug as you praise him, nodding and grinning while his ears flush red.

He also loves your hands. Kissing the tips, knuckles, pulse joint, everywhere. Makes you involuntary hold his face or put your hands on him. Likes seeing your hands intwined a lot, it feels solidifying.

Geekiest smile ever oh my days. He always looks so intimidating when he's outside but the moment another person (especially you) enters his bubble he's all smiles and chuckles, ducking his head softly as his hand covers his mouth. He could not handle being alone for too long.

The type of guy to randomly show up outside your apartment with takeaway with no warning and fully expects you to let him in, he knows you don't go out so it's the least you could do. Is already a foot inside your doorway when you finally open the door when you stop him, hand on your hip as you look him up and down.

"Since when did you have takeaway money?"

"Do you not wanna eat? Damn just let me in."

Chat can you tell I adore him 🤓

#nam-gyu x reader #squid game x reader #squid game #player 124 #player 124 x reader #gn reader #headcanon #please help #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader

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tossawary · 21 hours ago

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It's fun to play with the various takes on "What the fuck did Mobei-Jun think his relationship with Shang Qinghua actually WAS going into the ascension ritual???" All of the options are good, honestly.

It's funny if Mobei-Jun thought that they were basically engaged to be married by enthusiastic mutual agreement. It's funny if Mobei-Jun thought they were in some bizarre, undefined, extended courtship that existed on top of their established, much more important master-servant relationship. (The "be pathetic to seduce men" scene with Moshang and Binghe does suggest that Mobei-Jun knows/thinks by this point that Shang Qinghua is into him and that Mobei-Jun isn't opposed to that.) It's funny if Mobei-Jun was actively pursuing Shang Qinghua for years and it's also funny if Mobei-Jun thought that he was merely graciously tolerating his smitten servant's clumsy advances.

My most consistent headcanon is that Mobei-Jun himself probably doesn't know his own take on his decades-long situationship for sure. Sometimes, conflicted people honestly don't let themselves look directly at their own thoughts and feelings for years, because it's a "I can't handle this right now" or a "I don't want to handle this ever" situation for them. Even if any given interpretation of Mobei-Jun has actually thought at length about this strange relationship in any kind of emotionally mature way, I still don't think that he could then (if he even wanted to) communicate his thoughts in a way that humans could fully understand.

I think fondly of just how quickly and flatly Luo Binghe said, "Not you," when Mobei-Jun tried to respond to his request for romantic advice. (It was bad advice.) How many conversations have these two had before now that went like this? Truly, a "if a lion could speak, we couldn't understand him" man to me.

#tossawary svsss #mobei jun #shang qinghua #moshang #luo binghe #mobing

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secretmaniacc · 2 days ago

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RIDE OR DIE

Parings: The salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: Two fierce recruiters, locked in a heated rivalry over who can secure the most players, strike an unusual deal: whoever wins the next recruit gets to drag the other out to dinner. But when tempers flare and egos clash, their “game” turns into a battle of wits, slaps, and simmering tension. What starts as a simple challenge spirals into something far more unpredictable—because in their world, nothing ever goes as planned.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, dom!salesman x baddie oc, teasing, work rivals, kissing, fingering sex, mentions of blood, slapping, maybe something else that I don’t remember.

Wc: 5.4k

A/n: this is my first post and idk how do you use tumblr and I can’t even add warnings cuz idk what should I warn about but I hope y’all can enjoy wtv the hell I wrote, English isn’t my first language so no attacking. Not proofread. This is so bad ik.

The dimly lit café hummed with quiet chatter, the occasional clatter of cups breaking the tension in the air. She adjusted her sunglasses, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned forward, her fingers tapping softly against the edge of the table. The man seated across from her was sweating through his cheap dress shirt, his eyes darting nervously to the plain white envelope she'd slid toward him just moments ago.

"Inside that envelope," she began, her voice calm but charged with intent, "is the answer to all your problems. Every overdue bill, every phone call you're dodging, every sleepless night. All gone."

He hesitated, staring at the envelope like it might bite him. "I don't know... I mean, this doesn't sound—"

"—legal?" she finished for him, leaning back casually. She tilted her head, the smirk widening. "You'd be right. It's not. But when has that ever stopped you before?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bingo, she thought, watching him flounder. That reaction told her everything she needed to know.

"Think about it," she pressed, her voice dropping an octave, almost a whisper. "A few games. A few hours. And then you walk away with enough money to start fresh. No more debt. No more hiding."

He reached for the envelope, his hand trembling. But just as his fingertips brushed the edge of it—

A familiar voice cut through the air. "Amateur move, don't you think?"

Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person could manage to sound both smug and bored in the same sentence.

"Go away," she said flatly, her tone ice-cold.

But of course, he didn't.

"I mean, honestly," the salesman continued, sliding into the booth beside the man like he owned the place. "Laying it all out like that? Where's the finesse? The mystery? The intrigue?"

She finally turned her head, pushing her sunglasses down just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"Not when I'm right," he replied, flashing her that infuriatingly cocky smile.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, and gave him a sweet, fake smile in return. "Right about what? Annoying the hell out of me? Congratulations, you've mastered the art."

The man between them shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting from her to the salesman and back again. "Uh, I should probably—"

"You're not going anywhere," she said sharply, cutting him off. She reached for the envelope and slid it back toward the man with deliberate slowness, her gaze never leaving the salesman. "You want to talk about finesse? Fine. Let's talk about your pitch. What is it this time? Another mysterious slap game in the subway? Real creative."

He laughed, the sound low and easy, and leaned back in the booth. "What can I say? It works."

"Until it doesn't," she shot back.

"Why don't we let him decide?" he countered, gesturing to the man, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

She turned her attention back to her target, her expression softening. "You want to trust him? Go ahead. But let me ask you this: When he disappears into thin air after taking his cut, who's going to be there to clean up the mess? Not him."

The salesman's grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make her smirk.

"Fine," he said, standing abruptly and brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. "He's all yours. Let's see if your little sob story gets him to bite."

"Gladly," she replied, leaning back with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

But as he turned to leave, he leaned in close, just enough for his breath to brush against her ear. "Next time, sweetheart, try not to play so dirty. It's almost cute how hard you're trying to beat me."

She didn't flinch, didn't react, even as her grip tightened on the edge of the table. He chuckled softly and walked away, leaving her with the trembling man and the lingering scent of his cologne.

"You should take the deal," she said finally, sliding the envelope across the table one last time. "Before someone else comes along and makes it worse for you."

This time, he took it without hesitation.

As she left the café, she spotted the salesman leaning casually against a lamppost outside, twirling a coin between his fingers.

"You owe me," she called out, not breaking stride.

"For what?"

"For not strangling you in there."

His laugh followed her down the street, a sound that stuck in her head longer than she cared to admit.

Next day

She pushed the door to the briefing room open with a little more force than necessary, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. He was already there, of course, leaning back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table like he owned the place. The sight made her want to turn around and walk right back out.

The office reeked of stale coffee and carried the faint metallic tang of the envelopes they used to seal people's fates. Spotting their shared desk, she sauntered over and dropped into her chair, leaning back with a casual air. Her red-tipped nails drummed a steady rhythm against the table, a small but deliberate sound to break the silence.

"So," she started, her voice smooth but sharp enough to cut, "how many desperate souls did you con into signing today?"

"You're late," he drawled, not even bothering to glance up from the notepad he was scribbling on, "I've already got a head start."

She ignored him, tossing her clipboard onto the table with a loud thwack. "Four recruits," she announced, while sitting in the chair across from him.

That got his attention. He arched an eyebrow, finally glancing up. "Four? That's cute."

