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gor3-hound · 8 months ago

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WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE - NAOYA ZENIN

ft. naoya zenin x puppy!reader

a/n: commission for the very lovely @nexysworld !! naoya is so very pretty and i was scared to write him BUT !! he was actually very fun to write. i love my asshole nepo baby :3 hope you guys enjoy, fb and reblogs are always appreciated <3

cw: 18+ content, dead dove-ish, pussy inspection, mistreatment of hybrids, forced cosmetic procedures, dub-con bcs power dynamics, praise, degradation, use of shock collars, caging, mentions of filing teeth, ear cropping, touching unhealed wounds, tail play, misogyny, spit, mean naoya, dehumanisation, orgasm denial, forced spaying, p in v, creampie, dacryphilia, neglect

word count: 3.2k words

Naoya’s bored.

It might’ve made you feel better if he had a secret soft spot - that the pressures of his clan have left him lonely and desperate for companionship, but that’s simply not the case. There’s no profound self-realization that comes with his actions, no sense of guilt when he pays one of the maids to suck him off before he kicks her to the curb.

He’s just bored. He’s always found the best cure for his boredom was to find a pretty little plaything that was willing to put up with him. But there’s only so much you can do to a human girl before she’s skittering off. Women value their life more than their job these days, a thought that has him scowling and breaking the shit in his room as soon as his latest slut cuts him off.

He needed something more permanent. A pretty thing that he can use to get his dick wet. One that isn’t crying for a relationship or money when he’s finished. He’s always found those hybrids pretty cute, and it seemed like the perfect thing to keep him entertained. A girl that knew she was lesser than him. A pet he could play with that would forgive him after a couple of head scratches and a new toy.

It’s that thought that has him dragging his ass to the nearest adoption center, his eyes scanning the kennels until he spots you.

You seem like a shy little thing, but he doesn’t see an issue with that. He’s always had more fun breaking girls in, and you’d be no exception. He hums thoughtfully for a moment, his head cocking to the side as he looks you over. He doesn’t address you or ask you any questions, but he doesn’t need to. You were cute, and that’s all he really cared about, anyway. He calls a worker over, asking to get some time alone with you.

“Well, we don't really have any private rooms for you to-”

“How much?” Naoya cuts him off without even gazing his way, his eyes locked onto your form. No point buying the goods if he doesn’t get a trial run, first.

“I'm sorry?” The worker stutters out. Naoya hates that shit. Pisses him off more than anything, acting like he doesn’t want the Zen’in’s money. Naoya knows better.

“You heard me. How much? Doesn't need to be a fancy room. Shit, I'll take a storage room. I gotta check she's worth the money, y'know?” He says with a sigh, his brows twitching slightly as he fights back a scowl.

Seems to work well enough, because the worker leads him to a staff room, telling him to wait right there. He crosses his arms over his chest, making him sigh in annoyance. He waits impatiently, but he lights up when you come padding into the room, looking all nervous.

”No need to be scared, girl.” He tells you, but his words come out in a grunt. He doesn’t really care if you’re scared of him or not, as long as you let him get a good look at you. He moves towards you when you don’t budge, gripping your chin between his fingers.

His gaze is sharp, his dark brown eyes narrowed as he looks over your features. He reaches a free hand up to your floppy ears, giving them a flick. A frown crosses over his features as he gives you an appraising gaze , clicking his tongue. “They’ll have to get done. Don’t like ‘em.”

His fingers and thumb dig into your cheeks, forcing a gap between your teeth so you open your mouth. He shoves his fingers down your throat, sighing when you gag and splutter. “Gonna have to train that outta ya. Those canines are gonna have to get fixed, too. Bet they’d fuckin’ hurt if they caught my dick.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your spit off on your cheek, smirking when your nose wrinkles. He reaches down, tugging on your fluffy tail with a thoughtful expression. “That can stay, though. Cute.”

”Bend over the table, pup. Spread your legs, lemme see your cunt.” He orders, releasing your tail and taking a step back. Your hesitance irritates him, and his hand comes out to smack you across your face so hard that your head snaps to the side, your ears ringing. “Don’t make me say it again. I fuckin’ hate repeating myself.”

