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barleyo · 6 months ago

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Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of.

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon.

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood.

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them.

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in."

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life.

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature.

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look.

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside.

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness.

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special.

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements.

What was wrong with you?

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend.

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw.

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here.

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure.

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs.

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty."

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit.

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you."

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up.

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego.

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered.

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights.

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you.

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long.

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

#smutfic #leon s kennedy x reader #cw incest #tw inc*st #dark content #dead dove fic #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you

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nadvs · 4 months ago

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better off (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary after having regretful break-up sex with rafe, you try to move on. but he can’t let you go that easy.

warning toxic relationship

» part one

» masterlist

Gulls squawk in the distance, circling the cloudless afternoon sky as you sit on your family’s docked boat.

Since you arrived at the marina, you haven’t moved, save for the boat’s gentle rocks as it sits on the water. Every so often, you hear chatter from people on their boats around you, but it’s been fairly quiet.

You didn’t come here to go out into the sea. You simply needed a change of scenery. Your bedroom has begun to feel suffocating.

And while it hurts to be alone, it hurts even more to be around people. You’re not yourself since the break-up. Having to keep up conversations reminds you of how much of a stranger you are to yourself now.

Life feels off without Rafe. Blurred.

The pages of the book in your hand are fluttering with the breeze, your pen held tight in your hand. You’ve been trying to focus on reading, but you can’t stop thinking about what happened two nights ago. The last time you saw him.

You regret the break-up sex. It was a relapse that hindered your recovery. He called you insufferable.

But it’s par for the course. He has a knack for making you feel like you’re a burden, a bother, as if you were forcing him into a relationship.

You blink away tears and look down at the words on the page. You had picked up this book about toxic relationships a week ago, but finally started reading it today.

As you expected, what you had with Rafe ticks all the boxes. Distrust. Control. Blame.

And one thing you read that stuck with you is how someone usually stays in a toxic relationship because it doesn’t always feel bad. The person you love isn’t all flaws, all the time.

It’s true. Rafe could be mean, but he had good qualities, too. He was fun. Reliable. Protective. Loyal. Hardworking.

It still wasn’t enough to make up for how cruel he could be. Your eyes travel over the last paragraph you read.

Break the cycle by understanding that this was not your fault. Whatever happened to them to cause their behavior was likely not their fault either, but you must accept that your love can’t break that barrier.

Rafe always hated crying in front of you. He only did it a couple times, muttering that he had to stop being such a pussy. You told him it was okay, but he just got angry at you for trying to console him. As if you were patronizing him.

He treated you the same way when you cried. Not every time, but when he was the reason you were upset, he would tell you to stop whining. That you were sensitive and needed to toughen the fuck up if you were going to be his girl.

It broke you, piece by piece. But if he talked to himself like that whenever he felt weak, of course he’d do it to you, too. Any negative emotion that wasn’t anger was disgusting to him.

You know his upbringing was tumultuous. From what little he told you, his father could be erratic and unreliable with his affection, kind to his son one moment, then clearly favoring his daughter the next.

And you often wondered if that’s why he couldn’t say he loved you very often. Maybe because he considered it a fragile promise.

You sigh to yourself. This is all you’ve been doing; trying to understand a man who can’t possibly love you, not really, because a man who loves you wouldn’t scream at you and call you names.

Break the cycle by understanding that this was not your fault.

You underline the words in red pen. You want this burned into your brain. You couldn’t fix him. It wasn’t on you to. But damn, did you want to.

You pull out your phone to take a photo of this part of the page, the stern of the boat and the dark blue sea and the edge of the dock in the background.

You had intended to just keep it for yourself, but you decide to post it on your story. It feels like a release to share a sentence that has such an impact on you, even though any followers who see it will probably tap through and forget about it in a second.

Plus it’s not like the person you’re relating it to can see it anyway. You removed Rafe from all of your social media and blocked his number. You’ve cut him out of your life.

You look out at the water again, wishing there was something you could do to ease the heaviness that’s flooding your body and wringing your heart out.

It feels like it’s going to hurt forever. It’s a tiring thing, caring about someone who throws you down and then treats you like you chose to fall.

Rafe tried to text you yesterday. We need to meet asap. He meant to make it sound urgent, when really, he just wants to talk about your break-up. It’s a manipulative move, but it’d get your attention.

But the text immediately came up as undelivered. You blocked him. And now that he thinks about it, he’s glad. Those moments of reaching out to you are moments of weakness. And they’re humiliating.

Especially because of what you said the other night. That if there’s any part of him that has a heart, he’ll leave you alone. Of all the things you’ve hurled at him, that had to be one of the worst.

He’s not a heartless asshole. He can act like one, but he’s shown you love time and time again, and you spoke to him as if he never has. It was a stab in the back.

Still, he can’t reign in his need to know whatever he can about you. He felt like such a loser telling Topper to send him whatever you post after you blocked him on everything. At least you didn’t block his friend.

Rafe is sitting on his bed when he sees a screenshot from Topper come through on his phone. Anxiety pricks his skin. Ever since you mentioned that you have someone new now, he’s dreading seeing you with another man, of even seeing a mention of him.

He knows you well. He’s almost certain you lied about having a new boyfriend. But what if you didn’t?

It’s a photo of a book in your lap, your hand holding open the page. He recognizes your family’s boat in the background. You’ve gone out on it together quite a few times.

It’s pathetic how long he looks at your hand in the photo. He’s a wreck, taking pieces of whatever he can to feel put together again, eyes trailing over what little of your body he can see.

You would sometimes put his ring on your finger, looking at him with that bright smile you once had reserved only for him. But that ring is back on his hand now, and the last time it touched you, you called the sex you’d just had a mistake.

Rafe reads the portion you underlined in the book. It makes an ugly mix of pain and anger settle into his core. This has to be about him.

Not your fault. Is that what you really think? That none of this is your fault? That you both crashed and burned all because of him?

He grits his teeth. He was right for what he said the other night. You really do think you’re perfect.

All of your mutual friends know you split up. They’ll piece together that this is about him in a second. There’s no way they won’t. It’s fucking humiliating.

Rafe has no control over his impulses. He never has. That’s why he finds his keys and drives to the marina to find you.

He parks beside your car. His blood is boiling as he rushes down the dock, boats lining the long, uneven boardwalk, but when he spots you, he stops in his tracks.

Your back is to the dock. You’re rubbing your eyes in a way that looks like you’re wiping tears. The book sits beside you.

He’s pissed at you, but seeing you like this makes some of the anger fade.

After coming down from one last cry, you turn to stand and finally go home after hours of sitting and reading. You pick up your book and set to step out onto the dock. And you lock eyes with the man who you’ve done nothing but think about.

Rafe’s mouth opens slightly, but he can’t speak. He closes what little distance remains between you and when he reaches you, his face falls even more once he sees how red your eyes are.

“What are you doing here?” you say.

Your tone is harsh. You look annoyed to see him. It makes anger burn through him all over again.

Rafe steps up onto the edge of the boat, making you shuffle back so he doesn’t bump into you. He towers over you, his eyes hard and cold.

“You think it’s all on me?” he mutters.

“What?” you say.

“That’s what it says, huh?” he says, looking down at the book you’re holding against your chest. “Your stupid little self-help book. Nothing’s your fault.”

“How did…” You look down, shaking your head. He must have found a way to watch your story. And he rushed over here to yell at you about it.

“It’s wrong,” he says. “And the way you’re posting that shit to make me look bad is fucked up.”

“You found out I was here,” you begin, your muscles tense as you stare up at him, “and you came to yell at me over a fucking story? Are you insane?”

“I’m not gonna let you embarass me like that. Delete it.”

“I didn’t do it to embarrass you. I didn’t even mention you,” you mutter sharply. “But you know what?”

You’re spent. You’ve dedicated your day to trying to start your healing process. And you have no more fight left in you.

A stupid post is not worth it. You take out your phone, open your story, and delete it right in front of him.

“There,” you say. You meet his eyes again. “You got what you wanted. Now get out of my way.”

You step to the side to brush past him, but his hand wraps around your forearm. His skin feels so warm and so familiar and so nice and you wish he would stop having this effect on you.

“Rafe,” you say, your tone teetering on whining. “Let me go.”

“You think this is what I wanted?” he says with a humorless laugh.

“What do you want?” you challenge. “To keep fighting with me? Why are you looking at what I post?”

“Why are you posting about me?”

“I already told you, I didn’t even mention you.” You rip your arm out of his grip.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious. Everyone knows we…” He can’t even say broke up out loud. His eyes dart down to the book you’re holding.

“What other bullshit did you read in here, huh?” he mutters. He takes the book out of your hand. Resigned, you let him.

Rafe leafs through the pages, his heart pounding, eyes tracking whatever you’ve underlined.

“You actually spent your money on this?” he scoffs, condescending you.

“You’re such an asshole.”

You consider leaving him here. You can just buy another copy. Spending time with someone so committed to arguing, so committed to making you feel small, is misery.

But then Rafe stops at a page.

He notices a sentence underlined and circled and starred. And he’s prepared to call bullshit on it, simply because you so clearly want to remember it. But when he reads it, he loses some of his composure.

His jaw tightens and he shuts the book, shoving it back towards you. You gaze at him curiously, wondering what he just read that obviously struck him.

“What?” you ask, your guard coming down a little.

The words he just read tumble in his brain. He’s still so angry, still wanting to hit you where it hurts.

“Didn’t work out with the new guy?” he asks.

You swallow hard.

“There’s no new guy. I lied,” you admit. “Just to hurt your feelings. Because that’s what we do, right? We hurt each other on purpose, over and over.”

The relief that washes over Rafe dilutes his anxiety. There’s nobody else.

“And you’re still going to take no blame at all?” he says, eyes fluttering down to the book. “You think it’s normal to lie like that?”

“You bring it out in me,” you retaliate. “And you’re one to talk. Have you ever said sorry to me? Once?”

Rafe always acted like taking any sort of accountability was an admission of worthlessness. As if a sorry was admitting that he’s a bad person.

“Have you?” he asks.

You tense up even more, looking up at him through sad, angry eyes.

“What do I have to be sorry for?” you say.

“For-” His own caught breath interrupts him. He looks away, pissed as hell that his throat is starting to feel scratchy. He can’t cry. “For always making me feel like shit.”

“You always made me feel like shit.”

“See?” He breaths a cynical chuckle. “You don’t even ask how. You just say I did it, too.”

You cross your arms, your book starting to feel heavy in your grip. You hate this feeling, the tinge of powerlessness when he brings up a good point.

“How, then?” you ask begrudgingly.

“You brought up old fights all the time,” he snaps.

“That’s not fair,” you say. “I did that because I never got an apology. Or any sort of closure.”

“Then, talk about it when it happens,” he says. “Don’t bitch about something from a million years ago.”

“I didn’t bitch,” you say sharply. “Don’t use that word.”

“You know I’m right,” he says. “I never knew when you were going to get pissed off. We’d be having fun and then out of fucking nowhere…”

He sighs again and looks down, his hands on his hips.

You want to counter that he was exactly like that. Because he was. He used to fly off the handle with no warning all the time. Maybe he walked on eggshells, but so did you.

You swallow your reflex to fight back. You’re sure it’s all the reading you’ve been doing about taking responsibility. You can admit you’re guilty of what he’s accusing you of.

Throughout your relationship, you’d be having a good time together and out of nowhere, you’d think of an old fight that was left unresolved and reminded him of what an asshole he could be.

Just like that, you can understand a part of his side. You had always thought of him as completely in the wrong. It was perpetually about winning or losing between you two. Black and white.

But maybe it’s gray. Because while you were wondering how someone who was supposed to love you could be so cruel, you were cruel in your own way. And you adored him.

“Talking about it when it happened was impossible. We never resolved anything,” you say. “And that weighed on me. I hated how you never said sorry. But I know I… blindsided you sometimes.”

Rafe blinks a few times, looking at you with a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

You actually admitted to it. He doesn’t feel self-righteous like he thought he would. He feels better than that. Understood, for once.

“But you’d do something shitty and then just expect me to get over it,” you continue. “And if I cried, you made me feel sensitive and crazy for being hurt. But of course I was hurt, Rafe. I loved you.”

He licks his lips, his eyes boring into you, his chest starting to rise and fall faster. He didn’t miss the past tense.

“You don’t anymore,” he says, disbelief and desperation in his voice.

You stare up at him. And you respond honestly.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice wavering.

“How do you not know?” he says tersely.

“Do you love me?” you say. “You never said it.”

“Yeah, I did,” he sighs. “God, you were always so hung up on that. Why did I have to say it all the damn time? I showed it.”

He was always tense about this. It’s hard to actually say the words. And he hates how bad you made him feel for discomfort he couldn’t control.

He never heard it growing up. He never had anyone to say it to. Then, with you, it’s like he was expected to say it every hour.

It made him feel inadequate, every time you pestered him for not saying it. Like he wasn’t enough for you unless he said three words.

“Do you?” you repeat.

There’s a tangled heap of feelings sitting on his chest. He’s torn between wanting to hurt you and wanting to win this argument and wanting to hear you love him and wanting to storm away.

His pride is too fucking heavy. If you won’t say you love him, he’s not saying it to you.

He doesn’t answer. And you realize his eyes are glossy.

“Are you crying?” you ask gently.

Typically, you’d pretend you didn’t notice because he loathes crying in front of you. It embarrasses him. But this isn’t a typical conversation.

“You really think we’re sick together?” he rasps.

You know exactly what part of your book he read now. You read that line over and over again. It’s better to be healthy alone than sick together.