Her lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. "Better than your three."

The smug grin he'd been wearing all evening faltered for a split second, and the sight was immensely satisfying. He quickly recovered, sitting up straighter and folding his arms over his chest. "Who says I only got three?"

"I saw you at the station earlier," she shot back. "Your guy ran off before you could even give him the envelope."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "He came back. Took the bait. Easy money."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing. With him, it was impossible to tell. He could sell a lie as easily as breathing, and she hated how good he was at it.

"Let's see the proof, then," she said, gesturing to his notepad.

He hesitated, just long enough for her to pounce.

"Liar," she said smugly, leaning back in her chair.

"Fine," he admitted, tossing the notepad onto the table. "Three. But mine were quality recruits. You're probably scraping the bottom of the barrel as usual."

She bristled at that, her fingers curling into fists under the table. "Quality? The last guy you brought in was a drunk who passed out halfway through the first game."

"And he still made it further than your little college dropout," he countered.

"That dropout lasted three games," she snapped. "And he made us more money than any of your recruits ever have."

"Us?" He laughed, the sound low and mocking. "Sweetheart, there is no 'us.' This is a solo game, remember? And right now, you're losing."

The word sweetheart grated against her nerves, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn't about to let him see how much he was getting under her skin.

"Keep telling yourself that," she said coolly, pulling out a pen and jotting down the day's numbers on her clipboard. "Meanwhile, I'll be over here actually doing my job."

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and snatched the clipboard out of her hands.

"Hey!" she protested, but he held it just out of her reach, flipping through the pages with a smug grin.

"Let's see... Ah, there it is," he said, tapping the page with the end of her pen. "Four names. Not bad. But you forgot to include the part where they all looked ready to bolt the second you left."

She lunged for the clipboard, but he pulled it back again, chuckling under his breath. "Careful now," he teased. "Wouldn't want to make a scene, would we?"

She glared at him, her jaw tightening. "Give it back."

"Say please."

"Go to hell."

He laughed again, but this time, he relented, sliding the clipboard across the table. She snatched it up, smoothing the crumpled pages with deliberate care.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered, not bothering to look at him.

"And yet, you keep coming back," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

She bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose her composure. Instead, she focused on her clipboard, pretending he didn't exist.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he broke it.

"You know, you're lucky you have me as competition."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I keep you on your toes," he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Admit it. If it weren't for me, this job would be boring as hell."

"Boring?" she repeated, her tone icy. "You think ruining people's lives is boring?"

"Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "We both know you enjoy the thrill just as much as I do."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.

"Speaking of thrill," he continued, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how about a little wager?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of wager?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Next recruit wins."

"Wins what?" she asked warily.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Bragging rights. And dinner."

She snorted. "You think I'd let you take me to dinner?"

"Who said I'd be taking you?" he shot back, his grin widening. "You'd be taking me."

The audacity of it made her laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the sterile room.

"Fine," she said, standing up and smoothing her pencil skirt. "But don't cry when you lose."

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie. "Worry about yourself."

With that, she grabbed her clipboard and swept out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.

Later That Night

The neon lights of the city cast a harsh glow on the bustling streets, illuminating the restless hum of nightlife. Cars honked in the distance, their headlights cutting through the mist rising from sewer grates. She stood near the entrance of a seedy-looking diner, a faint flicker of its neon sign sputtering above her. The air smelled of fried food and rain-soaked pavement, but she didn't notice. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a predator hunting for its next meal.

She didn't need long to spot potential. It was always the same—the defeated ones, with slumped shoulders and darting eyes. They carried their desperation in their posture, wearing it like a beacon.

Her instincts honed in on a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit leaning against a lamppost. He clutched a briefcase to his chest like it was his last lifeline, his lips moving silently, perhaps rehearsing excuses or trying to summon courage to return home empty-handed.

Perfect.

Before she could move, a faint ripple of awareness prickled at the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Stalking me now?" she asked, her tone sharp but low enough to remain unnoticed.

"Just observing," came his smooth reply, closer than she expected. "Wouldn't want you accusing me of cheating."

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she held it back. "You can't cheat at something you're already losing."

"Keep telling yourself that," he said, and she could feel the smirk in his voice without even glancing back.

She pushed his presence to the back of her mind, focusing instead on her target. With a subtle breath, she strode forward, heels clicking against the pavement, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the street. She approached the man with the kind of confidence that disarmed even the wariest prey.

"Rough night?" she asked, her voice soft and sympathetic, like the purr of a cat just before it strikes.

The man flinched slightly, his tired eyes meeting hers with a flicker of suspicion. "Something like that," he muttered, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

She tilted her head, her expression warm but unreadable. "Well," she said, slipping an envelope from her jacket pocket and holding it out to him, "what if I told you there's a way to turn your luck around?"

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking between her face and the envelope as if weighing the risks. Behind her, she felt his presence again, closer this time. The faintest shuffle of shoes on asphalt told her he was watching, and she resisted the urge to smirk. This one was as good as hers.

Just as the man reached out to take the envelope, a hand shot over her shoulder and plucked it from her grasp.

"Now, now," he said, stepping into view with that maddeningly smug grin, twirling the envelope between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. "Let's not rush things."

Her jaw tightened, the air around her practically crackling with tension. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her voice low and sharp.

"Just helping out," he replied, unfazed by her glare. With a deliberate slowness, he handed the envelope back to her, throwing in a playful wink that made her blood boil.

The man, caught in the crossfire, glanced between them, his confusion turning into hesitation. "Uh... Is this some kind of scam?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, his tone dripping with practiced reassurance. His smile widened, radiating a charm that seemed almost genuine. "We're just offering a little game. High stakes, high rewards. Interested?"

The man hesitated, his grip on the briefcase tightening. "What kind of game?"

"It's simple," he said, crouching and slamming the folded paper onto the pavement with a sharp snap. "You use your own tile and try to flip mine. If you win, you keep the envelope and some extra cash." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, fanning them out enticingly.

"And if I lose?"

He smirked, the gesture sharp and taunting. "Then I get to slap you. Fair trade, don't you think?"

The man recoiled, his skepticism deepening. "What kind of twisted game is this?"

"Just a little fun," the salesman said, his tone light but unyielding. "Besides, no one plays if they think they're going to lose. Are you scared you'll lose?"

She suppressed a groan. He always did this—pushing just hard enough to make them take the bait.

"Or, you take the envelope and walk away, no games required." She suggested.

Her rival's chuckle was low, almost teasing. "Where's the fun in that? And where's the money he so desperately needs, Let him decide."

The man glanced at the envelope, then at the money, and finally at the salesman's smirk. "Fine. I'll play."

Her rival's grin widened. "Excellent.", gesturing toward a nearby alleyway. "Let's make this quick."

She followed them into the dimly lit alley, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. He always turned everything into a game, always needed to prove he was one step ahead

He handed the man a folded paper tile, stepping back and gesturing for him to begin. The man crouched, his hand trembling slightly as he slapped his tile against the one on the ground. It barely budged.

"Not bad," the salesman said, picking up the tile. "But let me show you how it's done."

He crouched, his movements fluid and confident. With a sharp snap, his tile slammed down, flipping the man's effortlessly.

Without missing a beat, he straightened and grinned. "Looks like I win this round." He raised his hand, his smirk deepening.

The man flinched, bracing himself, but the salesman stopped short, hovering just close enough to make him sweat. Before delivering a slap that echoed through the alleyway like a gunshot. The man staggered back, holding his cheek with a mix of shock and indignation.

"Oh my—" she whispered, flinching

The salesman, unfazed and borderline proud, grinned down at the man. "another round?."

