#x-project

[xprojectrpg]

Happy Valentine's Day from X-Project!

(Clockwise from top: Arthur Centino, Amanda Sefton, Jessica Jones and Warren Worthington III)

Art by @thrakaboom

[tilde44]

Under Mi Sensi (Jungle Spliff) X Project Remix

[slasherfantasy]

Fuck-or-die sex pollen fic, where Ghost insists on being the one to fuck you and help you through the toxin.

The others think it's because he has a thing for you (he does), but only Price really understands why Ghost is volunteering. Because there was a time where Ghost also didn't have a say in whether or not someone was inside him, where his choice was also 'be fucked, or die'.

And at least if it's Ghost fucking you, he can make sure that it's as gentle and kind as you deserve. He can make sure it doesn't hurt, that it feels good, that you're given all the respect and dignity possible. You can't consent right now, but he's going to ensure you aren't traumatized like he was

And if he can do this for you, and be gentle, and kind, it proves that he really hasn't become who Roba wanted him to be, right?

[dblsoul]

wonderlands x fyp

[mal-nourish3d]

she was fake.

but i still felt her warmth.

even if it wasn't real, i would relive this feeling a thousand times more.

~ mal-nourish3d

[mikurinkuwu]

ive seen lots of brazilian miku fanarts so i wanted to draw a chilean miku bc im chilean!! HDJSJDHJSJ

[gofishygo]

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.

[sigh-tofm]

if you wear glasses …

… price

- makes sure you always feel beautiful, especially if you’re just starting out or feel insecure with them on. kisses the bridge of your nose and your forehead. wears his own reading glasses when he’s working on reports or just puttering around the house. sits with you on the veranda, hand in hand, reading quietly while the sun sets. both of you wearing your glasses.

… kyle

- forgets you wear them and sometimes kisses you so fervently that your combined breath fog them up. you giggle as he picks them off your nose and neatly deposits them on a free surface. you continue kissing him and to make it fair, kyle turns off the lights so he too needs to rely mostly on touch the rest of the evening. turns out touch is all either of you need.

… johnny

- has broken them on more than one occasion. he’s cracked the glass and bent the frame, and it has happened both during playful wrestling matches and, uh, intimate wrestling matches. visiting the optician to pick out a new pair becomes a bi-annual afternoon date for you two. johnny always pays and isn’t even ashamed to admit out loud what he’s done while your cheeks heat and you look anywhere but at the optician.

… ghost

- always makes sure they’re clean. once you take them off to sleep, shower or just rub your eyes, he steals them away (sometimes right from your fingers or even nose if you’ve managed to get something on the glass while cooking). first uses an alcohol wipe and then dries them off with a soft linen cloth bought especially for that purpose. does not let you clean them yourself. likes to make your life easier when he can.

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - David Haller/Legion: Following his "healing" at the hands of Radha Dastoor, Haller meets with Quentin concerning his newfound ally's methods.

"Quentin. Thanks for meeting me."

Though the double-barreled shotgun Quentin held was only a psychic construct, as evidenced by the fact it was bright pink and glowed, Sydney's gun safety lessons were ingrained, so Quentin lowered it and set it aside before turning to face his visitor. "Jimothy. You seem . . . different. Did you do something with your hair?"

"No. I went to see Radha a couple days ago." The older man paused, as if struggling to find the right word. Then, seeming to find nothing more accurate, he said, "She cured me."

"Of your crippling need to sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of helping other people who barely appreciate it?"

"No." Haller looked at the target so recently decimated by Quentin's shotgun and raised a hand.

It happened slowly enough that the process was clear to the naked eye. The noise came first: a tortured snapping, like someone slowly bending a two by four. The wooden posts began to splinter as if unseen hands were rending the wood apart from every angle, shredding them into dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of pieces barely bigger than matchsticks. They hung in the air, a latticework of drifting wood, and the X-Man twisted his hand. The particles began to smolder, then swirl. A column of tiny flames swirled into the air like a swarm of fireflies. With a final snap of Haller's fingers the column exploded outward into a shining cloud.

The tattered paper target fluttered to the grass, untouched.

Ash raining around them, Haller turned back to Quentin.

"My other problem."

It was an impressive display, kind of showboaty considering Quentin's own telekinesis was limited to carrying groceries or packing a bowl, though he could appreciate the drama of it all, particularly the final snap.