Your tail is tucked between your legs as you shift to lean over the table, those fluffy ears pressed down firmly against your head. Doesn’t bother Naoya. He kicks your feet apart, pulling your pants and underwear down in one tug. The tail is a little bit of an obstacle still, so he sighs and scratches behind your ears.

”C’mon now, baby. I didn’t mean it.” He coos, making sure he finds the spot behind your ear that has you pushing back against his hand. His tone is condescending, but that dumb puppy brain of yours can’t register that. He grins as your tail perks up and wags, showing you off to him. “That’s better. Lemme get a look at that pretty pussy.”

He kneels behind you, spreading your folds with two fingers, humming in satisfaction as strings of slick spread and break at his actions. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t pick out a puppy for that exact reason - a few words of praise, and you were soaked. He slips a finger deep into your cunt, adding another one and scissoring them open before groaning at the tightness. You felt like a virgin, too. Perfect.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wiping his spit off on your clothes before he pulls them back on. He gives your ass a few pats as he stands up, turning around to bang a few times on the door.

”Hey! I’ll take her.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Naoya’s unpredictable.

It’s hard to settle into a routine with him. He can be easy to handle one moment, only to switch up at the next second. He’s never kind - that’s not the right word for him - but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his moments. If you’re good, he’ll let you curl up at the foot of his bed. Sometimes he’ll even let you sit at his feet when he’s relaxing, petting your head absentmindedly.

Those moments are few and far between. For the most part, he’s cold. He doesn’t pay much attention to you unless he’s feeding you or if it’s play time.

He shows you the most attention when he wants to play. He’ll praise you, scratch behind those freshly cropped ears standing tall on your head and run his fingertips through the fur of your tail until it’s wagging fast enough that he knows you’ll be pliant and eager for anything he wants to do to you. You’d tried whining, begging, pleading… Anything just to get him to look at you and show you some affection, but you quickly learned that the only way you could guarantee something from him was to paw at the front of his pants until he’s twitching against your hand.

His choice of affection has a bit of a side effect, and you’re unlucky enough that Naoya notices it. All it takes is one little ‘good girl’ or a scratch on your head for you to be soaked, whining and rutting against any part of him you could reach. He loves feeling you wrapped around him, but he loves teasing you even more. So, naturally, as soon as realizes how desperate his touch makes you, he decides it would be a fun little game for him to see just how needy you could get.

He’s leaning back against the couch when he spots you padding over, that fluffy tail slowly picking up speed the closer he gets to you. He can’t help but chuckle when he spots you settling on the floor by his feet, a smirk spreading across his face when you rest your chin on his thigh. Your gaze flicks up to his face, a longing expression on your features. His hand comes down to pet your head, fingers scratching your scalp gently.

”You need something, girl?” He coos, tugging on one of your bandaged ears until you whimper, biting back a laugh when you lean into the touch regardless of the pain that comes with it. You’re always so eager to please, it drives him crazy.

“Need you, please.” You whine, your ears tilting back slightly, unable to press flat against your head due to the wrapping keeping them up so they heal pointed. He grins wolfishly at your words, yanking you by the collar until you’re straddling his thigh, a mischievous going in his eyes.

”Go on then, pup. I’m too tired to deal with you myself. You can handle it, can’t you?” He hums, giving your head a pat before crossing his arms behind his head as he leans back on the couch. You give him a curious little head tilt, confusion twisting your cute little face. He loves it when you give him that look - you’re just a dumb puppy, nothing more than entertainment for him. He can’t help but feel amused, shifting his leg so he can press his thigh more firmly against your core.

”You’re a big girl, aren’t you? I’m sure you can figure it out, puppy.” You seem to get the picture, a soft, needy sound rising in your throat as the hard muscle of his thigh presses against your cunt through the fabric of your shorts. Your hips start shifting on their own, rutting against him desperately. Your mouth falls open, artificially rounded canines digging into the flesh of your bottom lip.