The man blinked, rubbing his face. "don't you think this was abit painful?"

"Wasn't this our deal?"

"Alright, I'll go again," the man exclaimed, determination etched on his face. He grabbed the colored tile with trembling fingers and slammed it down with force.

The tile on the ground barely budged.

Slap.

Minutes passed, and the man refused to give up, his voice hoarse as he repeatedly asked for another round. His face, now blotched with red and purpling bruises, told the story of his futile persistence.

Growing impatient with the drawn-out game and the waste of her time, she decided to intervene. Not only had her rival stolen her recruit, but he was also dragging this nonsense far longer than necessary.

"I'll go easy on you this time," she heard him say, his voice laced with mock compassion.

"Or," she interjected sharply, pulling a thick stack of cash from her pocket, "you let me take over and raise the stakes."

Her rival's brows lifted, amusement lighting up his face. "Feeling brave, are we?"

"I just like winning," she retorted, her tone clipped as she handed the cash and envelope to the bruised man. "I don't think you have a reason to continue this."

The man hesitated for only a moment before greed overtook him. He snatched the envelope and money from her outstretched hand, shoving them hastily into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, practically sprinting into the crowd and out of sight.

She turned, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto her rival. "Happy now? You scared him off."

He smirked, stepping closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. "Scared him? I think I made his night."

"Your ego is insufferable," she said, arms crossing over her chest.

"Is it?" he countered, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a maddeningly light touch. "Or is it just that you don't like losing?"

Her pulse quickened at the proximity, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. "I didn't lose. He took my deal."

His smirk deepened, his expression dripping with arrogance. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Before she could reply, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur. "The game's not over yet. Want to take his place?"

Her breath caught as his fingers grazed hers, sliding the blue tile into her palm before he pulled away. The motion was deliberate, calculated to unnerve her, but she refused to let him win that easily.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her chin upward as she crouched down. Focusing on the game, she slapped her tile against the ground with all the force she could muster.

The crack echoed through the narrow alley, but the result was disappointing—the tile barely shifted.

"Tough break," he quipped, crouching beside her, his voice a teasing whisper. "Maybe you should let me teach you a thing or two."

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and unwavering. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, an electric crackle in the chilly air.

"I don't need your lessons," she bit out, rising to her feet and brushing past him, her jaw tight.

"Alright then," he said with infuriating ease. He crouched effortlessly, his movements smooth as silk. With a single, sharp slap, his tile flipped hers with almost mocking precision.

Standing, he turned toward her, a mock pout curving his lips. "I guess I'll have to slap that pretty face of yours now. May I?" he asked, his voice dripping with a false politeness that made her blood boil.

Her jaw tightened, and she nodded stiffly. Before she could brace herself, his hand connected sharply with her cheek. The slap rang out in the alleyway like a firecracker, her head snapping to the side with the force.

Pain bloomed hot and fast, her body recoiling slightly as she stumbled a step back. She could already feel the beginnings of a bruise forming, the sting radiating from her skin.

Her chest rose and fell as she steadied herself. "Again," she demanded, her voice steely.

This time, she took her turn, and with a fierce slap of her tile, she flipped his. A slow, triumphant grin spread across her face.

"Your turn," she said smoothly, stepping closer.

His smug grin never wavered, even as he leaned in for his next move. The sharp crack of his tile meeting her tile.

he missed.

His tile flipped awkwardly, tumbling off-course and skidding out of bounds. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but before he could recover, her palm came down with brutal precision. The slap echoed louder this time.

He staggered slightly, his face turning away as her hand left a bright, stinging imprint on his cheekbone. The smirk she wore grew darker, more dangerous. "Losing your touch?" she taunted, her voice mocking.

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, merely resetting the tiles and motioning for the game to continue.

The game continued, the back-and-forth intensified, each slap a resounding echo through the narrow alleyway. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, thickening with every calculated strike. Her cheek throbbed, the sting from his earlier slap blooming into a vivid bruise, while his jawline reddened with the marks of her retaliation.

Then she missed.

Her tile spun wildly off-course, landing far from where it needed to be. The mistake was glaring, and he seized the moment without hesitation. His hand came down with brutal force, striking her cheek hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

The impact sent her staggering, and this time, a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. She stood frozen for a moment, her fingers brushing against her upper lip. Crimson streaks stained her pale skin, a sharp contrast that only seemed to embolden her defiance.

She tilted her head back slightly, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it rather than cleaning it. When she looked back at him, her smirk was intact, as sharp as ever.

"What's the matter?" she teased, her voice biting despite the blood. "that's all what you've got?"

For the first time, his confidence faltered. His hand, raised for the next strike, but then froze mid-air. Her face painted with blood hit harder than any slap, and the hesitation in his expression was palpable.

Before she could press further, he stepped forward abruptly, closing the distance between them in one smooth, deliberate motion. His hand dropped from the air to grip her arm firmly, and he pushed her back against the cold brick wall.

The impact stole the air from her lungs, the rough texture of the wall biting into her back. Yet her smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew sharper, her chin tilting upward as if daring him to try harder. His arms came up, caging her in, palms pressed against the wall on either side of her head. Her breath hitched at his closeness, but she refused to let him see her flinch.

His eyes flicked to her nose, catching the blood still trickling down. Slowly, with deliberate precision, he raised his hand.

She braced herself for another strike, but instead, his thumb brushed against her face. The unexpected gentleness of the motion sent a shiver down her spine, though she masked it well. His thumb wiped away the blood, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

He pulled his hand back, glancing at the crimson streak now staining his thumb. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and wiped it clean on her shirt, the motion casual but calculated.

"Better?" he asked, his tone mocking, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Her smirk dissolved into a sharp scowl, her voice snapping as she opened her mouth. "You—"

He cut her off without a word, his lips crashing against hers in a fiery, passionate kiss. The world around them faded as his hand ditched the wall completely, roaming over her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

For a moment, she pulled back, eyes wide with shock, breathless and taken aback as if the kiss had surged through her like electricity, igniting every nerve ending. What had just happened? How had everything shifted in the blink of an eye? But before she could fully process the intensity of her feelings, his grip tightened on her hips, anchoring her in place, and the heat radiating from him was undeniable, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Her heart raced, a wild flutter in her chest that felt like it could lift her off the ground. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at her, a primal pull she could no longer resist. The air was thick with tension, charged with unspoken promises, and just when she thought she might pull away entirely, the fire in his gaze ignited something deep within her.

With a soft sigh of surrender, she leaned back into him, allowing herself to melt against his body. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek, as if memorizing the delicate curve of her features. And then his lips crashed into hers again, hungry and demanding, hungry as though he had been waiting for this moment forever. This time, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers in a slow, teasing rhythm that sent shivers down her spine.

She gasped at the sheer sensation, heat pooling in her core as every ounce of tension from earlier evaporated in an instant. The taste of him was intoxicating—warm, slightly sweet, and utterly captivating. Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him for more.

He pulled her closer still, his hands roaming over the small of her back, mapping every curve as if he were trying to memorize her with his touch, urging her to lift her legs around his waist. Instinctively, she obliged, feeling the strength of his body as he lifted her effortlessly. she wrapped her legs around his waist, instinctively urging him to lift her higher, to take her deeper into his embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly—two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match.

The world around them vanished, a blurred backdrop to this moment where only they existed. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down her jaw, throughout until he meets her neck, pausing to nibble at the sensitive skin just below her ear, igniting fire in her veins with each flick of his tongue and gentle bite. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her tightly as if he feared she might slip away. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt electric.

When his lips began to trail again over her delicate skin, she hissed, "You can't leave more marks; they'll know."