“Yeah,” you say quietly.

Rafe can’t stop the tear that drops onto his cheek. Frustrated, he wipes it away.

“And you can make fun of me for reading books like this all you want,” you say, “but they really do help. I need to be healthy on my own first if I want to be healthy with someone else.”

Something that looks like fear flashes over his face.

“You want to be with someone else?” Rafe asks. “Who?”

You gaze up at him with a cocked head, actually feeling sympathy for his insecurity. He always bordered on hysteria over the idea of you with another man. He always was so sure you’d find someone more suited for you.

“No. Right now, it’s important for me to get better,” you say. “By myself.”

“And what if…” He shakes his head. “What if I get better, too?”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been this whole conversation. Maybe the most vulnerable he’s been with you ever.

You search his handsome, pained face for any indication of this being a cruel joke.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Rafe doesn’t know how to navigate this. You had each other at your worst, but you still fell in love. How happy could you be at your best?

“If I get better, too, are you going to want…” It’s too nerve-wracking to directly ask if you’ll want him. He feels like such a coward.

“You?” you say.

His jaw tenses in discomfort. You exhale shakily.

This doesn’t have to be a test of pride, a game of win or lose like it always was with him. You can be honest. Because you already had to say goodbye to the person who once made you the happiest you’d ever been, so there’s nothing left to lose.

“If we really are better,” you finally say, “yeah. We can try this again. If you want to.”

Rafe knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to touch you so badly that it’s hurting him. This feels too fragile, though. One wrong move could break this sense of amiability you two haven’t had together in ages.

“I want to,” he admits.

For the first time in weeks, hope blooms in your chest. You always thought he was so stubborn. That he didn’t think he had anything wrong with him, and therefore, nothing to fix.

But he’s willing to work on himself. And you are, too. Maybe this isn’t doomed after all.

“We’ll give it a few weeks, okay?” you say softly. “And after, we’ll talk and… see what happens.”

Rafe wants to ask if you’ll unblock him, but he’s opened himself up to enough risk of rejection since this conversation started. He accepts the discomfort of not knowing.

He can only say a tense, “Okay.” And he can’t cry in front of you anymore. And he can’t handle how confusing it is to feel hopeful and angry and sad all at once.

He leaves. Because the only way he can comfortably let out overwhelming emotions is through a fight, and that’s not an option right now.

You watch him go, left to wonder if this is just delaying further heartbreak, or if one day, you actually can be the people you need each other to be.

(part three)

#this really was going to stay a one-shot but i just… um…#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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btssavedmylifeblr · 7 months ago

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Void - Part 9 - Tuesday (M)

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Part 9 / ?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: explicit sexual content, entirely too much discussion about semen, some jealousy, possessiveness and slut-shaming, semi-accidental voyeurism

__________

A rush of cold air against your sweaty skin makes you shiver. It’s much cooler out here in the hallway than in the steamy sleep pod behind you. You leave Jungkook behind in the sleep pod, still getting his clothes back on, but your lingering arousal stays with you.

You’ve barely made it two steps into the hallway when the door across from you opens. Jimin leans against the door frame. Damn, he looks good. He has the sleeves of his dark blue jumpsuit tied around his waist, leaving him in just a loose white t-shirt that rides up his arms as he crosses them.

“Well, good morning to you,” he says. “And what have you been up to this morning?” The smirk on his face makes it clear he knows damn well what you’ve been up to this morning.

“Umm…” You wiggle your hips in discomfort, the remnants of Jungkook sliding between your thighs.

Mercifully, Jimin doesn’t actually make you tell him what you’ve been up to. “Do you have a minute to talk?” he asks, beckoning you to join him in his pod.

Lord, you really don’t want to have an awkward relationship conversation with Jimin with Jungkook’s semen still inside you. You try to brush him off. “I have a lot of work to do this morning, Jimin.”

He snorts. “Seems like you’ve already gotten a lot done.” He lets the statement hang there as he smirks at you again. It’s very annoying how hot he is right now.

The click of the door latch behind you startles you into action. The last thing you want is to be trapped in this narrow hallway with both Jimin and Jungkook. “Yeah, okay,” you say, diving into Jimin’s pod before Jungkook sees you.

“So should I plan on waking up to the sound of you fucking other men every morning or only on Tuesdays?” Jimin asks as he closes the door.

“Well, not on Thursdays.” You are trying to flirtatiously deflect, but irritation flashes across Jimin’s face.

“Yes, well,” he mutters. “I guess I’ll just wait my turn.”

“Hey, you suggested sharing first,” you reply defensively.

“With one man, not six.”

“Why does the number matter?” You’re already carving yourself into pieces to make them all happy, why did it matter how many? “You’ll still get your turn.”

“Bah!”Jimin stomps his foot in frustration. “I’m not some toddler who is bad at sharing a toy! I don’t want to have you just because it’s my turn.” He almost reaches for you again, but drops his hands in defeat. “I want you to want me.”

You sigh. “I do want you, Jimin.” Even first thing in the morning, with his dark hair falling loosely over his forehead, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. How can you explain that you are genuinely and specifically attracted to all of your crew members without sounding like a floozy? “I’ve wanted you ever since I watched that damn video of yours. And long before that too.”

“Really?” He bites his plush lower lip. “How long?”

You fold your arms and lean back against the other side of the pod. Memories come back to you of your space walk training at the bottom of the ICSE pool. Jimin always hated the overly warm training suits and would strip out of them long before reaching the men’s locker room. His sweaty t-shirts would stick to his skin, slightly translucent. It was impossible to keep your eyes off him as he’d laugh with the other guys and brush his hair back off his forehead, indifferent to your presence. “Longer than you’ve wanted me,” you finally answer.

His eyes widen in surprise. “On Earth?” he asks.

You nod. You chastise your past self for ever thinking that your insatiable thirsting for your crew wouldn’t become a problem eventually.

“Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I had no idea.” He steps closer to you. “You were always so closed off.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to want you. Wanting you is highly inconvenient.”

He smiles as he leans in. “But you just can’t help yourself?” He glances down to your lips.

“Oh, don’t look so smug.” You push against his chest as his hands find their way around your waist.

“I’m allowed to be smug.” He rests his forehead against yours. “The hottest woman in the universe wants me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m the only woman in your—“

But his lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, one hand gripping your waist as the other finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

All your arousal that had been simmering just below the surface comes rushing back as his fingers caress your neck and along your jaw. His lips are just the right balance of soft and firm. You moan as he breaks away from your lips to begin kissing down the side of your neck.

“But then how can you only want me on Thursdays?” he asks between kisses. “I want you every day. Mondays. Tuesdays. Wednesdays. All the time. God, I haven’t even bothered to remember what day of the week it is for the last two years and now it’s all I can think about.”

“I obviously don’t only want you on Thursdays.” You gasp as his hand finds your breast over your jumpsuit, closer to the surface then it would normally be since you abandoned your shirt with Jungkook. “I’m just trying to be fair.”

“Fairness is overrated.” He sucks on the junction of your neck and collarbone as you tilt your head back to give him more access. “Shit, are you not wearing a shirt?”

His hand is on your zipper before you can answer, tugging it down to discover the answer for himself. “Good lord,” he mutters, hands caressing your bare sides and breasts. “Where is your shirt?”

“I’m having a bit of a laundry problem.” You run your fingers through his hair, holding tight as he peels down your bra and runs his tongue across your nipple. “Somehow all my clothes are covered in cum.”

He groans out loud at that, sinking to his knees as he kisses down your belly, following the opening in your jumpsuit. “Shit, really? Jungkook?” And then he pauses and looks up at you. “What did he do?”

“You really want to know?” You ask and Jimin nods. You laugh. “It’s more what I did to him.”

“Tell me,” he urges. “And take this off.” He tugs at the bottom of your zipper.

“Made him beg.” You shrug out of the jumpsuit, in your bra and panties once again. Your panties stick to you where Jungkook’s remnants have merged with your own arousal. Jimin’s eyes are glued to them. “Rode him until he came inside me.”

Jimin licks his lips and looks up at you. “Can I see?”

You tilt your head curiously. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “Maybe it will later, but right now, it’s just super hot.”

A whole new rush of heat runs through you as you slide your panties down. This is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done. One man kneeling rapturously in front of you to see you covered in the release of someone else. It’s debauched and it’s glorious. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop this and wait for Jimin’s assigned day, but your logical brain vacated its post the moment Jimin knelt in front of you.

“You do like being messy, don’t you?” He runs a careful finger along your labia and your legs tremble. “Doesn’t matter whose cum it is, does it?”

“Fuck, Jimin, please.” You tug on his hair, needing him to do something, anything.

He gathers a glob on his finger before flicking it to the floor. He stands up and kisses you again, the hand sticky with cum now caressing your cheek. It’s both tender and filthy. And then he’s turning you around to face the wall of the pod. “Bend over.”

Your legs are trembling so hard you have to cling to the wall, but you allow him to guide you down so you’re bent at ninety degrees, hands on the wall, ass out. You hear him strip out of his clothes and then a finger slips inside you.

“God, you’re so wet.” His hands grip your hips as he replaces his finger with his cock. “How many times did he get you off?”

Jimin eases his way into you and the tenderness makes you groan. “He didn’t,” you pant.

“Amateur,’ Jimin scoffs. He reaches around to your front and finds your sensitive clit. The trembling in your legs gets stronger as he begins rolling his hips.

“He wanted to,” you gasp. “Didn’t let him.”

“Don’t even care about your own pleasure, huh? Just want to take all the cock you can?” He pairs the teasing with a firm pressure from both inside and out and you’re shattering around him, unable to deny how much it turns you on to be used by them all.

You hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, how proud he is of himself, as he tightens his grip on your hips and speeds up his pace.

“You’re mine now though. You were mine first and you’ll always be mine. Whenever any of them fuck you, I’ll fuck them out of you. Replace them with me. The only cum you’ll be carrying around inside you is mine.”

He stills, leans over to kiss your back and neck as he fills you up. You can feel his self-satisfied grin against the skin of your back.

He slides out of you, patting your ass as he goes. Your whole body flushes as yet more cum leaks from you. God, you’re a mess. He kneels down behind you and picks up your panties, sliding them back up your legs.

“That’s better,” he says as he slides them up and over your ass, trapping his cum against you.

“Uh, thanks,” you reply, completely at a loss for what to say as a weird cold feeling begins churning in your stomach. You have the sudden worry that Jimin is going to expect every day to go like this, even those that aren’t his. “Gonna go clean up now.”

Jimin grins and kisses your cheek. “See you soon,” he whispers.

______________

And so you find yourself once again attempting to de-sperm yourself in the space toilets. Another tinge of doubt washes over you as you stare at the flimsy compostable toilet paper and contemplate trying to do this every day for the next 12 years. Is that what you’ve committed yourself to? Multiple times a day? Multiple men per day? Surely they will grow bored of you eventually, right? This falls way outside your mission parameters. Maybe you should call this whole thing off.

Despite your best efforts with the toilet paper, you’re still gross and sticky. Your jumpsuit and underwear are gross and sticky too. There’s nothing for it. You need a shower and some clean clothes.

Showers weren’t an everyday luxury on the Minos. You could only manage once or twice a week without outpacing the water reclamation system. Technically you weren’t due for another day or two, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

The showers and the laundry machines sit in the same section of the ship near the water tanks. Before heading there, you jog back to your sleep pod to gather up the rest of your dirty laundry. Jungkook is long gone. Your shirt/make-shift blindfold lies thrown in a corner. As you gather up your scattered clothes, the stink of your laundry makes another way of regret wash over you. You were only one and half days into your new plan and all your clothes are covered in bodily fluids. This is exhausting.

The laundry machines and showers also happen to sit right next to Yoongi’s workshop and you can’t help wondering about him as you walk in that direction. You haven’t seen him since your striptease in the kitchen.

“Okay, I’m in,” he had sent you. It betrayed so very little of what he’s thinking. And the question of what exactly he wants from you is still unanswered. But at least he has admitted to wanting you. Your stride slows as you pass his workshop, scanning with your peripheral vision while trying to look like you aren’t checking to see if he’s in there.

But the workshop is dark and empty. Whatever his feelings for you, they will remain a mystery for now.

God, what is the matter with you? You’ve already fucked two men this morning and here you are pining for a third. That can’t be normal, can it? The ICSE really fucked up when they decided to send the world’s horniest woman on this mission.

You continue to chastise yourself as you load your laundry into the machines. The laundry machines sit in a vestibule just outside the showers with a door to the hallway that locks, so you are able to strip off the clothes you are wearing now as well and run them through the laundry while you shower. Removing your wet underwear makes you cringe. How have you managed to go from “first woman to pass the orbit of Mars” to “woman with two different men’s semen in her underwear”?

You’re so preoccupied with your self-slut-shaming that you don’t hear the water running behind the shower door. The door was unlocked and there weren’t any clothes in the machines, so you just assumed the shower was empty. But you are wrong.

Flight Engineer Min Yoongi is standing in the shower completely naked and dripping wet. His back is to you as he washes his face. His long dark hair runs down over his shoulders. When did his hair get so long?

He doesn’t see you, face still covered in soap, but turns his head as the door clicks open. “Hey! Occupied!” he calls out.

“Oh shit!” you curse, backing up. Shit. You’re naked too. Shit. All your clothes are in the washing machine and must be soaking wet by now. You attempt to cover yourself with your hands as you debate how to get out of here.

“Oh, is that you, Officer?” he chuckles, wiping the soap and water from his eyes before turning to greet you, smirk on his face. “I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until Friday. Come to get a sneak peek?”