Your hands come down to rest on your own thighs - you know better than to touch Naoya without asking, and you don’t want this to end so soon. Your nails press into your flesh, leaving indents on the surface of the skin. Naoya’s face is a mask of indifference. There’s no sign of enjoyment from him, the only hint that he isn’t completely unaffected by your actions is the tent forming beneath the fabric of his pants. You whine when you realize he isn’t even looking at you, staring over your shoulder to look over one of the paintings on the wall.

You want him inside of you, want his strong hands to grasp your thighs as he fucks into you. The thought alone has you panting, your head hanging as your tail starts to wag again, steady behind you as you grind against his thigh more harshly. Your breaths come out heavier, your cunt soaking through the fabric of your shorts to coat his own pants.

You’re so overwhelmed with your rapidly approaching orgasm, how good it feels to finally be this close to your owner that you don’t see his hand reaching for his phone until it’s too late. You yelp as your collar zaps you, the fur on your tail standing on end as the shock makes you spasm, your hips quickly pulling away from his thigh.

”I didn’t say you could cum, did I? Bad girl.” He hisses, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you across the floor, forcing you into your crate with a swift kick. He slams the door behind you, locking it before stepping back. “You can stay there for the rest of the night. If I hear you so much as fuckin’ squeak, you’re not getting let out for the rest of the week. Got it?”

You nod quickly, but that’s clearly not good enough for him. He taps at the screen of his phone a few times before pressing his thumb down for a longer period. The voltage is higher, and he doesn’t let up on shocking you until you drop against the blanket in your crate, your fingers twitching. He scoffs at the sight, letting go of the button.

”Pathetic. If I’m talking to you, I expect an answer. Surely you’re not so stupid you’ve forgotten how to use your words?”

”N-no. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll be quiet.” You whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the effort it takes you to hold back tears.

”Stupid mutt.” He grunts, fiddling with his trousers until he can free his cock. His jaw tenses in slight annoyance at how quickly that has you perking up, your eyes wide with interest like he’s holding a damn treat up for you. He steps closer to your crate, pressing his length down against the bars above your head. Naoya can’t help but laugh as you try to crane your head to get a taste of him, his eyes shining with amusement as your tongue laps between the gaps to catch his skin.

”Look at you. You were crying a second ago, and now you’re drooling like a bitch in heat? You are the single most pitiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.” He muses, letting out another chuckle at the whine that spills from your lips when he pulls away from the crate.

”Go to sleep.” He grunts as he tucks himself back into his trousers, his eyes trained on your as he takes a step back. “If you’re good enough, I might let you out for breakfast.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Naoya is wordless as he approaches your cage.You can tell from his narrowed, fox-like gaze that he hasn’t forgiven you from last night, his jaw set tight as if you hadn’t just made a small mistake. Naoya expected nothing but perfection from his pet, and it was something he made abundantly clear. He opens the door, his eyes narrowed in on your slumped over figure.

”Out.” The words are short and clipped, but firm, leaving no room to argue. It wasn’t a request, but a command. You weren’t stupid enough to ignore it.

He watches you crawl out of the cage, kneeling at his feet on the cold floor. You keep your gaze trained downwards, unable to meet his eyes. You look so pathetic it almost angers him, a crease forming between his brows as looks down at you. He slowly strips his clothes, his eyes locked onto you the entire time.

“Strip.” You listen, pulling your clothes off and adding them to his own pile on the floor. There’s no praise now, no attempts to get you wet enough to take him. He just pushes you down onto all fours before spitting directly onto your cunt as he forces his cock into your tight heat. It’s meant to be a punishment, but all it takes for you to get wet is the feeling of him stretching you out, your tail swaying side to side as his tip presses up against your cervix.

”Such a slut… Dripping as soon as you see cock. Bet it doesn’t even have to be mine, hmm? Could pass you around the whole clan and you’d gladly let each and every one of ‘em mount you until you were sore and dripping cum.” He spat, his hips rocking forward harshly. He builds up a steady pace, pounding into you brutally.