He paused, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, a teasing light in his eyes. "How would they know it's me?" he murmured against her skin.

"The cameras," she whispered, referring to the implanted devices on both their jackets that monitored their work. But just as the words left her lips, she felt his mouth curl into a smirk against her neck.

"Then we might as well give them a show and leave as many marks as I want." He falls back into her skin, his lips teasing the flesh between his teeth as he moves to mark her as his own. His lips pause at one of the pulse points on her neck, noticing how her heartbeat quickens and flutters. Was this typical?

He wasn't sure, but he finds himself praying it's a good thing. A chuckle escapes him as her hands grow desperate, pulling at the back of his head, stifling a groan. "Easy, girl."

"Remember when you said you'd never kiss me? That I wasn't worth it?" she teases, a playful smile flickering on her lips.

"Fuck, did I really say that? I don't recall," he replies, feigning shock.

"Just saying that because you can't make me come," she laughs softly against him, and he can't help the way a small smile curves his lips. His fingers slip underneath her skirt, pushing past the hem of her panties. He finds her wetness already coating his fingers. "Can't make you come yet you're so wet for me, hm?"

She bites her lip, allowing her hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelops her thoughts. Though he's unsure of what exactly to do, he has overheard other men discussing this, and he hopes it delivers as much pleasure as they say when he dips a finger inside her. She's loose around him, wet, eagerly sucking him in. He quickly adds another finger, finding his rhythm almost immediately and growing bold. He dares to let his thumb tease the edges of her clit.

He notices the way her nails dig into his shoulders, biting her tongue so hard that crimson might seep forth at any moment.

The salesman had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, yet none had reacted the way she did. They were quick to show their responses, every emotion not hidden behind a curtain of embarrassment; yet now, despite the situation, she found herself shy about making noise. He allows another finger to push inside her, the pink velvet of her insides gripping him. He hears her gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. His thumb finds her clit again, and that's when her grip becomes lethal, biting her lip no longer serving as a guard for her moans.

"Please," she mumbles, whimpering.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"I... I need you," she moans, surprising herself with her confessions to a man so dangerously psychotic, one who has killed and toyed with lives—this was something she swore she would never do. Yet here she was, becoming intimate with him, and his touch felt so gentle it was as if his past didn't exist. She can see the vein pulsing in his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes fixed on hers as he moves his hand to his mouth, savoring her taste.

Her pupils dilate at the sight, skin warming before she realizes she's replacing his fingers with her tongue, pressing her mouth against his again. His hand falls to her waist.

Now every kiss deepens, an intoxicating blend of urgency and desire. She feels each heartbeat echoing between them. Every brush of their lips sends sparks racing through her veins, igniting every part of her being. It's primal and raw, yet intimately tender, as if they were revealing hidden parts of themselves that only the other could see.

Their lips finally part after what feels like an eternity, both gasping for breath. Foreheads resting against each other, they feel the warmth radiating from their skin, their hearts racing in unison. His eyes flutter open to find her looking up at him, a soft, teasing smile spreading across her face.

"You can put me down now," she breathes, her eyes dancing with mischief.

He reluctantly lowers her to the ground, still holding her gaze, trying to steady himself.

But as soon as her feet touch the ground, she kneels right at his crotch. "That's for not giving me a warning," she laughs, her sound teasing and light.

He winces, a mixture of surprise and discomfort crossing his features as he stumbles back. "Fuck."

She turns with a gleaming smile, beginning to walk away, glancing over her shoulder. "And now... I win. Dinner is on you," she calls back, her laughter lingering in the air.

"We are not done yet!" he calls out one last time, holding himself in pain.

part 2

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game salesman #squid game smut #the salesman #the salesman x reader #salesman smut #gong yoo x reader #first post #be nice #i’ll cry

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rhube · 3 days ago

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Gavin doesn't smoke! No one smokes in DBH! They have envisioned a future where society has moved past this deadly and unnecessary habit! Why the fuck are ppl reintroducing it?? It's such a rubbish shorthand for Bad Boy. You don't need smoke breaks for people to go outside and talk! This is a trope that hasn't even been common on TV for 30 years! What are you doing?? Stop it! You know that would make his mouth taste bad to kiss, right?

There is also no suggestion that he engages in any kind of substance abuse - not alcohol, not smoking, not drugs, not even coffee! He's just about the healthiest-looking human in the game. He had the body of a gym-rat. My man is STACKED. That is a man who watches his diet! Counts his protein! He cares what goes into his body! You see him request ONE cup of coffee, and he doesn't even drink it!

AND WHILST WE'RE HERE, there is fuck all evidence that he is in any way related to Elijah Kamski. Sure, they are played by the same voice actor. A very skilled voice actor who makes them sound completely different, and he's animated by a team who worked hard to make the characters LOOK really different. They have different skin-tones, face shapes, hair and eye colours, body types and heights! These are not brothers!

Pitching up at my fic in which Elijah Kamski is not tagged saying 'I can't wait to see how you work in Elijah being Gavin's brother!' I'm NOT. I don't LIKE him. He skeeves me out. I will not be woobifying him for plot convenience because billionaire geniuses can solve everything. They can't. He's a canon abusive arsewipe and that IS what billionaires are like. He will be staying far away from all my precious babies!

Like... listen, I can deal with it. Some of my favourite fics commit these crimes. You do you. I have not rocked up to your comments to tell you you shouldn't. Just tag your fanon appropriately and don't show up at my fics expecting it of me. Fanon is NOT canon.

tfw "popular" fanon becomes so embedded in a fandom & discussions within fandom spaces that people just start treating it as the default and all interactions with others are coloured by this interpretation. have you considered that I actually don't subscribe to this take, which is nowhere in the source material? wait nvm, clearly not.

#fanon #fanon-critical

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 days ago

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Lookism Boys - Meeting Your Parents

G/N. Headcanons on what your parents would think. Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

Both are absolutely two sides of the same coin. Either way, your parents will be so charmed by Goo or Jake that they wish they were the ones dating him instead.

Goo is hilarious. In a mean bitchy way, that even though he is laughing at other people rather than with - he's laughing with your parents at other people so this slips pass their radar.

They are caught up with his quips and sharp tongue and honeyed words that they happily go along with this ride, trading numerous inside jokes by the end of the meeting, giggling together like a bunch of school children.

It helps that he's also dressed head to toe in hard to miss designer labels, and brings lavish gifts for them too. No, their affection and approval can't be bought but well, it doesn't hurt to try.

Jake is the son your parents wish they had, insult to their actual sons be damned. Or the person they wish they had met if they were twenty years younger, sexuality be damned.

And yes, Jake would pull out the cheesy lines like (gesturing to your mother) "Y/N, you didn't tell me you had a sister!" and dad jokes to your own dad. He would be so insufferably charming about it that it would inevitably work and win them over in no time at all.

Unlike Goo, so what if Jake's finances are tight right now? And his prospects are a little questionable? He clearly loves you and is a Good Guy. You two are young, he can work that out in due course.

There's a powerful aura emitting from Gun and your parents don't know what to make of it. Is it ok that you're seemingly with this dangerous man? With the unusual eyes and scar between his eyes?

This would have put their backs up more but Gun, to your surprise, is capable of showing exceptional manners. He is super respectful in their presence. Deep bows, good etiquette, and formal honorifics. They can't help but be reassured that if he is this respectful of them, then surely he will be of you.

Gun's demeanour is generally stiff and serious. He's quiet and doesn't talk much, though they don't miss the way he softens when he looks at you. Nor his patience when you revert back to being a sulky child when you're in your parent's presence too long.