Your face is on fire, you are so embarrassed. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

He looks totally calm, running his gaze up and down you luxuriously. “No worries. We are in a ‘consensual sexual relationship’ now, aren’t we? Or should I be hiding my dick from you Saturday to Thursday?”

His demeanor is infuriating and you feel so foolish. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

He shrugs. “Tuesdays are my shower day. No one is ever here but me.” He looks you up and down again and there is really no hiding anything from him. “The real question is what are you doing here?”

Shit. How do you get out of this conversation? “I, umm, needed a shower.”

He laughs, turns off the water and shakes his head, long hair sending drops of water flying around the sealed room. “You know this plan of yours is gonna fuck with our whole shower schedule, right?”

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as he wraps his hand around his hair and pulls it up into a bun behind his head.

“When did your hair get so long?” Your voice is higher pitched than normal and you grimace.

“Oh yeah…” He tucks one of the shorter loose strands behind his ear. “It’s been getting in my way. I was going to ask if you might have time to cut it on Friday.” He pulls a towel from the wall behind him and wraps it around his waist.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you rush out, heart skipping a beat at the allusion to your day with him.

“Oh.” He frowns. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“No, I just mean, don’t cut it.” You giggle nervously. “I just mean, uh, it looks good. As is.”

“Aha.” He grins and you watch a water drop glide from his jaw down his throat. “Well, in that case, I imagine there are more enjoyable things we could be doing…” He walks closer, and reaches toward you as your heart races. You close your eyes and give up trying to cover yourself as his warm wet body comes right into your personal space. “On Friday,” he finishes, reaching the door handle behind you and popping it open.

God, you hate him. “Um, yeah, sounds good,” you mutter as you dive out of his way.

“Looking forward to it,” he replies, eyes dark with intention, before heading out the door. “Enjoy your shower, Officer.”

______________

A shower has you feeling much more like yourself again. But when you get to the kitchen for breakfast, you nearly walk right back out when you see who’s gathered around the table.

Jin, Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung are all sitting at the table, munching on their breakfasts. The prospect of sitting next to three different men you’ve watched orgasm in the last 24 hours makes the idea of eating feel entirely impossible. Not to mention the very hot man you are just pretending to sleep with. How has your life gotten this messy?

You are about to flee down the hallway when Jin looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

“Good morning!” Jin greets you and suddenly all four men’s eyes are on you. “Come sit with us!” He pats the chair next to him. “Taehyung made scorched rice.”

Your brain helpfully chooses this moment to remind you that the last time you saw Jin, you came on his face.

Taehyung nods enthusiastically and mumbles through a mouthful of rice. “There’s plenty left.” He swallows and gestures to the pot on the cooktop.

Jungkook springs up from his seat. “I’ll get you some!” He pulls out the chair between him and Jimin, not the one Jin was suggesting. “Have a seat.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, but I need some coffee too.”

“I’ll get it!” Jimin pops up too. “You rest.” He also clearly gestures at the seat that would put you next to him and Jungkook. Jin frowns slightly, while Taehyung bites back a laugh.

“Oh, okay…” You run out of objections and sit down at the table while Jungkook and Jimin run to bring you breakfast. “This really isn’t necessary,” you mumble, but they’re not listening.

Jungkook returns first with a bowl of stew and a plate of scorched rice for you and then sits down next to you. The memory of him on his knees begging to touch you flashes across your mind.

You take a bite of your food as the other men at the table resume eating. Jimin returns a minute later with your coffee. You take a sip and grimace at the too sweet concoction. Jimin still doesn't know how you take your coffee.

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks.

You swallow it down. “No, it’s fine. Thank you.”

There’s a few moments of silence while everyone eats, before Jin nudges Jungkook with his elbow. “Seems like someone got a pretty early start this morning, huh?” he says teasingly.

“Jin!” you gasp as Jungkook chokes on his food. “You can’t just say things like that!” You pat Jungkook on the back to make sure he doesn’t die.

“What?” Jin shrugs. “Isn’t everything supposed to be out in the open now?”

“Mmm,” Taehyung nods, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he laughs. “Like the bonobos.”

“Fucking bonobos.” Jimin groans.

“It seems more awkward not to talk about it.” Jin continues. “We all heard him in there. Why pretend otherwise?”

Jungkook finally manages to swallow. “You heard us?”

“The walls aren’t thick,” Jin laughs. “Impressive that you can go two rounds that early in the morning. Ah, to be young.”

“Two rounds?” Jungkook frowns in confusion. Your entire face feels like it will melt off. Jimin says nothing, but his hand finds your knee under the table next to him and squeezes it.

“Speaking of,” Taehyung interrupts. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”

“We can take you on dates?” Jungkook asks.

“Um yeah, sure.” You answer both questions at once. “Though it’s not like there’s really anywhere to go.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Taehyung nods smugly.

“Can I take you on a date today?” Jungkook interjects. “Or do you only get one shot per day?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I didn’t really make rules that specific.”

Jimin’s thumb traces small circles around your knee and it’s a reminder that you’re not really sticking to even the limited rules you set out in the first place. Seven men is entirely too many men.

The conversation is mercifully interrupted by a shipwide message on your tablets. It’s from the commander.

“A reminder to all crew members that any activities of an intimate nature are to be conducted in the privacy of the sleep pods. They are not appropriate for the public areas of the ship, which are monitored and recorded.”

The choice to put this in a written communication rather than an in-person conversation is surprisingly passive aggressive for Namjoon.

Taehyung looks at you. “What did you do?”

“She took all her clothes off in the kitchen!” Jin laughs.

“Excuse you! I covered the camera! You’re the one who ran me ass-first into our commanding officer!”

Jin sighs in delight. “Man, you should have seen his face.”

Jimin’s hand slides further up your leg and you’ve had enough. “Thank you all so much for breakfast, but Hoseok must need me in the lab by now.” You gather the remainder of your breakfast into your arms and back out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.” You’re not even sure which man you’re talking to. All of them really. There’s no escape. You will see all of them later.

____________

For all your attraction to Hoseok and disappointment that he hasn’t signed your form yet, at the moment, you are a bit relieved. Hoseok puts on another science podcast and the two of you settle into your work for the day, safe in the knowledge that no one will come to proposition you.

Or so you think until the end of the day, when Jungkook shows up at the lab door with a large plastic storage bin under one arm. Hoseok spots him first.

“Hey, JK, what’s up?” he asks. “Do you have more samples for us?” He gestures to the box under Jungkook’s arm.

“Oh, no.” Jungkook swallows, glancing down at the box. “It’s actually food.”

“Food?” Hoseok asks.

Jungkook steps farther into the lab. “I was hoping to treat our biologist to a dinner date.”

“Oh!” You and Hoseok are surprised in unison.

“So you two are dating now?” Hoseok asks, looking back and forth between the two of you with raised eyebrows. “I thought this whole thing was just...”

He trails off without saying the rest of the thought out loud and a frown line appears between his eyebrows.

“I’m not really clear on myself.” Jungkook takes this as an invitation to put the bin down on the lab counter and turn to you. “What are the rules exactly? Are we dating? Are we dating all the time or only on Tuesdays? Is it time-bound and when does it end? Does it end at midnight or can we fall asleep together? Can I hold your hand? Can I kiss you? Can I only kiss you on Tuesdays?”

Hoseok’s frown deepens and you rush to cut off Jungkook’s torrent of questions. “It’s not dating,” you try to explain. “We’re not…It’s not a relationship. I’m just trying to help people fill the void of what they’re missing from Earth. Like if they miss dates, we can have dates.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything?” Hoseok asks and you are totally stumped for what he wants the answer to that question to be. “You’re just pretending to be together one day a week?”

“It’s not personal…” you reply, glancing back and forth between the two men, unsure which one you should be reassuring right now.

But how could it be personal when you’re the only option? Like obviously they wouldn’t be choosing to date you on Earth. None of them chose you at all. They just miss sex and relationships and you can help them with that. But you can’t let yourself pretend it’s real. Or that it’s about you.

“Nevermind.” Hoseok begins packing up his stuff. “It’s none of my business. I’ll leave you to your date.” The word “date” has a sarcastic bite to it that is unusual to hear in Hoseok’s voice. The temperature of the room seems to drop as he slings his supply bag over his shoulder and leaves.

Jungkook turns away from you and busies himself unpacking food from his box onto the counter. His shoulders are a bit slumped and you really wish you could have talked to him alone. “It’s nothing fancy,” he mutters. “Just some sandwiches and drinks.”

You walk over and rest your hand on his shoulder. “That’s really thoughtful, Jungkook, thank you.” He freezes for a moment when you rest your hand on his back, then sighs and leans into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rub his back. He tilts his neck back and forth and groans in a pleased way. “We can hold hands. If you want. And you can kiss me.”

That’s all the greenlight Jungkook needs as he spins around and pulls you into his arms, He gives you a hungry kiss, then pulls back. “God, I would love you seven days a week if you’d let me.”

“I know, Jungkook.” A real tinge of sadness creeps into the edges of your mind. You can imagine a world in which it’s just you and Jungkook, passing the time to Europa in an endless string of orgasms and increasingly athletic sexual positions on every surface of the ship as he finds new ways to get you off. You hear Yoongi’s voice chastising you again. Nobody actually gets what they want.

But your regrets quickly melt away the more you kiss him. His kisses are full of fire and desperation. If anything, he seems even more eager than he was this morning. The memory of him kneeling before you, begging to be inside you, is intoxicating.

“I owe you an orgasm,” he murmurs between kisses.

You can get on board with that plan. “Maybe we skip dinner,” you say as you start steering him toward the door.

He finds your zipper. “Aww, but I worked so hard. I can get you off and we can still have time for dinner.”

Your hand stops his from pulling down the zipper any further. “Jungkook, this is the lab.”

“So?” Jungkook is too focused on running his hands up and down your hips and ass over your clothes.

“So…” you grab his hands to get his focus back on your face. “Namjoon said sleep pods only.”

There is more to it than that. Something about the lab feels particularly like a betrayal. But it’s hard to put into words.

“Oh come on, he just doesn’t want us on the cameras.” He starts guiding you by your hips toward the lab bench in the corner next to the door. “But I know where all the camera blindspots are.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just let me show you.” Continuing to kiss you, he slowly backs you up into the wall just to the right of the door. He leans his forearms on the wall above you, caging you against the wall in between the door and the lab counter. “Pull out your tablet,” he commands.

The camera feed of the lab visible on your tablet appears to show an empty room. “See,” he says, kissing your neck. “No one here. Nothing to see.”

He picks you up and sets your ass on the edge of the lab bench. You like being manhandled by him more than you care to admit. He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. “And this gets you to just the right height…” And then he’s dropping to his knees again.

“I don’t know…” Your position up on the counter allows you to see out the window in the center of the lab door and out into the hallway. “What if someone sees us?” You want to sound concerned, but honestly the idea has you squeezing your legs together enthusiastically at the risk.

“They can’t see us from the main hall. They’d have to be coming into the lab.” Jungkook’s hand cups your jaw and turns your face back down to him. “Watch me.”

God, he’s so hot. Muscular hands and large eyes fixed entirely on you.

“Okay, okay, but be quick about it.” You shuck your jumpsuit and underwear down your legs.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He starts tracing little circles with his fingers up one thigh and trailing soft kisses up the other. “You remember when you were cutting my hair?”

“Yes….” you groan as his fingers reach the very top of your thigh, just short of where you really want them.

“And you were pulling my hair and using it to get my head in just the right position?”

You nod, ability to speak temporarily suspended as his mouth reaches the tender skin where your thigh meets your hip.

“Well this is all I’ve been dreaming about since then. So feel free to hold on.” He scoots even closer on his knees, resting your legs on his shoulders and guiding your hands to his hair.

You weave your hands through his soft dark hair and he groans. Arousal floods through you at the sound, your body responding in kind to how turned on he is. And then he dives in.

He starts slow, but firm, no hesitation. Long slow strokes of his tongue around your clit, holding a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “How are you perfect at this too?”

He chuckles, so self-satisfied. “I’m a fast learner. Now will you relax and stop thinking?”

And you give yourself permission to let your guard down. To close your eyes. To relax into the sensations, the pleasure, the slow steady build. You’re so wet and open you barely notice when he slides a finger inside you, but you do jolt forward when he matches that steady pressure on your clit with internal pressure from his finger. It’s so good, you moan out loud and grip his head tighter.

Your eyes remain tightly shut, but you can hear his grin as he groans. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” The pride in his voice, the pleasure, it’s irresistible.

And the pleasure builds and builds until it is overwhelming, almost beyond what you can tolerate, hands clenched in his hair for dear life, unsure if you’re trying to pull him off or press him in further. But the stubborn man holds his position, even as your hips buck against his face. “Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

And you’re breaking, shattering into pieces under his tongue and clenching hard around his fingers.

“Ugh…” you groan, leaning your head back on the lab cabinet behind you. Your breathing slows as you calm down, fingers still tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you open your eyes.

There’s a face in front of yours when you open your eyes. His eyes are so dark that it takes you longer than it should to realize that they're not Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook is still down on his knees as you process that the other man is standing in the hallway, watching you through the window.

“Shit,” you gasp, yanking Jungkook away from you. “Hoseok…”

How long has he been there? How much did he see? Was he watching you? His gaze flicks up from where he’s been staring at the connection between you and Jungkook and meets your eyes. The intensity there is so overwhelming that it’s hard for you to make sense of it. Is it anger? Lust? Disgust? Then his eyes go wide as he realizes you see him and he disappears from view.