”Wouldn’t…” You manage to force out, brows furrowing as you try to rock back against his hips, your walls pulsing around his length. “Just you… want your pups.”

”Aww, that’s cute. You want me to breed you, girl? Is that it?” He lets out a cruel laugh, tugging on your tail to pull you back against him with each thrust, his cock brutally pounding into your tight cunt. “You think I’d let you carry my seed? That your bastard children could be sufficient heirs for the Zen’in clan? I’d never let you have puppies. Stupid fuckin’ bitch. Didn’t even realize I got you spayed? You just believe every little thing I tell you, huh?”

Fuck, he really likes the look of your tears. Nearly has him cumming from the way you look sobbing on his dick, the way you clench around him like you're trying to milk him dry despite how upset you are. It doesn't matter what he does to you, not when you're so forgiving. He knows he can say whatever he pleases and you'd still come running back to him, tail tucked between your legs like you were the one in the wrong.

He presses down between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest flat against the hard-wood floor as he keeps your ass in the air with his grip on your tail. With your back arched, the new angle allows him to fuck into you deeper, bullying himself into you without any regard for your pleasure. You were nothing more than something to use to him - a glorified fleshlight, at best. He only let you cum because of how tight you squeezed him when you did, how hot it was to see your dripping down his length.

This wasn’t about you right now - it was meant to be a punishment. You'd be lucky if he decided to let you cum in the following weeks, let alone today when he's still pissed off at you for almost breaking one of his rules.

His hips smack the fat of your ass with every thrust, low grunts spilling past his lips as he wraps your tail around his hand, smacking your thigh in frustration when you yelp at the discomfort that comes with it. He's increasingly glad with every pained whimper as his grip tightens that he decided not to dock your tail. It's so much better than a leash could ever be, forcing you back onto his imposing length everytime it gets too much for you and you try to crawl away.

“M'gonna cum.” He groans, harshly forcing your upper body further against the floor as he leans his weight on the hand pushing you down, slick sounds filling the room as he thrusts himself brutally in and out of your twitching pussy. He yanks on your tail, pulling you back against him as he cums with a grunt, his cock twitching inside of your abused cunt. He ruts his hips into you shallowly as he rides out his high before pulling out, smacking your ass once before standing up, ignoring your pleas to let you cum.

“Stupid mutt.” He spits out, rolling you onto your back with his foot, pressing it down against your stomach to hold you down. He spits on your face, a huff of laughter leaving him as your nose wrinkles. “I've been too good to you. Made you think you have a say.”

“You are a toy.” He continues, pulling his foot away with you before moving to gather his clothes. He pulls them on, leaving you panting and leaking his cum on the floor. “Something for me to use when I get bored.”

He makes his way to the door, shooting one last glance at you over his shoulder. “The quicker you learn that, the better.”

#naoya zenin #naoya x reader #naoya x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you

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delopsia · 1 year ago

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Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. My late entry for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month!

Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs.

Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.

The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top.

His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.

"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.

Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him.

"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.

But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together.

Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."

Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.

You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck," it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"

He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb."

On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.

And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.

"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.

Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut.

"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to.

Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype.

"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life.

Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you.

Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy.

A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more.

"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."

A pitchy whine slices through the air.

You haven't heard that one before.

Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"

He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."

It's not fair.

Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.

"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward.

Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."

"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man.

Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy."

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb.

As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks.

But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.

Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.

"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.

He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore."

"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"

"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."

That...

"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time.

When he was on the other side of the room.

"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."

Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.

He'd heard you through the damn wall?

But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room.

"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"

"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest.

His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.

"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"

And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?"

You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.

"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."

A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.

You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.

"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...

magnificent.

Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat.

And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager.

His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.

"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut. Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit."

You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.

"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."

"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."

He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.

"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."

Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.

His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—"

"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—

Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass.

Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers.

Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes.

"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs.

"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"

"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."

There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.

You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door.

The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.

Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.

For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.

Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...

Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...

"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"

But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate.

Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.

The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him.

His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.

There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.

Hell, he didn't even know.

It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip.

If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now.

Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow.

You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth.

He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently.

"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"

His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.

He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself.

"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.