They approve, mostly. But will always be a little uneasy around Gun.

At first glance, or first meeting, Samuel is clearly a guy that thinks a lot about himself. Unfortunately it shows to your parents too.

To his credit, his ego and confidence is inflated but the way he treats you is surprisingly tender. And despite the pedestal he sometimes likes to put himself on, he puts you on an even higher pedestal. Which can be both positive and negative. To your parents though, it's good that he obviously treats you well.

Sammy does turn on the charm a little, walking the thin line between flattering and smarmy - a bit like how he is with Eugene. Most of all, your parents are impressed with his prospects (something Jake, unfortunately, lacks).

Excellent career prospects, property, assets, finance. Even if he is a bit up his own ass, at least he can look after you.

Ryuhei has never ever met a partner's parent, and it shows with how tense he is. A complete surprise for you to see your happy-go-lucky puppy so anxious.

He relaxes each time you give him a small smile or squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture.

Your parents, to be honest, don't think much of him. Not to say they think he's bad for you, they just don't form much of an opinion of him during the first meeting.

The second meeting, however: 'Poor guy,' your parents think. He is wrapped around your finger and he's too head over heels to even kick up a fuss whenever you're being unreasonable or bratty.

He tries to charm them, which is a bit hit and miss but it's so so obvious how much he adores you and hangs on to your every word that even they become a bit worried about his well being and you taking advantage of him.

Not that you would... maybe.

#lookism #lookism x reader #goo kim x reader #jake kim x reader #gun park x reader #samuel seo x reader #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #goo kim #jake kim #gun park #samuel seo #ryuhei kuroda #wannaeatramyeon

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dunmeshistash · 2 days ago

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Do you know where the “mithrun is the most grizzed masculine elf take” comes from. All I think about is the changeling thing but no one calls Marcille the most masculine elf for being ripped as an orc compared to Tade. Or that he trains a lot, which is also not an inherent masculine thing. To me Mithrun doesn’t really look different to any other (male) elf we see. Is it from the extra’s or something?

Yes that take comes from the changeling transformations of both Mithrun and Senshi. The joke is the Senshi is the "most femme dwarf" and Mithrun the "most masc elf" in contrast with how they look in their original forms

I do think the joke kinda got out of control in the game of telephone that fandom is, instead of a fun observation of how we might perceive Mithrun more feminine than he is and Senshi more masculine than he is due to our own biases based on their races it got taken way too seriously as "the only true and correct interpretation"

I don't think Mithrun is especially masculine or feminine when it comes to his personality, I understand some people have been peeved by others making him maybe too meek/girly compared to canon but I feel like the response of making him way more aggressive/manly than canon is just as inaccurate and it's kinda upsetting when I see "fandom vs (my interpretation of canon) canon" as if they're any more right for going to the extreme opposite

We don't really know if Mithrun is specially "masculine" for an elf either, the only elf that we know is especially "masc" is Otta, and we only know cause her bio says even elves mistake her for a man (I think for most of us she looks as androgynous as the others)

Here's a post discussing elf gender presentation more in depth if you're interested in the subject but all we know is that Mithrun works out a lot and is very muscular (which signals 'manlyness' for us but might not for elves) there isn't much that point out to him being especially manly or especially feminine compared to other male elves. He also has lost most of his desires and doesn't express his preferences much so I think it's safe to assume he doesn't really pick how he presents himself (clothing and such).

Other than that and being stoic (is that a super manly trait?) Mithrun is pretty average I think. He's also still super cute even as a tallman (as if looking manly would stop you from being cute)

But another trait of him that seem to make people read him as "super manly" it's that sometimes Mithrun is scary and aggressive, I'm not even going into why that's bad (correlating aggressiveness with manliness is uh…. not great….) not even to mention he only acts that way when he's triggered by wanting to take revenge on the demon, otherwise he seems to avoid hurting others.

Related to the "Mithrun is a super manly elf" take I've even seen people argue that drawing him looking too "cute" and small is incorrect (probably just because of his tallman self) but that's how Kui draws him herself.

I don't understand why correct others for drawing him the same way his creator does, he's designed to look this way, there's nothing to "fix" about his original design either (nothing wrong with drawing him in a way that appeals to you more tho, fanart is fanart just don't harass other people)

Anyway just to stress the point that he is very average let's compare him to Lycion and Pattadol

The average height for elves is 155 for males and 150 for females Mithrun is 155cm, Lycion is 170cm and Pattadol is 160cm, they're both taller and have a sturdier looking builds than Mithrun

Kui often draws Pattadol specially with a sturdier build than Mithrun actually

So no he's not the most buff biggest elf ever in any sense (although he IS a muscular elf), and I don't think the changeling transformations are too objective since they're magic. For example Pattadol as a human is pretty average even tho she's big compared to other elves (not to mention Senshi half-foot who has a huge beard that half-foots don't seem to be able to grow)

#Mithrun #dungeon meshi #ask #dungeon meshi races #dunmeshi complaint #long post #longpost #elves #dunmeshi thoughts #Elf gender presentation makes me confused but yes the proof that Mithrun is manly is mostly his tallman transformation as far as I know #and people's biases about that #I think the argument that senshi is more feminine than other dwarves holds more water #since we actually get to see he acts different from other dwarves in general but especially male dwarves

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kyunniebuns · 2 days ago

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˗ˏˋ Entry : 054 - Lovesick! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Isekaing to the world of your favourite protagonist, but nothing is ever a coincidence. ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[tw: Manipulation, Murder, Death, Yandere depictions, Implied assault but not executed, a darker Jinwoo overall. Also Kyunnie lowkey rambling ....]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ He Would Find You No Matter How Long It Takes, And Once He Has You In His Arms— You're Never Leaving] ¡! ❞

You died from an accident in the streets, well, not really an accident. Some drunk bastard was stumbling across the desolate street you normally take to go home— But poor you as that faithful meeting lead to your murder.

The paramedics tried everything they could to save you, but alas, you were dead on arrival.

That's what you suspect atleast. After losing so much blood from the multiple stab wounds of course that would be your death.

Dying was such a cold, cold feeling. It felt terrible. But what were your last thoughts?

You only thought of a single person only: Sung Jinwoo, the protagonist that you were madly in love with.

That man died three times or more if you count regression as a form of death. You thought of what he must have felt in his first death was similar to yours. How his feeble body sprawled on the altar with his leg cut off and his arm mostly torn off— It must have been terrible for Jinwoo.

Back then, you can only speculate. But now? Now you knew what he felt as he dies.

The only regret you have was not finishing the manhwa for the fifth time of the week.

But then you suddenly shot up, and when you did, you were met with a kind smile from a nurse, telling you that you passed out while doing a raid in an E-ranked gate from overexhaustion.

E-rank? Gate? What?

You were livid, feeling absolutely dizzy as you tried to ask the nurse. So you feigned temporary memory loss and asked the nurse what happened and why you're here.

As she had said, you passed out from raiding an E-ranked gate because of fatigue. You yourself, are a hunter, an E-ranked one.

The laughable rank your beloved once had.

You tried to wrap your head around it, tried to make sense of it all that you must be in purgatory, that this was all an illusion after death and the gods just had mercy on you and granted you your truest wish.

You tried to sleep it off, tried to bang your head to get you out of this illusion. But everything was real. You did normal human activities, and every pinch of a needle pricked onto your skin hurt like the way it did when you were alive.

You are alive

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh, you were in a world similar to Jinwoo's.

Jinwoo?

"Hello, are you alright?" A kind voice asks you out of nowhere, pulling you out of your daze. "Ah, I thought you passed out while awake!"