“Not exactly the name I was hoping you’d yell when you climaxed on my face…” Jungkook grumbles as he stands up and wipes his face on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Shit, sorry,” You reply as you frantically fight to get your clothes back on. “He was here, he saw us. I have to go.”

“But…” Jungkook gestures across the lab. “I brought dinner.”

“Sorry,” is all you can manage before you race out into the hallway.

“Hoseok!” you yell as you run down the corridor. “Hoseok, come back!”

He’s not in the kitchen. He’s not on the bridge. “Officer Jung, report your location,” you try on your radio, but receive only silence.

You are panting by the time you reach the sleep pods. The door to his is closed. “Hoseok!” you shout as you bang on the door. “Hoseok!”

You hear shuffling around inside the sleep pod and know he’s in there. “Hoseok!” you yell, almost on the verge of tears. “Hoseok, please talk to me.”

The door opens just a crack, not enough to see him. “Please, Hoseok, I need to talk to you,” you plead.

“I… I… can’t.” he stammers. “I can’t right now. Please. Just… just go away.”

Your stomach is full of lead as you shuffle into your own sleep pod next door and rest your head and arms against the wall, desperately trying to catch your breath.

He hates you. You disgust him. You’ve betrayed everything you stand for. You’ll never be able to work in the lab again.

A small knock on the door interrupts your thought spiral.

“Hoseok?” you ask optimistically, scrambling to get up.

“No, Jungkook again.” The hot ball of shame in your guts glows even brighter.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, I can’t right now…” If you see anyone else, you’re going to cry.

“I have dinner for you.”

“I’m sorry.” The idea of eating anything right now feels entirely impossible. “I’m not… I’m not hungry.”

A long exhale comes from the other side of the door. “Okay, goodnight.”

You collapse to the floor of your sleep pod as the weight of all your shame and guilt and irresponsible choices crashes down upon you.

_____

Part 10

#jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #void #btssavedmylifeblr

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just-a-creep-babe · 30 days ago

Note

Are your requests still open? I'm not sure about your time zone so I hope it's ok if I ask how would you think relationships with the creeps would be realistically? Like how would Jeff, Masky, Ej, and Ben act if they were real and actually interested enough to date someone? I was just interested in your interpretation since I really enjoy how you write them! ✨

I feel like I’ve maybe gone over a few of these points before but I can’t remember for certain 😬

Either way, I hope none of these were too repetitive!! And tysm!! 🥰🫶

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

It’s no secret this guy’s crazy egotistical

So as soon as he sees someone he’s interested in, it's like he just needs to have them

They’re an ego boost; a prized trophy that further proves he’s better than everyone else

He almost doesn’t see them as a full person, but more of a commodity

Really, it doesn’t matter whether or not they want the relationship—as far as he’s concerned, he knows what’s best for them

And, coincidentally, what's best for them is him

He's a super controlling partner

Literally the embodiment of your body, my choice

Part of him expects his s/o to pliantly conform themselves to his every whim and desire

But the other part secretly thinks it’s super hot when they talk back to him

He's always liked the feisty ones, and it gives him the perfect excuse to put them back in their place~

In terms of emotional intimacy, his partner really shouldn't expect much

Jeff mentally blocks all of that kind of stuff out, and he thinks people who are open about it are weak

At best, he'll ignore his partner's efforts to connect with him on a deeper level

And at worst, he'll belittle them and use their vulnerabilities against them as a manipulation tactic

So it's overall best to keep some amount of emotional distance from him, in all honesty

The plus side to dating Jeff is that he's super protective

To the point of it being suffocating, so it isn't all that much of a positive, but I digress

Since he sees his partner as his possession, and since he's very protective of his things, he'll be damn sure nothing bad happens to them

And everyone better damn well know that they're off-limits or he will remind them by carving it into their skin

At the end of the day, Jeff primarily wants sex, first and foremost

And secondly, he wants someone that'll inflate his ego; either by being a pretty piece of eye candy by his side or by constantly gushing over him and blowing smoke up his ass

Deep down, he does want someone to care for him—someone he could love and trust, and who would protect him as much as he'll protect them—but he's way too emotionally damaged to even admit he wants that

He definitely doesn't make it easy to love him

BEN Drowned

Honestly, a relationship with him would be relatively chill

All he really wants is someone to fuck and hang out and game with

He does have a dark side, which manifests as possessive/obsessive behaviors and manipulative tendencies, and a good dose of neediness to top it all off

But it's to be expected

And, really, if his s/o just behaves and gives him all of their love and attention, then it's not like they have anything to worry about, anyway

As long as they game with him every night for at least 3 hours, have sex with him a minimum of 4 times a week, answer his texts within 10 minutes, and never spend more time with someone else, then everything's fine

He's prone to spying on them through their devices, especially if they don't do the above-mentioned things to his liking

And he'll use anything in his arsenal to ensure that they stay wrapped around his little finger

Like I said, super needy and manipulative

He'll fuck with their self-esteem, their worldview, their perception of the people around them until they can't imagine living without him

He'll become their world; he wants their life to revolve around him and him only

And if things don't go his way, it'll only get worse

Much worse

He's not above eliminating anyone he's jealous of, or even isolating his partner until they don't have a choice but to accept him back into their lives

He will fully turn psycho if he, for whatever reason, thinks that he might be losing his partner

But until that time comes, until the relationship reaches that point, it'll all be smooth sailing

He's smart enough to know just the right amount to push things to keep the relationship afloat for as long as possible

Which, despite being one of the chillest partners on a surface level, quickly makes him one of the most dangerous ones when things go south

He'll stop at nothing to keep the person he likes

And his partner will never be any the wiser of the darkness that lurks behind his easy-going intentions

They better hope they never reach the tipping point that reveals his true nature

Eyeless Jack

He's actually the chillest creep to be in a relationship with

Unlike the others, Jack firmly clings to those remaining scraps of humanity within him

If he hadn't been transformed, he'd be a perfectly fine and well-adjusted member of society

So a relationship with him would be like, well, any other relationship with a normal person

He has his emotional hangups here and there, and he isn't perfect; he struggles with communicating his feelings and intentions, and he can close himself off when he's following down

But that's par for the course as far as relationship difficulties go

The biggest issue that'll come up that probably doesn't have a Buzzfeed article to help you out is dealing with his demonic side

But even then, he's gotten fairly good at controlling himself, so it'll never be too disruptive—as long as his partner keeps an open mind about the whole thing

He'll be more possessive, and he'll get jealous more easily, but he'll never lash out at his partner because of it

If anything, if he smells someone on his partner, he'll just want to scent them—so all he needs is some physical contact to reassure him

He can get insecure about his nature from time to time, but again, a bit of reassurance goes a long way

Honestly, the most dangerous thing about dating Jack is probably his urge to mark his partner

Marking a human has a few... complications, to say the least

He's naturally bound to get more possessive and much more sexually needy, which could lead him to injure his partner

But, you know, that's just part of the risks that come with dating a demon hybrid

A relationship with Jack has its ups and downs, which honestly might get more intense than a regular human relationship, but even then, a lot of humans are far crazier than Jack, even despite his nature

Even though he deals with some pretty powerful entities, he'll make sure his s/o is safe at all times—no one will ever be able to hurt them

And even though he's a cannibal, he'd probably be too protective of them to take a nibble out of them

Like, sure, he'd love to taste them—and he'd be willing to bet they taste divine—but even if they'd be open to trying it, he wouldn't want to risk it

Overall? 10/10, can not recommend dating this man enough

Masky

Masky's very hot and cold in a relationship

The stress of work combined with the physical and mental strain of being in Slender's proximity all the time does not make things easy for him

He's prone to lashing out, closing himself off, abusing whatever substance he can get his hands on, and generally spiraling out of control

Which does not make it easy for his s/o

Since Slender took an interest in him when he was still fairly young, he's almost always had symptoms of the Slender Sickness, so he's not super experienced with long-term relationships

Meaning that alongside dealing with his mood swings, his partner will also have to guide him through the ups and downs of dating

Which is just a whole extra set of difficulties his s/o will have to face

Being in a relationship with Masky really isn't easy

But the thing is, when things are good with him, they're really good

It's like he only knows how to operate on extremes; his lows are incredibly low and his highs are intoxicatingly high

When he's on a high, he'll make his partner feel like they're on top of the world

Nothing can get in the way of pleasing his partner; not time or money or even the boundaries of the law

He'll shower them with attention and affection, he'll take them on once-in-a-lifetime experiences—he'll make them feel truly heard and loved

Their connection will be like none other; he'll make them feel like they've conquered the world together

But when he's on a down, honestly, his partner might just be better off ignoring him until he gets better again

Which could take weeks or even months

But ultimately the distance will likely be better than being around him when he's going through it

Because although he isn't proud of it, he may get violent and even abusive without necessarily meaning to

And once he snaps himself out of it, he'll be upset to the point where it'll make him spiral even lower

And once he's over it, he'll be right back to gift and love-bombing them all over again because it's his way of apologizing and making sure he won't lose them

As great as things could be with him, and as addictive as he might get, his partner should keep some kind of distance from him—for their own sake

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #masky #ben drowned

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htchnr · 8 months ago

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♰ thanks sugar ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

PAIRING ➻ southern bounty hunter!reader x Cooper Howard.

CW ➻ mention of drugs ⋆ alcohol consumption ⋆ fallout typical violence ⋆ reader sustains a bad injury ⋆ but it's not too explicitly described ⋆ mention of stitching up said injury ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

SUMMARY ➻ "Can i request a bounty hunter reader who is always one step ahead of Cooper and he’s fed up with her? Then the reader is in a deadly situation and he decides to rescue her, because even if he’s fed up that she’s always one step ahead of him, he respects her for that." requested by the lovely @likoplays WC ➻ 2,8K.

he didn't know quite what to feel the first time he encountered you..

his hairless brows furrow the moment he lays eyes on you — his bounty, dead, beneath your boot. you look up from the body beneath you, and smile. a disgustingly sweet smile on your shockingly soft looking lips. “heya sugar,” you grin, “it appears you jus’ missed this fella here,” your tone confident and ever so slightly out of breath from the fight he had missed.

he huffs frustratedly, and when his harsh eyes drag down your form the pieces fit together in his head. so you’re the cowgirl bounty hunter that’s been cashing in his bounties.

he can see it now, why’d people mistake him for you sometimes if they can’t see his face — your body clad in tough jeans and a layer of belts draped across your hips. a worn down cowboy hat atop your head with a bullet hole going through the rim on the right side. he could spot a peak of some leather vest and a worn shirt sticking out from it and atop it all a tattered worn duster draped over your shoulders.

huh, he thought to himself. just that, a contemplative ‘huh’. the conversation that followed was less harsh then he thought it’d be now that he can put a face to your name. he still made his points very clear though.

by the third time the pair of you cross paths he’s gotten used to your honey sweet drawl and even sweeter smiles. he wondered since the day he met you why you always smiled so bright, given the world you live in and the job you do.

the bar smells like spilled liquor and blood, the air is sticky and stuffy in the summer’s heat. the people in it probably smell worse, but he’s thankful he’s can’t smell most of it.

the oh so familiar “heya sugar,” sounds from across the bar in Filly. he looked over and saw you sitting a few stools down from him, sipping on something dark. he huffs and nods in your direction before returning his attention to the bourbon in his dirty glass.

he listens to your stool creak and groan before the thuds of your boots follow you to the stool beside him. “any good contracts on the horizon?” you tease with a grin.

he looks up from his glass, watching you down the remainder of yours. his dark eyes follow a stray drop that drips past your lips and down your chin before you catch it with a finger, dipping the finger between your lips to suck up the liquid. he sighs and downs his own glass, wishing he could feel the burn as the alcohol trickled down.

“well, wouldn't you like to know, hm?” he drawls, his eyes slightly squinting at you. he knows damn well that you know what’s on his horizon. seeing as you’ve probably got the same bounties on yours.

you sigh, swirling a stray drop of liquor in your glass around. “you ain’t bein’ fun,” you huff as you tip back your glass to catch that last drop on your tongue. you stretch your shoulders, groaning in the process before shrugging your duster back over your shoulders.

you nod at the bartender and hand him a few caps, thanking him with that same sickly sweet smile before standing up. you turn back to him, tightening your holster belt. “well, i’ll be seein’ you stud.” you tip your hat to him before walking out the bar and into the fresh air.

he hasn't seen you in a while, he thinks to himself, while he walks along the tracks of his latest bounty — some guy who had plundered a large settlement. who in turn wanted the man alive, so they could convict him or some shit. they were paying a hefty heap of caps for the man, and that was all that mattered.

the trail started to head in the direction of the Super Duper Mart he frequents for RadAway, to his surprise. maybe the bounty needs a patch up or some chems, who knows. if the tracks lead there, he might as well pick up some more vials of RadAway, more could never hurt.

the tracks indeed lead to the front doors of the Super Duper Mart, though are soon joined by a second pair, one he’s grown to recognise anywhere. he groans, head dropping back in frustration. he was starting to get a little low on caps and would really fucking like a job to turn out in his favor before he has to turn to the ones he’ll hate doing.

he rummages through his saddlebags, looking for things he could offer in return, when he hears a loud slam against the window on the right side of the building. he knew what went down there, and this kind of commotion was not uncommon, but definitely relatively unusual. he ignores the sounds as his hand touches some Jet, that’ll have to do for now, he thinks to himself.

he grabs the handful of Jet, hitting the button on the speaker. “transaction.” he drawls, dark eyes trying to look through the dirty glass as if he might see his bounty there.

it’s quiet for a second, before the familiar voice of the Handy comes through, “yes?”

“ten vials for fifteen Jet.”

more silence before the speaker crackles again, “the deal can be further discussed inside, the doors will open.”