His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.

And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.

"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen.

You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him.

His eyes roll.

"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.

This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.

And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit!

All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #oneshot #werewolf au #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month #delgato writes

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criminalamnesia · 1 year ago

Text

The One I’d Come Looking For

warnings: mentions of blood and death, mentions of past trauma, no use of y/n, reader has an unnamed sister, reader has powers and goes by “phantom”, not proofread

summary: you and peter had fallen out months ago because of your different lifestyles. now, he’s back in your life and trying to save you from Kraven’s hunters.

author’s note: I’m down bad for insomniac!peter. anyways I wrote this quickly and in a blur. it’s also my first step back into writing for fun in a while so I’m sorry if it’s awful and messy! I definitely started this with a different ending in mind but what’s done is done.

—

You thought you’d put your life as a criminal behind you. You’d been doing good for yourself without the help of your powers. You’d gotten out— but Kraven pulled you right back in.

You were on the run now, constantly looking over your shoulder as you attempted to find a way out of New York. It’s times like these you’d wish those experiments had given you the power of flight— maybe even invisibility. Anything to get you out quickly and unscathed.

Your phone rings for the third time in ten minutes. You don’t need to check the caller ID to see who’s calling. You know it’s one of the spiders— probably Miles, as you and Peter had a complicated history.

You ignore the ringing in favor of focusing on pushing the needle into the skin of your thigh to sew up the gash there. Kraven’s hunters were no joke. You’d faced worse, but they’d caught you by surprise. One minute you’re sleeping peacefully, the next your eyes are flying open to the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

You’d taken out most of them as you escaped, but one had taken a sword to your thigh. You were lucky— those blades were sharp enough to cut through bone. The one that hit you had skimmed you, but it had still cut deep enough to need stitches.

You bit your bottom lip as you worked on stitching yourself up. Your first aid skills were a little rusty, but it was almost like riding a bike. You never forget how to patch yourself up after a fight, right?

The phone rang again and you scowled. You should’ve left the damn thing behind, but maybe your subconscious made you take it in hopes that he’d call.

You and Peter hadn’t spoken in months, not since you stepped back from a life of villainy. In hindsight, it’s ironic. Peter hated your lifestyle when you were together— it’s one of the reasons things ended. You’d think he’d be interested once you were on the straight-and-narrow, but he was radio silent.

You could understand. You had done a number on him— and he on you.

Again, the phone rings. You pull the needle through your skin a final time, tying the thread and reaching for the bandages beside you. A knock on the door startles you out of your thoughts.

The bandages are forgotten as you raise your hands. Green light swirls around your fingertips. You’re ready to send a barrage of green spikes through the air when whoever is knocking speaks.

“Phantom, I know you’re in there.”

Peter.

“It’s open,” You sigh, dropping your hands and turning your attention back to the bandages.

The door slowly creeps open a crack to reveal an unfamiliar suit. The red and blue you once knew are gone, replaced by an eery black that unsettles you. You raise your eyebrows as he enters the room and pushes the door shut behind him.

“New suit?” You ask, looking back down at your leg as you start wrapping the bandage. You grit your teeth as you pull the fabric tight around your thigh. You couldn’t afford to start bleeding again.

“Why don’t you answer your phone?” He counters, his voice lower than you remember. It almost didn’t sound like him.

“Kinda busy here, Pete. Fuckin’ hunters know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ve got my trail again, it’s only a matter of time before they come busting in here. I’ve gotta patch myself up and get going— excuse me if I don’t have time for chatting,” you huff, not bothering to look at him as he approaches you.

“I saw them on my way over,” he says. “Said hi.”

“Did you?” You said, ripping the last of the bandages and patting your thigh. You’d have to stay ahead of them now. You’d lose a foot race, but you may win with some distance. “How kind.”

“I was trying to buy you some time.”

“I don’t need your help, Peter,” you spoke, pushing yourself off of the floor while minding your hurt leg. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”

“You should be grateful,” he said. There was an angry edge to his voice, and it was unnerving. You’d never heard him speak in such a tone, especially towards you. No matter how mad you made him when the two of you were together, he never reached that point.