A boyish almost childlike face, pretty and cute with unkept fluffy hair that has grown too much and has a weird sort of mushroom-like appearance. Wide, innocent, puppy-like grey eyes full of wonder and life.

You knew that color of grey, that lovely shade that has placed you in a complete rampage of obsession and love.

"I'm Jinwoo, nice to meet you" He stretches his hand out to you, offering a friendly shake.

You accept his hand, trembling as you do so but he doesn't seem to notice as he shakes your hand so kindly while you shakily state your name to him.

Calloused, his hands were calloused.

He then sits down on the empty spot beside you, chatting you up.

Your heart was pounding like crazy as you two talked, you were for sure about to pass out anytime from the overflowing euphoria filling you up.

You don't know how you survived the conversation. But somehow you did.

And Jinwoo himself even offered that you two should team up as E-ranked hunters.

Ecstatic, of course you were, you were so joyous you jumped in bed and rolled around like a madman.

Jinwoo was here. Your Jinwoo.

Your Jinwoo before his ascension as a monarch, your Jinwoo that is still childish and soft.

You loved teaming up with him.

But something was weird.

Already, he had exceptional knife skills, his expertise with using a dagger was too good. Too uncharacteristic of the Jinwoo you know in his earliest days. Is his puberty coming a bit too early?...

That's just it,

,... Right?

Surely it is.

It's not weird that Jinwoo is extremely flexible and fast, that he is sharp and seemingly has such an advanced spatial awareness, that he easily cuts through the hard skins of various monsters.

...Really.

It's not weird at all.

꒰ .... ꒱

It's another hunting day where you accompany Jinwoo yet again in a raid. But this time he seemed a bit more guarded against the raid team you both had signed in for just to experience a higher ranked gate.

"Stay close to me, yeah?" Jinwoo leans down, smiling gently at you that made you forget the chilling expression he had just a second ago.

"S-sure?" You smile awkwardly, growing bashful at his distance.

Why is he a bit antsy anyway? The team you both signed up for isn't the Hwang.... Hwang dong.... Who?

The team of Hwang Dongsoo's brother? That bald headed bastard's family? Ah... You can't really recall his name.

Dead men don't matter anyway.

The only thing you really remember was how hot he was when he ultimately lost his mind momentarily and became absolutely ruthless.

To this you mourn the lack of psychotic Jinwoo in the manhwa.

Do they not see the potential?

This man has the temper and charisma to pull off a serial killer vibe.

So why not?

Why the hell not?!

"!!!"

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted when Jinwoo suddenly placed him in between you and the approaching hunter who had a displeased look on his face after what he did.

"I'm only trying to check on the little miss" The hunter smiles wryly, but Jinwoo was unmoving.

"Really now?" He remarks, his tone sneering even. "Does that involve you luring us into this isolated part of the dungeon with your team surrounding the exits? Sure."

"Ah you're no fun buddy!~" The hunter laughs, patting his shoulder to try and get Jinwoo to relax. "It's just us here, why not have a little fun? She's a pretty one."

Oh right.

Being a hunter is dangerous.

But what had always been dangerous in the first place?

Being a woman.

Ever since society recovered from the shock of the gates arriving— There is a significant uptake in death counts, crime rates, and missing people mia after entering a gate.

And what is the gender of 70% of those missing people?

Women.

If one wanted to do a crime, the best way to do it is in a gate. Rumours spread that disgusting fiends would lure women with a promise of a hefty sum by a small hunting group.

After that? All the women seemingly disappear.

And with the lack of a body and evidence to imply malpractice in the dungeons— What can the law do?

Nothing.

Dead corpses dont talk.

And as the hand reached out over Jinwoo's shoulder towards you—

It suddenly flew off with a swish

The severed limb took it's sweet time floating on the air before plopping on the floor with a wet splotch.

"...."

Everyones gazes were locked on the motionless hand on the floor before a bloody scream rang out from the C-ranked hunter.

"Y-you!" He sobs, gripping his empty wrist as it sheds a copious amount of blood. "I was nice to you by hiring you useless E-rankers and this is how you repay me?!"

He then turns to the rest of the members who were left frozen, "What the fuck are you bastards doing standing there? GET HIS FUCKING HEAD."

"It's always bastards like you who pull this kind of bullshit off" Jinwoo sighs, as if the whole situation right now is troublesome for him as a dagger materializes into his hand.

It was gleaming a mad crimson, as if the blade itself was made of a bloody moon's fragments.

Kamish's Wrath.

Daggers gifted to him by Thomas Andre as an apology for the trouble Hwang Dongsoo and the overall situation they were on. A symbol of peace between them and a sign of friendship between them.

He isn't supposed to be having those until later.

Unless The Jinwoo in front of you isn't the E-ranked Jinwoo who is slteadily climbing the levels at a rapid fast.

Jinwoo's blade seems like it's merely flying with how fast he is moving. Everytime he moves he just tilts his body a little for them to miss him narrowly.

And while everyone else is screaming in frustration, Jinwoo just throws them a sly smile, as if he is reveling in messing with them.

It was obvious he was teasing them, making them overly frustrated where they want to hit him but can't quite reach him at the way he expertly dodges them narrowly.

And when he's already bored of them?

He slices their limbs one by one and letting them bleed to death on the floor.

By the end of it Jinwoo is standing atop a pool of blood with crimson splatters sliding enticingly down his handsome features.

Whoever said Jinwoo isn't charming even in his baby-faced era must be blind.

Because even in the lack of his significant height, even when his cheeks are a bit chubbier, even if his eyes are a bit rounder and that his build is nothing more than bone and flesh— He has this haunting beauty to him that makes him look like a mischievous fae about to drag you into the abyss he calls his home.

"Do you understand now?" Jinwoo asks, his blank and empty grey eyes looking down on you as he lefts you cheek with his calloused hand. "Why I told you to quit being a hunter before?"

"I-I..." You sputter, unable to find the words from the shock of seeing your beloved murder people live in front of you.

"I'll get a rank evaluation after a month as soon as I fix this blasted body" He said, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're scared, aren't you? If I wasn't here, what could've happen to you?"

"....."

He's right.

What would've happen if Jinwoo isn't here? What would've happen if Jinwoo lets that man's hand go over to you?

The vision of it makes you falter, tears prickling your face as it slowly sunk in— That the only thing awaited you was unspeakable horrors had he not step in.

"Sssh..." He comforts you sweetly, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. "You must have been scared, hm? I know, I know. I took care of it, didn't I? Don't be scared anymore."

You don't have to know the fact that he orchestrated all of this.

That Jinwoo himself is the reason why you died and was brought to this cursed world.

That he was well aware of what the hunters have been pulling off whenever they sign contracts with women.

He just wanted to scare you a little, really.

What better method can he do to make you reliant on him?

To make you extremely dependent on him and paranoid of him not being there?

The world of hunters is a cruel and unforgiving world.

He knows that himself.

Jinwoo isn't blind to any of the darker side of this path you both choose to thread on.

Except that right now his intention is to make you too scared of ever stepping into a gate.

That the thought of ever stepping into one makes you shiver into cold sweats and becoming sick at the mere thought of it.

And if this plan doesn't shake you enough?

Then he'll just do it again.

Shake you to the core, make you have a glimpse of hell and then swoop in the second he sees you frightened enough.

You'll be in his arms, weeping and completely afraid.

And he would drill it himself in your head:

You only need Jinwoo.

Just like right now, where you're too shaken to even process the fact the timeline is all wrong. That somehow the Jinwoo in front of you right now already has two hearts with the beat of two organs in his chest. One heart belongs to him, the other belongs to the late Ashborn who chose him as his heir.