Cooper sighs, not looking forward to the hassle of making a deal with the idiots inside. the doors squeak open in a few seconds and he makes his way inside. the relatively cool building was a slight relief compared to the harsh sun.

the moment he steps inside the commotion from the room across from him rings crystal clear through the building. he supposed the guys running it are used to it and barely blink at it. he walks past the room, and reaches the guys in charge sat lazily on the couch in front of the tv.

Cooper clears his throat, the two guys looking up immediately. “ten vials for ten Jet, right?” the left guy says, slightly slurring his words.

“uh huh,” Cooper confirms.

and to his surprise the guys are probably so high they didn't hear what the Handy said and the deal seems fine to them as the left guy rummages through the box of chems to pull out ten vials of RadAway. he wonders for a brief second, if he could rip off the guys and give them less Jet and still get the vials — they don’t seem to be in the condition to properly count anything.

the left guy holds out his shaky hand expectantly and Cooper drops eight Jet into his palm, curious about the outcome. and to his surprise the guy takes the Jet, stares at them blankly, then hands Cooper exactly ten vials. huh, he thinks, well done.

he thanks them after stuffing the vials into his box with the last of his other ones and heads back to the entrance. he nears the room where all the commotion is still coming from and almost passes before he hears a familiar voice yell out.

“dagnabbit! you better get ‘ur grimey saws ‘way from me you asshole!”

your southern twang was even more prominent with your anger and panic, but he could recognise your voice anywhere. he stood before the closed door with a war inside him;

with how little contracts you left him it’d be great career wise for him to leave you here, no more stealing his high paying bounties, he’d finally be able to afford a little more supplies — but a side of him also grew to deeply respect your skill. the way you managed to handle bounties that had even him slightly questioning if he could do it. you clearly had great skill to make it this long in the business and in the world.

he groans, head dropping back as he beat himself for what he was about to do. the panic in your voice sounded genuine, it sounded like you were genuinely fighting for your life. he set his saddlebag down by the door and kicked it open, the door slamming into the wall.

he walked into the room, blood splattered across the floor, the usual tools and coolers around. and then his eyes landed on you, strapped down to a gurney with the Handy trying to hack away at you.

guessing by the blood on the floor he had gotten at least one good slice in. at the sound of the door slamming open both you and the Handy turned to him. “no people allowed in this room!” the Handy crackles, though his blades still hovering above you.

“heya sugar,” you pant heavily. “fancy seein’ you ‘ere,” you somehow manage a genuine smile, which catches him a little off guard, given the situation you’re in.

“quite the predicament you’ve found ‘urself in, huh?” he nods, eyes still watching the Handy as the robot hovers still.

you flinch at something and swallow thickly, “nothin’ i ain’t done before,” he can see the pain through your smile now, and it makes him want to kick himself for what it makes him feel inside.

he unholsters his gun, aiming at the Handy, “hey tincan, how’bout you leave the lady alone?” he drawls, eyes squinting at the robot.

“i afraid i cannot do so, she has been prepared for harvesting.” the Handy states.

Cooper sighs, knowing that whatever happens here means the end of his dealings with this place. it takes a mere inch that the Handy moves towards him and Cooper puts a bullet through it. smoke shoots out the side that was shot. “t-t-that was n-no-o-ot friendly-” the Handy malfunctions, fully turning to him now.

he rolls his shoulder before unloading the other three heavy rounds into the Handy round body. the Handy spurts out smoke and steam from everywhere, dropping to the floor with a loud crash. he really hopes the guys out back are too high to notice all this.

Cooper holsters his gun, side stepping around the dying Handy as he makes his way to you. the closer he gets, he can see what caused you to flinch and where all the blood all over the floor came from — a huge gash in your side. not concerningly deep, but still worrisome nonetheless. you had a few cuts across your bare shoulders as well, he guesses from you thrashing around while the Handy tried to cut you open.

your head drops down onto the gurney and you groan in relief. “oh crud muffin’,” you huff, the muscles in your side flexing in pain. Cooper watches carefully as he begins to unbuckle the restraints, making sure to be extra careful with the one around your hips that’s awfully close to your wound.

“what ‘m i glad to see your handsome face ‘ere,” you pant, massaging your wrists the moment they're free.

Cooper steps back from the gurney a little once he’s unbuckled the restraints around your ankles so you can sit up. he squints at your choice of words. handsome. you sit up, a little shaky. “phew,” you huff, reaching a hand to your side. “my knight in shinin’ spurs-” your voice trailing off just before your body goes limp and drops forward.

Cooper hands immediately find your shoulders, pushing you up before you’re able to drop off the gurney. “damnit girl,” he swears as he lays you down, eyes sweeping over the gash in your side. it was significantly worse than he thought, and given the amount of blood on the floor you had been fighting quite a bit.

he huffs, searching around for med supplies. it surprises him that you kept going as long as you did. he dumps whatever supplies he could find in your lap, before turning his full attention to your wound. you were gonna owe him after this..

bright lights and a warm feeling wakes you, eyes painfully peeling open. expecting the ceiling of the Super Duper Mart, your eyes instead are met with the bright sky, the hot sun beating down on you. you shoot up in a panic, though nearly cry out in pain as the stitches in your side constrict. “sugar honey iced tea!” you shout out with your eyes clenched shut, your hand immediately holding the injury.

footsteps come dashing from behind you, the sun suddenly blocked by someone. your eyes shoot open, wild eyes meeting a familiar pair of dark, hollow ones. it takes you a second, before you sigh in relief and drop back down. you’re quiet for a moment as you catch your breath, before speaking. “where are we?” your throat is sore.

Cooper huffs, the sound of your cry still pounding in his heart. “not too far out from the Super Duper,” he drawls, catching his own breath a little.

when you open your eyes again to look at him, you notice something strange — he’s not wearing his duster. and that’s when it clicks, the heavy coat is draped over top of you. your eyes flit across his form, a raggedy denim shirt sticking out from a thick leather vest that has certainly seen better days with a few missing buttons and what are almost certainly knife shaped holes.

your eyes drag down to his scarred forearms that are exposed below his sleeves that're rolled up, your distracted eyes lingering a little longer than they should.

you reluctantly sit up, groaning as you do so. the duster drops into your lap as you lift your shirt up to assess the damage. “ahw shucks, that ain’t lookin’ good..” you huff, brows furrowed in pain and eyes staring at the roughly stitched gash.

Cooper clears his throat, “did the best i could on a whim, hope that’s okay,” and this is the first time you’ve heard him speak without the confidence and strength he usually has.

you shake your head, “don’t worry ‘ur handsome head, this more than i could’ve asked you for and’m thankful for it,” you tip your head at him, a pained but genuine smile on your lips. god, he thought, was there ever a time you didn’t look so sugary sweet?

he nods in return, “you’re welcome,” he walks over to offers you a bottle of what appears to be bourbon, which you gratefully accept with a pained grin. “should ‘elp take the edge off,”

you take a generous swig, a low moan of relief being pulled from your lips as the liquid trickles down. you relish the sweet burn before handing him back the bottle. “i can’t thank you enough,” you smile.

Cooper shakes his head, “don’t worry your pretty head about it,” he copies your words. he takes a swig before shoving the bottle back in his saddlebag. he pauses as he thinks, “well, there is one thing you could do,” he trails off.

you let out a laugh, and he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s heard in decades. “out with it, what d’you need?” you chuckle.

he shrugs, tilting his head with a playful smirk on his lipless skin. “you could always leave me some bounties for once?” he drawls, eyes squinted to aid the smirk.

you let out another laugh, this one equally if not even more sweeter sounding then the last. “well i’ll tell you what sugar, why don’t we stop dancin' around, partner up and split the caps instead?” there's a smidge of hopefulness in your tone, yet he also feels as though you’ve left no room for a no from him.

he sucks his teeth, looking up as if contemplating his answer. though, the both of you already know what he’ll say. finally, he tips his hat to you, “alright then, 's long as you rest up till that’s healed enough. got it? don’t want you messin’ up my masterpiece,” he chuckles.

that earns him another strained laugh from you. “can’t promise i’ll stay out of a good fight, but you got it sugar.” you grin and wink.

oh lord, he thinks, he’s in for a looong ride.

TAGLIST @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul fallout #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins

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minty364 · 10 months ago

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DPXDC Prompt #136 part 1

Danny felt disgruntled as he slowly came back into consciousness. He was in the middle of the Observants going over some of the new factions that have been growing since he became King. A sudden surge of power flung Danny through a portal and he tried to escape or make sense of what happened but he lost consciousness soon after.

Coming too Danny was a lot smaller than what he thought he should be. His body had a different feel to it and he could tell he was turned into something that walked on all fours. He lifted his head and took in his surroundings. He was in a field, a field of wheat. He couldn’t even see anything besides the wheat and the sky. The portal that dumped him here was no where to be found either. He was going to have a hard time getting back home, especially in his new form. He could still feel his core but the transformation had done a number on him and he felt exhausted.

Suddenly he heard the wheat snap to his left and he whipped his head around to find a person carefully leaning down a few yards away from him. They seemed to analyze his body movements a little bit before he held out his hand that had a small piece of sausage in it. Danny knew not to take food from strangers but it honestly smelled heavenly and he doubted Sam would ever find out, so he hesitantly walked over and gave it a sniff. After he had taken it from them, they started petting Danny on the head.

“You're an adorable little puppy aren’t you!” Ah so Danny was apparently a puppy, he probably should try to find a way back home but maybe being a dog for a while wouldn’t be too bad. He hasn’t had a break in a while and the Observants are so damn pushy sometimes. The stranger continued, “I’m going to take you to Damian, he knows a lot about pets. I feel like him and I got off on the wrong foot the other day and I think you’d be the perfect gift.”

Danny wasn’t sure about being given away as a present but he supposed he had no where else to be and if Damian knew his pets as well as this guy said then Danny would be well cared for.

He was picked up and after a bit of walking they arrived at a farm house. Danny was better able to assess the size of the person holding him and they seemed around 10-12 years old. The kid ran excitedly into the kitchen of the house holding Danny out to an adult that, much like the kid, had black hair and blue eyes.

“Dad! Look I found a puppy!! Can we bring him tonight to the Watchtower meeting so I can give him to Damian? I think he needs a friend and I want to apologize for how I acted the other day.” The kids dad seemed to give Danny a once over before responding.

“It’s probably fine but let me talk with Bruce first and make sure everything’s OK. We don’t want to force a pet on them even if Damian is good with animals.” He finally responded, he gave the kid a hair tussle and then continued, “Jon, why don’t you give him a bath upstairs while I give him a call, I think I still have some dog shampoo from last time I gave Krypto one.”

The kid apparently named Jon ran up the stairs with Danny clutched against his chest. Soon he found himself wet in a bathtub, and then he was dried. He was finally able to get a good look at himself in the mirror, he looked like a miniature husky with white fur and dark black patches along his tail, back, and head. His icy blue eyes were piercing and he could see why someone would think he were cute, in fact he was down right adorable.

After that Jon brought him to a bedroom he assumed belonged to Jon. It was a very basic kid’s bedroom and Danny found himself sprawled on the bed along with Jon. Jon spoke very fondly about Damian and the more he spoke the more Danny got the feeling Jon had a little crush.

Soon Jon’s dad came into the room to tell him that Danny could be given to Damian at the meeting tonight. Danny didn’t know what sort of work Jon's dad did but it sounded like Jon’s and Damian’s dads worked together. He wondered what kind of place the watchtower would be but he didn’t have to wonder for long.

He also realized how different this world was from his own. Jon and his dad could fly and they wore these skin tight suits, honestly they looked like superheroes which was probably exactly what they were. They flew through the air and eventually they were in front of these tubes Danny honestly didn’t know what they were. Jon and his dad did though, and apparently it was teleportation. Danny was awestruck at the site in front of him, the Watchtower was in space and he could hardly keep in his excitement.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #Danny didn’t want to be there anyway #Do Jon and Damian have a difference in age?#Danny’s in Space and all he had to do was get turned into a dog #He’s a Pomsky #If you need a picture I can pull up a picture of my sister’s dog #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #My new job is going well but I’m going to have to hustle on the side #I’ve got a decent microphone so I’m thinking of doing some voice acting on fiverr #Dog Danny #ghost king danny

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lewkwoodnco · 5 months ago

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late nights - lockwood x reader

you fall asleep while waiting for Lockwood to return from a case

“Don’t you -“ he poorly stifled a yawn, drawing her even closer as he murmured into her hair. “Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask my boss.”

“Your boss says yes because your 10 am client meeting is at the other end of town.”

Damn. “What about my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend says yes too. I’ve had enough of you yawning through my pick-up lines at the breakfast table. Now go to sleep.”

a/n: I knowww the title leaves much to be desired but we’ve already established i suck at titles circa the Falling For You fic so u have to be nice to me 🥹🥹 oddly enough rereading the mediator series spurred me to write this piece even tho it has nothing to do with the series?? anyways enjoy some low stakes fluff 💕💕 can u tell I’m a physical touch girlie lmao

tropes/warnings: fluff, physical touch, established relationship, late-night snuggles, need I say more,

word count: 827!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

In her groggy, half-awake state, she felt a dip in the mattress next to her. Instinctively, the arm resting on her pillow straightened and struck upwards, eliciting a mournful groan from the shadowy figure bent next to her. She propped herself up on her elbows, blinking away the last remnants of sleep in her gritty eyes.