"Looks like she just replaced mental illness with compulsory destruction of property," he sighed as he dismissed his psychic shotgun in a puff of pink mist. He would have to take to the Danger Room now to practice, and he really did not care to have any X-Man watching over his shoulder. "Not her best work. But a cure's a cure, I guess."

"I didn't ask for one. She didn't even warn me. She just did it." The words were uncharacteristically sharp. Even as he heard it he tried to rein himself in, but it was difficult. His emotions seemed to be closer to the surface, messier, especially the aspects that had previously been delegated to Cyndi and Jack. Haller took a deep breath and tried to choose his next words with care.

"Look," he said, "Radha saw something she thought was ugly, and instead of asking she just changed it. She went into my mind and made me conform to her expectations of what a real person should look like. Like I was just a piece of broken furniture she found on the side of the road that she could refurbish and sell off again." The counselor shook his head. "I know you respect her, and that she seems to have done a lot of good for a lot of people, but if this is how she thinks -- what are the implications for the world she's trying to build?"

Quentin crossed his arms and defiantly glared at Haller. (Just David now? He wondered. This meant Cyndi was gone. Pity.) "Seems to me she healed a lifetime of trauma and intense psychological impairment, which you've spent how many decades trying to treat? And no one else has ever even come close to it, while she did it in the blink of an eye. Painlessly. She found your problem and fixed you, and I bet she didn't even ask for a 'thank you' in return."

"That's the thing. She didn't fix anything. She just got rid of how I dealt with it. DID is a survival mechanism, not a party trick. If Radha had bothered to ask, I'd have told her the others were created to hold experiences and memories so traumatic I almost lost my mind, and that all she did by removing my ability to dissociate was ungate them for me all at once. Now I remember everything. Feel everything. Unfiltered." Haller took a swift step forward that brought him immediately into Quentin's space, staring the younger man dead in the eyes. A small blotch of brown in his left eye was the only remaining trace of his natural heterochromia, but the ice in his tone could have been Jack's.

"Tell me I'm lucky to remember the sound of fat popping while I burned six people alive," Haller whispered. "Tell me I should thank her for the memory of being trapped in every single one of their disintegrating minds as I tore the tendons from their bones. That I owe her for a memory I didn't even know I had: being trapped in the rubble under my guardian's corpse, smelling charred human meat while the flies crawled over us."

He was breathing hard now, and he could feel the telekinesis shivering just beneath his skin -- close. Too close. This wasn't Quentin's fault. Haller turned away and pressed his hands to his face, steadying himself. He took another deep breath. "Sorry," he said, "but those decades of worthless treatment are the only reason I'm still standing here."

[mellowwillowy]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

[patko0]

Putting them all through the lasagna filter🐱

[soapyakships]

a kamiyama mystery is afoot...

[buniix3]

[wondashoever]

POLYSHO BEAAAAAAAAAM

[tojisun]

[head in my hands] i think that older bf! simon gets off at how dependent you are on him. that every waking hour, you seek him out. it makes him thrum with something sinister; his heart heady with something dark.

you don't even notice—that's the best thing.

it was just natural for you to come to him, curling to his side like being beside him alone gives you the courage you need or grants you the peace of your mind.

he pushes your hair away from your face and you turn to him with a shy little smile, cheeks round and lips twitching. you don't ask him but he gives it to you anyway—a kiss on your forehead, because you're his precious love.

so good for him. so needy.

simon adores it. he adores the way you can't live without him; how you've made it so you two would be inseparable. he is your rock, you are his lifeline. sure, you don't know just how deep his greed runs—murky waters, blood dripping from the corners of his lips—but it's not like you had to know, anyway.

all you had to do was to stay close, for him to spoil and cherish. for him to love.

"y'need me so much, don't you doll?" simon asks, crooned words pressed on your fever-hot skin. "can't think without me. can't live without me. such a darlin', y'are."

you keen, breathless, unable to speak past warbled gasps. you feel the slow stretch of his cock as you rise, the glide torturous, hitting every of your sensitive spots, before you sink back down again, stuffed whole, his cockhead breaching into depths you never knew was even possible.

too mu'—!

simon's hands move, jostling you from where you are on his lap. they hook on your waist, dimpling your skin as they sink into your fat. it makes him groan, seeing how full you are against him. how full you are of him. seeing your softness, your tenderness, immortalized in his hold like this—weeping, leaking, cunt gushing—makes him whimper, mind splintering at the overwhelming pleasure.

not enough. s'not enough.

(simon doesn't realize how needy he is of you too.)