Nothing is making sense right now, but you're stuck sobbing in his arms and seeking for solace and safety.

"We'll have to pretend to be hurt when we go out, hm?" Jinwoo lifts your face up with the palms of his warm hands, his expression hauntingly saintly despite the muddled color of grey in his lovely eyes. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod, sniffling, earning yourself a kiss on the forehead as a reward for your obedience.

"Good girl."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What better way to start off my 2025 with a Lovesick Sung Jinwoo fic? Hahah, my beloved<3. No matter who I put into my extensive list of sweethearts Jinwoo will always be on top of everybody else! I love him it's unhealthy. I might make a lads post after this or a wholesome sylus fic that has been brewing in my mind for a bit? I wanna branch out more when it comes to my fics wwww!!! So aside from Hsr there will be the lads boys. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #ore dake level up na ken #jin woo sung #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x fem reader #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo x reader #yan!sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo fics #sung jinwoo x y/n

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gifsbysimplysonia · 2 days ago

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Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

#wolverine #logan howlett #marvel #fan fiction #feedback #drag queen #trixie mattel #bebe zahara benet #miz cracker #michelle visage #vanessa vanjie mateo #nicole byer #trinity taylor #animations #AND mine

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spidercat2099 · 2 days ago

Text

Nanami single dad au

Fluff-ish, Nanami’s sweet as hell in this

The blond man in the office always kept to himself. He was a hard worker and hardly talked to any of the other coworkers unless it was necessary. That's why, when you asked him out, he was in utter shock. Why would you want to go out with him out of all people? He asked himself.

He didn't say no though. His eyebrows raised and he asked you to clarify that you were actually asking him out.

"It's alright if you don't want to-" You began, but he cut you off quickly.

"No, no." His hands waved you down. "I'm..." He thought for a bit before speaking again. "I'm free Friday night. How does 7:30 sound?" He asked.

"I would like that." You responded, a slight smile tugging on your lips as you were excited he accepted. You were already picking out your clothes and looking for a new makeup look to impress him.

...

You'd been out with Kento for a couple of months already. It seemed like things were going well until he put on a serious face and cleared his throat.

"Miss y/n, I have to be honest with you on something." he began to say.

Your heart began to beat quickly from anticipation. You were worried it would be something bad. "Go ahead." You nod.

"I've enjoyed spending time with you, but it has been selfish of me to keep this going without telling you the truth." It seemed like he felt really guilty as he looked down at his clasped hands on the table. But if he enjoyed time with you, what could be wrong?

"I... I have a kid." He said as he looked up at you through his glasses.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't really expected him to be a father. "A... a kid?" You blink.

"I assume you wouldn't have known that before you even asked me out. I understand it's not a situation any woman would be willing to jump into. So, I wouldn't fault you for deciding to not go out with me again."

You begin to think, was there a sign you missed? Was it obvious? Wait... does he have a wife? You snap out of your thoughts. "And your wife?" you asked, not realizing how blunt you sounded.

His face shot up at the blunt question. "She... she passed away..." He looked away, now having a solemn look on his face. "Like I said, I understand if you don't want to continue-"

"Do you have pictures?" you asked leaning forward a bit. His eyebrows raised in the middle.

"Pictures?" He asked.

"O-Of the kid... how old are they?" His hand hesitantly pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure what this meant.

"His name's Yuji. He's 3 years old. He's a troublemaker but he's a good kid." He looked through his photo app for that album he had of Yuji. You could tell he was proud to have him as he showed you the pictures, telling you the backstory of each.

If you didn't already have a fat crush on this man, you definitely did now. The way he smiled at his kid was too cute.

When he finished showing you the pictures, he set his phone down and sighed. "I... appreciate you being this kind to me. But as I said, I don't expect you to want to jump into this situation. You're a young beautiful girl who I'm sure will find a man who doesn't have someone else's kid. It's a big burden-"

"Kento..." You cut him off. You didn't want to hear him be so somber on his "situation". Especially when you think about how proud he is of his kid and how hard he must work for him.

"I... I like you a lot. You having a kid isn't some kind of burden. We're both adults."

"I know that, I just don't want you to force yourself into a role you're not ready for just because you want to be with me."

"You're not forcing me to do anything." you grab his hand. "I'm deciding I still want to go out with you."

"You... you are?" He seemed touched but also in disbelief. You nod. You always knew how to surprise him. He wanted to believe it. That you were different, maybe that you were even the one that he was meant to be with. You were perfect. That's why he hadn't told you sooner, he wanted to hold on to that fantasy a bit longer. But he knew he still had to be realistic. After all, you could change your mind at any point.

Later that night, he drove you home. He opened the car door for you as you stepped out. He leaned onto the car slightly as he looked at you. "You're a very lovely lady, y/n..."

You smiled, getting closer to him as you adjusted his already neat tie. "And you're a very lovely gentleman, Kento." Your hand then flattened against his chest as your eyes made their way up to his. His head was tilted looking down at you.

Slowly, you came closer and his hand came up to rest on your waist. Your lips slowly join together with his. For a second, you pull back, just to join them again but with a bit more passion. Your hand made its way to the base of his neck as he pulled you closer. It was getting harder to leave it as just a kiss goodbye.

You wanted him. And you wanted him bad. Your breaths mingled together as your heads tilted every so often to deepen the kiss. Hid hand couldn't help but make it's way down your waist, close enough to grab your-

Beep, beep.

His phone rang and he pulled it out. He breathed heavily as he read the message. "That's... the babysitter." He explained before putting it away. "I'm sorry. I have to go." His eyebrows tilted up in the middle, feeling guilty once again for cutting things so short.

You breathe out. "It's... it's alright. Don't worry about it." You step back a bit to allow him to leave. He wasn't sure but he knew it could very well be the last time you both go out, regardless of what you said. You could've just been trying to be nice and just let him down easy later or decided to ghost him. And he didn't like that this was how the night had to end.

...

Things had gone normally for the next few weeks. You'd talk to him whenever you could at work, spend breaks together, and go out on the weekends. It seemed like things were going well.

Then, one day. He saw you at your desk while some guy leaned over it and spoke to you. He looked like he was closer to your age. And he had you laughing.

Kento wasn't a jealous person, but for some reason, he felt a pang in his heart. Like you could be taken from him at any moment and his fantasy would go down the drain. Especially when he though that's what you deserved. A guy your age who you could decide to have a family with.

Instead of walking over to say hi to you like usual, he just passed by to go to his own desk. You hadn't even noticed, since you'd been busy talking to the other guy.

Later in the day, Kento heard your voice call to him. He looked up from his computer to see you standing next to him. "Hey..." He said with a soft smile.

"Hey... I know we usually go out on Friday's but I'll have to cancel today." His heart had that same feeling again. Could it be that you realized you'd be better off without him? That the other guy was better? Maybe you'd decided to go out with him instead.

"Oh..." He said, his eyes looking away from you now. That's the one thing he always looked forward to after work.

"It's not anything serious, I just-" Then your watch began to ring. You had a meeting to go to, just sparing a minute to talk to Kento. "Sorry, I'll talk to you after the shift, okay?" You said as you left.

Kento wanted to tell you he was leaving early. The daycare only had a half day today. Of course, you wouldn't have known that. You don't have a kid, you wouldn't keep track of when schools are open. So he decided to text it to you, seeing as he won't see you that day at all. He'd have to wait until you texted him back, or until Monday to see you again.

But you never did. Not that day. Not the rest of the weekend. Was he right? You were ghosting him? Were you that type of girl?

...

On Sunday, he went to the grocery store with Yuji. It was raining, but they were in desperate need of food. So he just zipped up Yuji in a cute yellow jacket, carrying him in one arm as his other hand carried an umbrella over both of them.