“…Lockwood? Is that you?” she croaked out, voice rough with disuse. A cold finger tenderly curled an askew lock of hair out of her face, knuckles briefly grazing her cheek. The familiar, sharp scent of anti-bacterial soap soothed her as she relaxed into his touch. All too soon, the hand withdrew and the dip in the mattress disappeared, followed by the sounds of Lockwood haphazardly pulling off his remaining equipment.

“Go back to sleep.”

She blinked blearily, casting her eyes around the room until they rested on the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, darling. I should have mentioned to the Raw Bones that I had a curfew.”

No funny quip, no breezy remark. His dry tone was evident, and now she could hear his frustration in the way he was yanking at his shoelaces and throwing his trainers across the room. It felt awful to see someone as good-tempered as him be in such bad of a mood. She winced for his benefit, barely visible in the inky darkness cloaking the room. “That bad?”

He sighed in response, the dip in the mattress returning as he wearily slotted himself against her, slipping his arm below her neck. “I’m just glad it’s over.” Still, the cleft between his eyebrows hadn’t disappeared, and she idly wondered what might have happened that he was too exhausted to tell her. One of these days she was going to pin him down and force out every thought or feeling in his head.

She should have guessed the case wasn’t going great when the clock struck midnight and there was still no sign of George or Lockwood. Still, the lines at the furnaces could get quite long during peak periods, and she had no substantial reason to think things weren’t going fine.

So instead of spiralling hopelessly, as she was very much in the mood to do, she slipped on one of Lockwood’s T-shirts that he had left lying around and decided to wait in his bed. Just for a while, before trudging over to her room down the hall. Of course, the T-shirt was so soft, deceptively warm and smelled just like him - like fresh pine trees - that she was out like a light.

She never made it down the hall. Or out of his bed, for that matter.

Now, she clumsily reached out and felt for Lockwood’s face, softly running her fingertips over what she was mostly sure was the site of injury. His lidded eyes fluttered shut as he hummed approvingly. “I’m sorry. I thought you were a Visitor.”

She slipped her fingers up into his hair, his lips parting as she massaged soothing circles into his scalp. “Y/N, if your best defence against a Visitor is to drive a fist through it, I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”

If his response was any indication, his mood seemed to be on the mend. The stiffness in her limbs dissolved as she tentatively pressed her lips to his temple. “There. All better.”

He opened his eyes and she was finally able to get a good look at him. A scrape along his cheekbone, and a bruise starting to form under an eye, but his spirit seemed unscathed. The only problem with seeing him up close was that he got to see her too. He cupped her face and swiped a thumb under her drooping eyes. “I told you not to wait up.”

“I didn’t,” she lied. Lockwood didn’t look much convinced. But he was also too tired to argue, so he curled an arm around her waist, pulling her back to his chest, draping his limbs over hers.

“Don’t you -“ he poorly stifled a yawn, drawing her even closer as he murmured into her hair. “Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask my boss.”

“Your boss says yes because your 10 am client meeting is at the other end of town.”

Damn. “What about my boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend says yes too. I’ve had enough of you yawning through my pick-up lines at the breakfast table. Now go to sleep.”

She acquiesced, but only because her eyelids were beginning to feel too heavy. “I’m trying, but I’ve got this annoying whispering in my ear.”

She could practically hear him roll his eyes. He would have if he weren’t so exhausted. “Good night.”

“‘Night.”

They quieted, and for thirty seconds it was downright serene. That is, until the fingertips lightly tracing her ribs started fiddling with the label on the inside of her shirt.

“Is this shirt…mine?”

TAGLIST: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cielooci @midnight--raine @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99 @how-to-stuff-and-things

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader

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writing-reference-redux · 3 months ago

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Halloween Prompts

60 ideas for writers and artists!

Either choose your own prompt, or ask your followers to choose for you by sending you a character or ship and the number or emoji. Also, let people know if you welcome combos (combining two prompts into a single story or art piece)!

🎃 - Pumpkin carving time!

🍭 - Candy eating contest!

🫣 - Let me tell you a scary story...

🙅 - In support of the Halloween-disliker

💬 - I'm scared, and I'm going to text you all about it

🤒 - What do you mean you're sick? It's Halloween!

😳 - I have never been so embarrassed in my life

😱 - Don't worry! They're just wearing costumes!

🍷 - A little tipsy, a little spooked

☕️ - Pumpkin spice and everything nice

🍁 - The leaves are lovely this time of year

🌙 - A stroll in the moonlight

💃 - Dance the fright away

💔 - Halloween heartbreak

❤️‍🩹 - Halloween heart-mending

💍 - A Halloween proposal

🛏️ - Getting spooky in the sheets (always practice safe hex)

📖 - An armchair, a bathrobe, and a good creepy book

📺 - Let's stay in and watch scary movies

🍿 - How about we go see that new horror flick?

🛒 - What do you mean I bought too many decorations?

🪡 - Adventures in costume making

💅 - Trust me, you're going to look great!

👥 - The perfect couple's costume idea

🧼 - Your makeup really won't wash off?

🥸 - They can't tell that it's me in this costume!

🍬 - We're (not) too old to go trick-or-treating

😈 - No treat, all trick

🏚️ - Two tickets for the haunted house, please

🕯️ - A little bit of candlelight

🔦 - Are you afraid of the dark?

👂 - Did you hear that?

👀 - I'm probably just seeing things

👻 - Do you believe in ghosts?

🧛 - Vampires aren't real... right?

🧟 - The dead walk (or run, or mosey, or swim...)

🐺 - Werewolves and other fuzzy menaces

🧙 - Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

🤡 - Clowns aren't THAT scary

🪓 - Didn't you hear there's an axe-man on the loose?

💀 - Is that skeleton rattling in this direction?

🐙 - It came from beneath the waves

🧠 - It's all in your head (no, really... it's in there)

🎭 - Possession for fun and profit

🤫 - Shh! It will hear you!

🕷️ - Eight-legged guests

🐈‍⬛ - Black cats need love, too

🐦‍⬛ - An unkindness of ravens, a murder of crows...

😴 - Nightmares can't hurt you

🧸 - Children shouldn't play with creepy things

👩🏽‍💻 - An online presence

📦 - What's in the box?

🪦 - We'll just take a quick shortcut through the graveyard

🔤 - Tell me that isn't a Ouija board

📜 - An unfortunate artifact

📕 - Volume of the damned

📼 - I wonder what's on this old VHS tape

🖼️ - A portrait of very bad things

🚪 - A strange door to... somewhere

🎶 - The reanimation of the ancient being known as a "songfic"

#writing #writblr #fanfiction #ask game #prompts #halloween #the spooky season #writing prompts #art prompts #shipping #halloween ask game #halloween prompts #fanfic

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amelie-sama-blog · 4 months ago

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homegirl. bffr.

chawty over there made an essay of 31 minutes talking about the "ROMANTICISATION" OF VIOLENCE in a popular BL manhwa.

looking into the comments also almost made me have an aneurysm. "romanticisation" and "normalisation" of xyz gotta be the most popular buzzword in the anti world, cause i saw it at least 20 times and i barely scrolled. what i also saw is them shaming the author for making such a vile, disgusting, morally unacceptable story, "normalising and romanticising" violence, toxic relationships and rape, and that "fEmAlE BL aUtHoRs nOrmAliSiNg rApE sHoUlD bE a WhOle cAtEgOrY oN iTs oWn aT tHis pOiNt".

girl. be for reeeeaaaal for a second. i read BL manga, lots of it. and i didn't even know about this manhwa until i saw this in my feed. i knew the name cause i saw it somewhere, but uhm, in which world are you living? is someone actively forcing you to go on the internet, go on a BL manga site, search "jinx", click on the link, click on the first chapter, read for a bit, DISLIKE IT, and then CONTINUE TO READ EVERY CHAPTER OF THE WHOLE THING?

i doubt it. i doubt it very much. "if you don't like it, drop it" ALWAYS WORKS. anything else is you admitting that you read shit you don't like just to get mad about it.

uhm, wake up call girlie, fiction is exactly *THE* TOOL to "have fun" with toxic relationships or other dark themes. imo, she BETTER have fun with it if she's creating fiction! and i also bet that the author knows damn well what she's doing.

if this "actually terrifies" you, you shouldn't be on the internet. there i said it. I SAID IT.

if the reality that fiction is on a separate plane from reality and thus it can be anything you want, terrifies you, then respectfully, go on youtube kids and age restrict your own device. because your media literacy is literally in the gutter, and your ability to curate your online experience, is non-existant, as well as the basic understanding that people can like shit you hate.

hmm... i wonder why that is... hmmm.... i wonder why people are soooo adamant about avoiding terms such as "rape" "toxic" "noncon" "dark". now hear me out, MAYBE... just MAYBE, it's because liking dark themes in fiction has become completely unacceptable these days, and every single piece of media one consumes must be inspected thoroughly by the anti-police to be approved for consumption. and thus, people make loopings in their own heads to justify their media consumption and trick their minds into believing that what they're reading isn't "that bad".

because... if it IS bad... then boy do i have bad news for you: it means you're a filthy filthy human that just "promoted rape culture", "anti-victim mentality", and "propaganda for sexual violence", and is thus deserving of death threats and equal to an offending rapist or pedophile.

their words, not mine:

but noooo, that has nothing to do with it.

all jokes aside, the way anti culture and censoring is becoming the default, and heavily policed and enforced under fear of ostracisation, THAT truly makes me sad. remember everyone:

thought crime is not real.

thank you for reading all of this, i didn't plan for this to reach essay size but here i am. i hope this was a good read and soothed your proship heart <3

#anti anti #proship #profiction #profic #pro fiction #proshipper safe #proshipping #proshippers are valid #yaoi #yaoi bl #manhwa #bl manhwa #jinx bl

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baw-sixteen · 11 months ago

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would've could've should've - dr3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x op81 social media manager! reader

they could've been so much more

July 9, 2023

You stared at the picture in the darkness of your hotel room. You should've known. Everyone was talking about it.

Nyck has had a terrible rookie year so far. Knowing Marko, knowing Red Bull they needed more. More points, more perfection.

You couldn't say you weren't happy. You were happy. For him. You were elated.

Daniel loved racing. He had told you that before. You had felt it - every time he got into that Mclaren, every time he had done a better score than before.

He wasn't jobless. No. He could never be. Not till the day Christian Horner was still alive. You knew that.

You see the news yet?

You sat up on the bed. That empty feeling inside you shifted at the text.

The last few weeks were bad. Bad for Oscar. Bad for Mclaren.

Bad for you.

But who cared about that?

Oscar was good. He was very easy to handle. He was less trouble than Daniel.

The few people who cared about the fans' backlash had suddenly dropped to one. You were just a social media manager.

I would've stayed on my knees.

And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil

But he wasn't Daniel.

He could never be what you two were.

Yeah.

You did.

You had seen the news.

___________________________________________

"I'm sorry"

A very tired Michael stared at you.

"What's there to be sorry about, yn?"

You laughed. You actually laughed.

The fans were incredibly intelligent you'd give them that. The theories that you, Michael, Yuki and Lando had read on the internet were crazy.

All this time, both you and Michael had got a lot of backlash from the fans. All because you loved your job more than him. All because Mike wanted to share a bit about him to the fans.

And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

Believable. But crazy.

They said you were draining him off his money. That Michael starved him. Gave him severe training. Just to make him perfect.

There was not a single bone in his body you wanted to change. For the better or for the worse. It's what made you fall in love with him.

How you wished sometimes you could just scream it at the world that he already was perfect.

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

His smile. His charm. His stupidity. His laugh.

That scar on his knee. Or that cut on his chin.

You loved all of him.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do when I see him."

You always had.

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

He was tired too.

"I heard he didnt ask Pyry for training?"

"No. Says he doesn't need it. Doesn't need anyone. A lone wolf."

"Lone wolf, my ass."

A small smile graces both of your faces. No matter what he said. You knew him better.

Memories feel like weapons.

The moment you walked into the hotel your eyes caught him. Head thrown back with a laugh louder than the fans outside. Smile brighter than the Hungarian morning.

"Yn!"

All eyes fell on you as Lando waved you over from where he was sitting among the drivers in the lobby.

The world felt like it stopped as honey coloured irises met yours.

The eyes that once spoke forever to you, were cold, dark - they were trying to drown you in them, choke you with your own guilt.

You heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces as he looked away from you and turned back to where Max was sitting.

And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven

You could hear Lando saying something but you felt dizzy. Tears started to blur your eyes as that pounding in your chest grew louder and louder.

"I'll speak to you later Lando."

You forced your shaky voice to speak as your feet carried yourself to the elevator as fast as they could. But what your retreating figure could notice was the way he shivered.

Your voice still had an effect on him.

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be.

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind

A sob erupted from your throat the moment the elevator door closed. Hot, steaming tears rolled down your face.

The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

As long as Daniel Ricciardo was going to be around, you would never be the same.

I regret you all the time

Oh Daniel, we could've been so much more.

Could've, Would've, Should've.

____________________________________________

author's note: hi everyone!! well here it is!! since you wanted a part 2!!

#f1 x reader #dr3 #daniel ricciardo angst #f1 imagine #f1 #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #wouldve couldve shouldve

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marixadxo · 9 months ago

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Workout bang

cw: Size mention, pet/nicknames, public sex?, fingering

You and König both worked on base and had a small apartment near. Your shift ended early but he was still training the rookies so he sent you home early, that was about 6:57pm. It was 11:30 pm when you called, but to no answer. You got in the car and drove back to base, checkin in and heading to the gym space, to see what was up with him.

You normally don’t see him workout without his compression shirt, but DAMN did he look good without it. Since he was alone, he figured he was fine to workout without his top. You watched him for a few minutes before knocking on the door. “H…Hey Konig?” you spoke out sheep-ishly. He turned his head and chuckled. “Ah, I assume it's late now isn’t it Meine Liebe?” he asked, setting the weights down and opening his arms for you. He smiled once you walked over and hugged him, as he gave you a kiss on your head. “It's been hours, Konig ... .I even called your phone a few times..” You mumbled into his chest. “My bad love ... .but you're with me now right-?” he asked, forcing your legs to straddle him as he held your hips, looking down at you. You're caught off guard as he did this, but you nodded, glad that he’s alright. “Okay yea ... .but the base is pretty quiet, we should go home don’t you think?” you asked looking up at him, only his dark eyes giving you a certain look. That one look you knew very well, when he had a bad/good idea that involved pounding the shit out of you.

You tried getting off him, but his large frame held charge over you. He grabbed your waist and brought you closer to him, your back on his chest. “Nah ah, you're not going anywhere my dear ... .I think you're gonna like this empty gym space…” he told you, in a low rumble in his tone. Before long, his hand was tugging at your pants, pulling them down while giving you gentle kisses on your cheek, neck and shoulder. Your whimpers and whines energized him more like he was slowly becoming desperate to get to your pleasure. He managed to pull your panties and pants down to your feet. You looked up at him, he looked back down at you and pulled his mask up to his nose, smirking at you. “Such a pretty baby you are ... .my pretty girl…” he whispered, causing you to feel overwhelmed in this position. “K…Konig, we’re still in the gym….a…anyone could walk in on u-”. You were cut off by his roughed fingers rubbing your clit, slightly curling around. He grabbed your face and kissed you, keeping your moans silent. His hands started moving faster, causing you to flinch and arch, breaking the kiss a few times to moan and catch your breath.

You were on the verge of tears of how quick his fingers were moving, his other hand in your mouth, drool spilling out your mouth along with your cries, begging and pleading for him to let you cum. “Aw, is my little slut begging for release? Poor girl……I don’t think I should let you…” he taunted, moving faster past his limits and your’s. "I love seeing the sensitive side of my girlfriend, it's so cute... And the fact I'm the only one that can make her feel this way, makes it even better". He chuckled as he slowed down, finally letting you make a mess all over his hand. Your eyes were fuzzy and mind almost fully blank as you lay straddled on his lap, practically breathless.

He smiled at your little body in his arms. He picked up your pants and helped you get them back on and carried you out to the car. “Let’s head home, sure you don’t wanna be caught here love….” He said, settling into the car himself. It was a 30 minute drive since traffic was iffy at night, but you both made it back in one piece. When he opened the door, he was quick to take you to the bedroom, and he seemed like he was in a hurry too. “Hun? What are you doing?” you asked before you felt his bulge fighting his boxers as he pressed into you, breathing heavily. “Liebling, do you trust me…in this present moment?” he asked, leaning down on you. You nodded.

Before long, you were drooling, biting his shoulder, tears rolling down your face and his seed spilling out of you. He had stuffed you full of him from his throbbing large size to his seed filling you to the brim. He stayed on top of you, groaning and huffing as he kissed your head and looked down at you. “Scheiße...so gut für mich, nicht wahr?” He asked, finally getting off and going to the bathroom. He came back with a towel and wrapped you in it. The rest of the night, he cleaned you up, put ice on the areas where you were most sore and cuddled you.

Neither of you had a shift the next day, so you spent it in bed, with each other relaxing and watching movies. You looked up at him and smiled, “I love you Konig…”. He looked down at you, kissing your cheek “Ich auch, meine Liebe”.

#writers on tumblr #x reader #cod x reader #cod #codmw2 #cod konig #konig headcanons #konig x reader #task force 141 x reader #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig cod

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lets-go-hurt-someone · 9 months ago

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I love Shadowheart. She was my bae throughout my first (unfinished) Tav run. I abandoned that run because Astarion convinced me I needed to restart as Durge for him, but Shadowheart forever holds a very special place in my… well, heart.

I’ve been thinking about the contrast between them and their arcs and the way fandom interacts with them.

They both start off as characters that by D&D standards are “evil.” Shar is an evil aligned goddess, and vampires are evil aligned creatures.

However, Shadowheart isn’t evil. She disapproves of actively evil decisions and approves of kindness to animals and the helpless. She just doesn’t like it if you seem to be putting do-goodery above your search for a cure to the tadpoles. She is fine with killing the grove, but the contrast between her at the tiefling party and the goblin party shows pretty starkly how she really feels.

Astarion starts off the game evil. I will fucking fight anyone on this. He has very very good reasons to be evil, but so does Shadowheart… and she’s not. Astarion enjoys chaos, he likes murder, he likes hurting people. He thinks being “good” is weak and stupid and that might be a trauma response, but it is how he genuinely feels at that point in his story.

And yet. AND YET. For some reason, I have never seen anyone complain about making Shadowheart a Dark Justiciar. If she likes you, you actually have to encourage her to kill Nightsong. Even on my evil run, she spared Aylin if I didn’t tell her not to. You have to either not care about her or intervene to make her evil, and right up to the end where she kills her parents and Shar wipes her memory again, she is just so miserable and resigned to what she’s been influenced to be.

But people do it to get the hotter sex scene or whatever and that’s fine.

But Astarion? The man who spends the whole fucking game begging you to help him take over an evil cult and murder his “family” so he can become a living vampire as soon as he realises it might be an option? The guy who will throw a fit and leave you if you don’t either succeed in a persuasion check or help him eternally damn 7007 people— no matter how close you’ve gotten to him?

Apparently you’re an evil piece of shit if you find his “bad” ending compelling or, dare I say it, hot.

I don’t really care which ending you prefer for either character— I think the game does a great job on its own telling you what you should think and it’s fairly nuanced for both characters. I just don’t understand why Astarion has to be so woobified and his “bad” ending fans vilified as if they’re naive morons with no media literacy.

Shadowheart, the character, hates her “bad” ending way more than Astarion, the character, hates his. And fandom can’t reflect this because I don’t know…

Oh god. It’s sexism isn’t it?

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #shadowheart #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 meta #ascended astarion #lord astarion #bg3 shadowheart #jenevelle hallowleaf #dark justiciar shadowheart #tbh I PREFER SPAWN #but Astarion WANTS to ascend and you know what in the right context I love that for him #dark justiciar is just bleak for Shadowheart #she seems like she’s even trying to convince herself she doesn’t hate it #the slightest tap towards selune sends her spiralling #ascended Astarion should not be so controversial by comparison

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narcolini · 5 months ago

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white room - pt. 1

johnny davis (the bikeriders) x reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 2.8k words, 1 of ? johnny as a miserable bisexual divorcee and reader as someone too chilled and lonely to give a fuck a/n: it's written to be gender neutral, but there are a few references implying they may be afab (not overkill its just a very gendered landscape)

“Go fuck your good self, then.”

The door slams behind you and the window pane shakes with it, piece of shit car that it is, with an equally large turd of a guy running the thing.

“Crazy bitch,” is the cab driver’s goodbye call, and yeah, maybe. But he’s the one dumping you in the wrong end of town—and after dark, no less. All you’d done was get a cab after a party, knowing you left all your cash in one of the boots under your bed, with the mad hope that the guy behind the wheel might just be kind enough to let you ride along on a promise. You had every intention of running upstairs to get him his fee, while he kept the engine running, mind you, but that uptight jack didn’t wanna hear a thing about it. Even had the nerve to ask you to comp him 'with those pretty lips o’ yours’, which is round about where you started calling him a filthy no-good perv, and he started pulling over in the middle of nowhere.

Now you’re standing in the dark in nothin but your too-cheap denim jacket, that you never should’ve bought ‘cause you got shirts thicker than this, staring at a corner side bar that’s almost definitely filled with a hundred more of those cab driver types. Not in the driving sense, but in the fuck anyone that isn’t a man like us sense, you know?

But what can you do? It’s in there, or out here, and you’re not in the shoes for walking, never mind running, so it’s not much of a choice at all.

You go up in a way like you been here before, like you know the name of the place even though the paint’s chipped off and the light ain’t lighting anymore, and in the time it takes to cross the street, you see three guys go in, three come out, and not a single woman or anyone else, so much as look at the place. It’d be a lie to say your heartbeat was going a speed anywhere near close to normal. Which is another thing you try and hide as you push through the door into the chaos of it all.

It’s not a bar, it’s a God damn wolf den.

You make it two steps and already you seen enough beer, and enough skin, and heard enough dogwhistles to consider just how bad it could really be to run barefoot across town. Your feet would only hurt a little bit, right? They seen you now though, and with the amount of bikes they got lined up outside, you wouldn’t even make it to the next block before one of them caught up to you. And then what? Might as well try talking wolf while you’re in here, better that than squaring up with one of them in some stinking alleyway.

“You got a phone, big guy?” you ask, to the first one that really looks at you. He’s a head taller than you but it seems like that head’s spinning, so you figure he needs a little more explanation to get going. “Behind the bar or something? A payphone?”

He takes a while to reply, like you’re speaking some other language, then he says, “I got something you can ride, honey.”

And now you’re back in the cab all over again, and you’re still going fuckin' nowhere.

“Forget about it.”

You shove past him, and another two men smelling of liquor, until you can plant both hands on the edge of the bar and speak to the owner directly. At least, you think it’s the owner. Cause he’s stood back there, with a towel slung over his shoulder, and he’s the only one giving all of these animals their liquid feed for the night.

“Hey," you start, “do you got a phone? One I could use?”

Instead of answering, he looks right over your head. Imagine that, like you ain’t there at all, right over and into the space behind. It takes a second, but then you realise it’s not just bad manners, it’s only that there’s someone else coming up to the back of you who’s much more important, to him anyway.

And now, that’s a guy you look twice at.

He’s not tall, but he’s not short neither, something in the middle that suits you just right, if it mattered. Face like he’s seen some things too, but his hair’s combed all neat like he hasn’t seen nothin. If it weren’t for the bent pinky on his one hand and the scar on his knuckles across the other, you might think he was some sort of regular guy. But he got a walk like he owns the place, more than the barman, that's for sure, and the shirt he’s wearing is plastered with the same exact name as the rest of all these guys: VANDALS. Doesn’t take much to figure that he’s top dog of them. Vandal of the Vandals.

He slides right up to you like you asked him to, sitting his forearms on the edge—next to where your hands are.

“Nah,” he says. Just like that. Nah.

You feel like laughing. “No?”

“Nah,” his head shakes, “you don’t wanna be in here.”

If it’s advice, it kinda feels like a threat and, well, if it’s a threat, it sorta feels like advice. A decent bit of it at that, cause he is right. You don’t wanna be in here.

“Don’t want doesn’t make up for need,” you tell him. “And I need to use a phone, if you got one.”

“What for?”

“A cab?” Then you do laugh. “What? You worried I’ll ring your bill up by calling international?”

He makes a strange, sorta dismissive noise as he’s pushing off from the bar. “Worried you’d call some little boyfriend of yours,” he mumbles, then he walks round to the serving side and pulls a phone from under the lip of it.

“No boyfriend, sir. Just a mighty need to get home.” And the fuck outta this place.

He picks the handset up, spinning the dial without asking you for nothin, his eyes sitting on something you can’t see right in front of him. A number maybe. “Not many drivers will pick you up from here,” he says. "This one…yeah, well, you can try it.”

Any hope you had is fast disappearing on you. “That bad, huh?”

He passes you the phone, the twisty cord going all the way straight just to reach you.

It connects as you put it up to your ear, and some lady with a voice all too quiet for telephones greets you on the other side, rushing you to the point before you can even try and warm her up a little.

"Hi, yeah, so I need a cab but I won’t be able to pay the guy until we get there, is that something your—hello? Hello?” You tut. The empty tone in your ear is a stinging slap to the face, right there, right across the cheekbone. “Motherfucker,” you say, but she’s already all the way gone. She didn’t even hear you out.

And this guy? Well he’s smiling when you look back at him, doing an awful bad job at pretending like he ain’t been listening. “Yeah," he clears his throat to hide a laugh he won’t laugh, “you should’a said you had no money. No cab’s gonna—”

“I know,” you snap. “Still had to ask though, didn’t I?”

He shrugs, nodding at sorta the same time like he agrees with you, even though his face is fixed like he don’t agree at all. Like you’re awful naive for thinking they might even listen to you in the first place.

“Guess I’m walkin’ then,” you decide. You pass him the handset, but he’s too slow to take it, so you go on your toes to lean over and put it back yourself. Hard and pissy with it. Shitty taxi service. Shitty phone. Shitty bar.

“You want a drink?”

Your heels hit the floor again. “What?"

He puts his hand out like he works here now, pointing to all the dingy bottles waiting behind him. “A beer…or?”

“Yeah," you test, “what’s the or?”

“Or,” he says, slow with it, "you sit round drinking nothin’ and wait until I can take you home.”

Your brows shoot up like he’s told a lie bigger than any you’ve ever heard. “You gonna take me home?” you ask, thinking yeah, he’s gonna take you home, and you’re gonna be the next big Santy Claus.

He nods and it keeps going, like his head gets away from him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I can give you a ride.”

For a second, you find yourself worrying about it. “That code for something else?”

He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jeans and sets one in-between his lips. “No. S’just a ride.”

You watch the lighter flip, the cigarette catch. Watch him take a drag and blow it out again. He isn’t acting drunk, and he don’t seem like he cares either way, whether you take a ride from him or not. All he seems bothered about is finding the end of that smoke, and popping the cap off another beer.