It wasn't anything special as he walked around the store with Youji's hand holding his. Except, he couldn't stop thinking of you and what you were doing. Why you hadn't responded to any of his texts. He'd read a can and slowly get distracted by those thoughts until Yuji pulled on his hand because he got bored of that aisle.

After long enough, he picked up Yuji again, the other hand full of groceries and the umbrella. As he turned he saw... you.

He froze for a second, unsure if it was his imagination. You didn't live on this side of town, why would you be at the grocery store here?

"Papa, are you gonna move?" Yuji asked, poking Kento's face. "Y-Yeah, we'll go home."

When you heard that familiar voice, you looked up. His eyes widened as he realized it was truly you. You were wet, with nothing but a sweater on to protect you from the rain. No umbrella, no jacket. Just the awning of the store you stood under.

"Kento?" You called out. Yuji looked at you too, unsure of what was going on. Why was it so quiet? He just wanted to go home.

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing in your direction. "She's... a friend from work." You weren't fond of that response, but you knew how careful Kento had to be when the relationship hadn't even been established yet.

You were endeared by Yuji. He was even cuter in person. "Oh my God is that Yuji?" you got closer pinching his chubby cheeks gently. "Aren't you the most adorable thing ever?" Yuji definitely enjoyed the attention. He was giggling a lot.

"He likes you..." Kento said as he looked at his son's expression. "What are you doing on this side of town? You don't live near here." He couldn't help but feel curious.

"I left my phone at the office and the boss said I'd only be able to pick it up today. Halfway through walking here, it started to pour, can you believe that?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned.

"Bad luck, huh?" he said, trying to keep it light although he was slightly upset with you.

"Don't get me started." You looked at him with a frustrated expression, but it also felt aimed at him for some reason? But he couldn't tell why you'd be upset with him.

You held your own arms to keep yourself warm again as you turned your body away from him. "My house isn't too far from here, we should get you out of this rain." He moved his umbrella so you'd be under it too.

"Fine." Although you were upset, you couldn't deny you were freezing, and the office was still a long walk from here.

The walk home was quiet and Yuji had fallen asleep in Kento's arm. As he grabbed his key and began to unlock the door, he began to say "I would've invited you here on better circumstances, but-"

"It's fine." You said, not bothering to sweeten up your tone.

He took that as a sign that you were upset and didn't push any further. He led you in. "I'll be back in a second, I'll just go put Yuji down."

You stood by the door, sopping wet. You didn't sit down, as to not wet his couch.

He came back with some clothes in his hand, presumably for you to change into. He chuckled lightly as he looked at your usually perfectly styled hair frizzing up into curls. "Curly hair?" he asked as his hand picked up a strand an grazed it. It was funny to him that you two had been seeing each other for a while and he didn't know until now.

You turn away, your hair falling from his grasp.

"Miss y/n, I can't help but feel you're upset with me."

"Why wouldn't I be upset?" You said as you looked up at him.

"I don't know. You haven't told me. If anything I'm the one who should be upset with you." His own eyebrows furrowed at your hostility.

"Upset with me? You blew me off on Friday." You defend.

"Blew you off? You said you were busy."

"I meant when I was going to explain why I was busy. I waited for you but you didn't show. Next thing I know, the boss tells me you left early and you didn't even bother telling me?"

"I did. I texted you. Several times actually, and you didn't respond to any of them. I understand I told you that you're not obligated to continue going out with me but I had at least expected you to tell me." His eyebrows tilted upward again. You could tell he was just upset but hurt too.

"That's not it at all! I was not ghosting you if that's what you think." You defend quickly.

"You... weren't? Then why didn't you send a text back?" He asked, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"My phone had broken at the office and I wanted to go get it fixed on Friday, that's why I said I couldn't go on the date with you." You explained.

"That's why... you didn't get my message..." He realized. His hand runs through his hair in relief. You hadn't changed your mind.

"Why would you think I'd ghost you?" You asked, crossing your arms. Just a bit shaky from the cold.

"You're freezing, miss y/n. You should go take a shower and change." He lightly guided you to the bathroom.

"Kento, wait. You have to say why you thought that." You turned around to face him when you got into the bathroom. You didn't want him to get away with that. Did he really think you'd do that to him? He thinks you're the type of person to do that after a while of dating?

He sighed putting the clothes on the counter and leaning on the doorframe. "We can discuss it after you shower, okay? I don't want you soaking wet and freezing, you'll catch a cold." His thumb came up to your cheek to lightly caress it. "Please?"

Your cheeks tinged pink and your heart raced. You were still a bit upset but you couldn't help but be touched by him caring for you like that. "Fine," you mumbled, slowly closing the door and starting the shower.

...

You come out of the bathroom, practically swimming in his big clothes. He waited for you on the couch, reading a book in his comfy clothes as well. He looked up at you. "Too big?" He asked, holding back a smile. It was a bit attractive seeing you in his clothes like that.

You scoff, also holding back a smile. "Only cause you're too big." You walked over to sit next to him, not too close. You bit your cheek as you continued to hold your grudge. "So?" You asked, glancing at him. Hinting for him to explain now.

He sighed. "It's not anything against you, y/n. I just... haven't had the best experience with these things. Usually, women run at the first hint of me having a kid. That's why I gave up dating for a while. And when I saw you with that guy, I thought you might've changed your mind..."

You raise an eyebrow. "That guy?" You had to recollect your memories to figure out what he was talking about.

"On Friday. He was by your desk and making you laugh and everything. I thought you realized you'd be better off with someone like him."

"You thought I ditched you for him?" You asked, a bit in disbelief. Sure, maybe a different girl would've but... you were head over heels in love with Kento. Some random guy wasn't gonna change that. "That guy... has nothing on you, Kento." You admit. Your hand reached for his. "I told you, I like you a whole lot..." your eyes move from your hand to his face. "Do I not say it enough?"

"Well..." his ears began to heat up. You said it more than enough. "I just thought since we haven't established anything yet, you'd still look for other options. After all that would be fair."

"Are you looking for other options?" you ask.

He shakes his head slowly.

"The only reason there isn't anything established is because you haven't asked for me to establish it." You explain.

"Would... you want that?" he asked, his hand tightening its grip on yours a bit. You nod in a way that says 'duh'. He was usually a smart man, hell, he was the best employee in the company, but for some reason, he always second-guessed himself with this relationship.

He got up, not saying a word as he left. You were left a bit confused, you weren't sure where he went or if he was coming back.

But he came back quickly. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand and a box. Your eyes were wide. "This was meant for last Friday. Unless you'd like me to wait until next Friday. We're not out or well dressed so maybe it's not the best-"

You cut him off again. "What's that for?" You asked, looking at the things in his hand. He sat down next to you. "I was going to ask if you wanted to... be my girlfriend?" He asked. He placed the flowers on the table and handed you the box. "It's a necklace."

You were in shock. You really missed out on a great proposal just cause your phone broke? "Kento, you're so sweet. Of course, I would."

You placed the necklace next to the flowers, kissing him immediately. "I'll... do it again on Friday..." He said between your kisses. You didn't care. All you cared about was him. "New flowers... dinner... I'll ask again... make it special..."

...

You were nestled into Kento's arm as you both watched a movie. Kento fell asleep first. So he didn't notice when Yuji came out of his room searching for him. He dragged his blanket on the floor as he rubbed his eye.

Without a word, he crawled into the space between you both, nuzzling into Kento as he placed his own blanket on himself. You couldn't help but feel this sweet moment was exactly how your life was meant to be.

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