If these are wolves, then he’s the oldest of them. The most tired and nicked with battle scars. From where you’re standing, that makes him the least threatening too, cause you come with a whole load of baggage, and he looks like he’s got even more than that. And anyone with all that shit on their shoulders? Yeah, they’re not gonna be no sort of trouble at all. They just wanna get home at night with their head pinned on straight still.

"Well alright,” you say. “I’ll take a beer and the ride, too.”

“Beer and a ride,” he grumbles back, not moving the cigarette and losing his words because of it. “I’m Johnny."

“Johnny?”

He nods, handing you the beer he just readied for himself.

“Thanks.” You give him your name the same way he gave you his, and he says it back to you, the way you did with him, though you know you didn’t mumble it the first time. He heard you just right. “This the part where I tell you how far away I live, and you say actually, I don’t got the gas for that, right?”

“How far d’you live?”

“Other side of town.”

He shrugs. “I got gas enough.”

And that’s how you end up on the back of his bike, clinging on like some sort of koala bear thing, with the town going past like it’s made of nothing but air, cold, loud, air. Flooding your ears and the collar of your jacket, even the ends of your pants are filling up with it. Going so fast nothing feels like anything, only that, everything feels of everything. Way too much. By the time you’re pulling up to the house, your head’s spinning like you had ten beers, not two, and he has to offer his hand just to get you off in one piece.

“God,” you say, “does it feel that crazy every time?”

He looks like he wants to smile, but something inside don’t let him. “Guess so.”

“Well, you got bigger balls than me, that’s for sure.”

Then he really wants to smile, you can see it in the little crinkles by his eyes. “Night, kid.”

“Not a kid,” you tell him, cause you lived through too many years of shit to not get the respect an adult deserves, plus, you ain’t even that much younger than he is. Anyone without a stack of lines down his forehead must look like a kid to him. “Thanks for the ride. You really saved my ass.”

He waves it off, like it really was nothin, though actually it was a pretty big something, a real good favour. “Ah. Wasn’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.”

“Oh yeah? Saw me walking in like some sort of square and the alarm bells went ringing?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

You hum a little, shrugging while you think on it. “I could’a handled myself,” you tell him. Which isn’t all the way the truth, but it’s not too far from it neither. You can get mean when you have to.

“Maybe, but you didn’t have to, did you?” He kicks the bike to life again, and there goes that engine, so loud his ears must be working half as good as they should be. “See you around,” he says.

You nod. As far as last words go, those are some pretty boring ones, but it’s later than late now, and you’re not feeling like standing outside any longer until one of you comes up with something better. So he gets a “see-ya” and that’s the last thing either of you will ever say to each other, cause when are you ever gonna find yourself in the middle of some roughed up, leather wearing, bike club, ever again?

____

Well. Turns out you got a whole lot wrong when it came to figuring Johnny out. Not even a full day goes by, and you’re hearing that rumble, that big bru-bru-bru, clattering noise coming right back down your street. And Mrs Saccone, who’s normally deafer than deaf, is banging a broom on your wall telling you to get rid of it. To get rid of him. Can you imagine? Old lady, never done nothin wrong in her life, as far as your Pops ever knew, and suddenly, big mean man on a bike, sitting outside and ruining her TV dinner.

You couldn’t get out there fast enough. Half-dressed, you know, you were ready to settle down for the night. Work stuff off and replaced with those big, old man type boxer shorts. If it weren’t for the bathrobe, wrapped all up round yourself, you’d have blushed so hard it’d burst a blood vessel.

“You forget something?” you ask, parking your feet and slippers right onto the concrete next to him. “I got neighbours, you know.”

He frowns, pursing his lips as he looks you over. “I wake you up?”

“No. But I’d be lying if I said you weren’t disturbing my peace.”

He nods, still running that engine, one foot on the ground to keep him in one place there. It goes so long without him saying nothin that you start thinking maybe it’s your turn, and you forgot which one of you spoke last or something.

“Can I help you, Johnny?”

“Let me take you out,” he says. Not a question, but not bossy with it neither, just ‘let me’. If he’d said it like an order, you would’ve told him to stick it where you told the cab driver to stick it last night, but he seems to know better than that.

You pull the robe tighter, right up to your neck. “I’m not going back to that bar,” you tell him.

“No, not there.” He flicks a gloved hand over the bars of the bike, imagining some fancy, high-class sort of place, right there in front of him. “Somewhere nice. You and me.”

It’s a good thing your mother is on a whole other continent, because without thinking much about it at all, you say, “Alright, sure. You can take me out.”

He smiles, and it might not be, but it feels like it’s the first one he’s shown you, all real and bunched up in that stubble of his. “You should go get dressed then.”

You feel the life drain right out of you. “We’re going now?”

“I’m here." He shrugs. "So, yeah, why not?”

“You know most people would hate you for that,” you say, “giving a person no warning.”

The bike goes quiet then, and he swaps the keys for a pack of smokes in his pocket, leaning back like he got all the time in the world. “D’you hate me?” he asks.

“I might.”

“Oh, might.” He says it back like you don’t mean it, and won’t mean it, with another one of those funny throwaway noises following on after it. “I’ll take my luck with might.”

And what d’you say to that? Nothin, you say nothin, all you can say is, “Give me ten minutes.”

Then you’re trotting back up the porch steps, hoping Mrs Saccone isn’t peeping through the curtains, and wondering what the Hell you’re gonna put on that’s any kind of suitable to go to a nice place with a Vandal on your arm.

If it weren’t your life already, you wouldn’t believe any of it. This time just yesterday, you were at some square neck, office party, saying goodbye to some upper-level fucker—who never learned your name, and didn’t even thank-you for the half serious farewell note you left in the communal goodbye card—and tonight? God, if you weren’t so used to shit going unusually, you’d be pinching yourself. Real hard, too.

Some man called Johnny, who you don’t know from Adam, swinging by to pick you up on his motorcycle. Yeah, ‘crazy bitch’ really is starting to feel like an appropriate title for you to have. Who would’a known?

........................

part two here

tagging: @drabbles-mc @garbinge

#the bikeriders fic #johnny davis x reader #johnny davis fic #the bikeriders x reader #johnny davis

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nelkcats · 2 years ago

Text

Cyrus & Boreas

Spirits of the elements

The earth has been in a very delicate balance for a couple of years now, despite constant reminders of extinction, only magic users know what is really going on with temperatures, sometimes too hot or too cold.

It had been years since Amity Park ceased to exist, years since the land where the old town was located was inhabited, now it was just a wasteland, the city practically moved into the Infinite Realms, it turns out that its inhabitants were so exposed to ectoplasm that when they died almost everyone became a ghost.

For years Vlad and Danny had come to an agreement, just watching the earth, seeing new heroes come and go, but they were both getting bored of it, missing their old rivalry, the thrill of chasing each other, they also missed visiting their dimension. It was, after all, half of their home.

Seeing the problem of global warming and how damaged the earth was, Clockwork presented them a solution. It turns out that when you were properly connected to your core you could take an animal form, and expand your element where you stepped, or around you. Frostbite and the yetis taught Danny more about it, Pandora and the greeks ended up teaching Vlad.

It was the beginning of their competition, apparently Acropolis of Athens and Far Frozen had an old rivalry too, so they were more than happy to teach them how to deal in a friendly way (still a dangerous fighting but apparently that was the most friendly possible without killing each other)

This power wasn't something ghosts would practice very often, because it would expend too much energy and ectoplasm, it wasn't like Dora's amulet or Amorpho special talent at all, ¿the good part? The halfas were characterized by having energy to spare.

With that resolved, Clockwork tasked them with taking care of the earth's temperatures, so a few times a year (mostly on winter and summer solstice days), Vlad and Danny would choose a specific animal and run across the earth, the places where Vlad stepped warmed up in an instant, the places Danny walked were filled with snowflakes and cold.

The animal forms they liked to take the most were extinct or mythological creatures, sometimes they changed to be opposite species, at other times they were the same.

The magic users named it "The Cyrus & Boreas Phenomenon", when Danny heard about it he was excited by his name being so similar to the Northern Lights, while Vlad sulked for having a Persian name while being trained by Greeks.

This continued without being a problem, until Danny found the Wachtower station in space, immediately he changed his path and ran towards it; Vlad, knowing this could become a problem, followed him from afar.

The Justice League and Justice League Dark were having a meeting when the temperature dropped, Constantine cursed as the rest of the league tensed "Bats, what day is it?"

"December 21" upon hearing his response, Constantine cursed again as he ranted about the winter solstice.

"Damn it, damn it ¿why did he deviate from his route? He doesn't go of his way, especially not in this time of the year, ¡this is a disaster!" Constantine paced back and forth "Look, I know you guys like to poke your nose into everything that happens, but this is strictly magical, so no matter what's about to come, keep quiet, do absolutely nothing ¿Do you understand?" The hellbazer's hands trembled as he speaked.

"You can't just say that, ¡we have a right to know! This is nonsense" Diana frowned, she didn't much like the wizard's attitude right now.

"Sorry Wonder Woman, but this is strictly tied to the Justice League Dark, trust us for now, it's for your safety" Fate spoke, he knew nothing bad would happen if the league just kept quiet.

As soon as the lord of order stopped speaking, the entire room began to freeze, pieces of ice hanging on the walls as a Giant wolf ran through the wall.

In the first instance, the wolf looked dangerous, the places where its paws were placed had frozen, pure pieces of ice, the wolf turned its attention to the League, approaching curiously.

"Boreas" Zatanna exhaled in amazement, the entire magical community knew how the animal's presence felt no matter how much it changed its shape, it was the closest thing to a myth that existed, leveling the planet's temperatures, staying a few days and disappearing, impossible to find, record or locate no matter how hard you tried.

"However, where is Cyrus?" Constantine murmured to his partner, if Boreas was near his counterpart shouldn't be far away.

Danny looked at the wizards, interested in the names they had given him, he was about to ask about it when a ball of fire hit him in the shoulder.

He growled in complete frustration as he turned to look at his assailant, behind him the League tensed at the sound as Fate signaled for them to keep quiet.

Behind the animal appeared a Tasmanian tiger the same size as the Giant wolf, Barry was about to question if they weren't supposed to be extinct when the wolf snarled and lunged at the tiger, who ran back to earth.

The entire league watched as the ice brought by the wolf was extinguished by the appearance of the tiger, returning to normal as both creatures moved away.

"Constantine, situation report" Batman was clearly the first to snap out of the trance he had been left in.

"Look Bats, I know how much you want your precious information but this is out of your league, ¿those guys? Cyrus & Boreas, they are as close to benign Gods as you can find, they keep the earth's temperature stable with their games" Constantine lit his cigarette, trying to ignore the surreal situation.

"¿Games?" Superman was next to speak, a concerned note in his voice.

"Games" Fate confirmed "We theorize they are opposing elements, maybe spirits, we think they pursue each other as some kind of challenge, and the balance on earth is just a lucky accident, we don't know where they live or where they come from, but they're not someone you want to play with." Fate commented, remembering the fact that most of the time the creatures try to hurt each other but never give the final hit, always waiting for the other to heal.

"Are you telling me that if these beings decide to stop coming here, will we simply ¿disappear? ¿Because they just decided to stop playing?"

"Something similar, but far more complicated than that" Zatanna entered the conversation "they keep the consequences of global warming stable, if they stop coming, well...the earth will definitely go extinct quickly, I'd give it a couple of years" is not like humanity was taking proper care of earth, these "gods" were basically a miracle for humans to correct their own errors.

"¿Why were we not informed?" Batman was at a crossroad, these beings were definitely dangerous, but if they faced them it could cause catastrophic consequences.

"The same reason you are struggling Bats" Constantine snorted "You want to solve all the problems, but you don't understand that magic is not meant to be solved or a problem, some things are better left as they are, without interfering, or it could happen something worse" and they are far older than all of us he didn't mention out loud.

"Then ¿what do you suggest? ¿We stand here doing nothing while two would-be Gods use our planet as a playground?" Oliver frowned, disgusted.

"Yes" for the first time Shazam spoke in the conversation "because if we don't let them we will become extinct" Billy knew much more than the magicians, books on the rock of eternity that detailed human spirits, about the infinite Realms and the deities that inhabited them. The delicate balance existing in life and death, but he was not allowed to divulge it.

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

Back on earth, in Paris, Vlad and Danny were enjoying a cup of coffee and hot chocolate respectively.

"So, ¿did you want to meet the heroes or see their cool station in space?" Vlad questioned in amusement as Danny choked on his chocolate "The station ¿huh?" Vlad spoke again while Danny looked at him with a frown "It's okay Daniel, I know you can't help it"

"Yeah, I know, it was a bit stupid to change the route, and reveal myself to sorcerers, but the heroes, the aliens, the space, I needed to see it" the boy grimaced, feeling guilty "thanks for getting me out of there, I was about to do something stupid"

"¿Something stupid like speak?" Vlad questioned knowingly, he was aware that humanity now considered them myths or even gods, they shouldn't be revealing themselves freely, their games were mostly harmless but they had a purpose.

"Yeah, sorry" Danny sighed "although I love the new name, Boreas commands a lot more respect than Danny, ¿right? I do miss when they called me Phantom though..."

Seeing that the boy was lost in his memories again, Vlad sighed, he also missed the old times, their battles, Phantom and Plasmius fighting to the death, but their grudges were resolved long ago, they had no reason to fight, Boreas & Cyrus was an escape from boredom and a reunion with the old days more than anything else.

"It's okay little badger, we can stop by their space station next year, I don't think the fledgling heroes will care" Vlad took a sip from his mug, considering, obviously they would care, but he really didn't care about their feelings, let them freak out a little more.

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