“Should I?” You questioned, getting a good look at him now. He still had the white spider you recognized, but the rest of the suit was a slimy looking black. “I don’t owe you shit, Spider-Man,” you threw the title in his face, watching as the off-white slits of his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask for your help. I can handle myself— I have been handling myself for months, and last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with me. So, why are you standing here now?”

He exhaled sharply. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you gave a small laugh and shook your head. “This angsty, brooding act isn’t cute, Pete. Tell me what you want or get lost.”

“I’m trying to save you,” he spat as his face started to come into view. Black tendrils of the suit slinked away until his mask was completely gone. There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize.

“Save me from what, the hunters? Little too late for that, incase you haven’t noticed,” you gestured a hand to your thigh.

“Kraven,” he spoke, his voice rough. “He’s killing villains. He’ll kill you.”

“I’m not scared of Kraven or his hunters,” you said, reaching down to swipe your bag off of the floor. You shrugged one of the straps over your shoulder and looked back at Peter. “And you should know I don’t need saving.”

“Can you not be so stubborn for once?” Annoyance was clear in his tone as one of his hands reached out to wrap lightly around your wrist.

“Since when do you care about my well-being?” You countered, pulling your wrist from his grasp and stepping around him. “We didn’t end on good terms. We haven’t spoken in months. I don’t think you could hate anyone, that’s not who you are—” you gave a small laugh as you shook your head, “but I’m pretty sure you got close to hating me.”

“I never hated you,” he told you, and his voice almost sounded normal again, but you were already walking towards the door. Your hand grasped the handle, pulling it open, but making no move to step out.

You ignored him. Although you would never tell him, those words meant a lot to you. You had loved Peter— for fuck’s sake, you were going to marry him. But you got caught up in some bad shit, and he couldn’t forgive you for it. You didn’t expect him to.

The last time you had seen him, you’d limped away. Broken and bleeding, abandoning him on a rooftop, ignoring his pleas for you to do the right thing.

You had never raised a fist to him, nor he to you. In fact, he had saved you from death at the hands of Kingpin that night— and still you’d finished the job you were assigned.

The clarity that came after was crushing. Missing him was crushing, but you were too proud and he was too tired. You know that if you’d gone back to him, he would have eventually forgiven you. Peter was good like that. It was one of the reasons you had loved him.

It was one of the reasons you still loved him.

“Goodbye, Spider-Man.” You spoke softly before stepping into the hall and shutting the door behind you.

You hobbled down the hallway and desperately tried to ignore the pain in your leg. The hunters wouldn’t stop just because you were injured, meaning you couldn’t stop either.

Whatever. You’d been through worse.

As you approached the end of the hall, the irises of your eyes shifted to a light green. It was a subtle tell that you were using your powers. As if the occasional glowing-green structures you created weren’t enough of a tell.

You shifted through the wall, your eyes fading back to their original color as you inhaled deeply. You knew Peter was probably still lurking somewhere close by. He was never one to sit back and let something happen, especially if it involved someone he cared for.

Well, used to care for. You supposed it was just the heroic-ness of him that kept him glued to your shadow. He couldn’t leave in good conscience, not when the hunters were on your tail.

You limped deeper into the alleyway you’d shifted into. It reeked of rotten food and you swore you saw a rat run by, but life on the run was never glamorous. Besides, the darkness of the alley made you feel the tiniest bit safer, even if you knew the hunters had tech that would make the dark surrounding you look like daylight.

Speaking of…

An arrow whizzed by your head, embedding itself into the metal of the overflowing dumpster a few feet ahead. You sighed.

“Can’t you guys take a hint?” You turned and raised your hands, ready to defend yourself, and—

“Run!”

Peter had been following you. He landed between you and the quickly approaching squad of hunters, sparing you a glance over his shoulder before turning to unleash his wrath on Kraven’s lackeys.

“Can’t run even if I wanted to, Spider!” You shouted, shrugging off your bag and tossing it to the side.

What happened next was a blur.

Green light swirled between your raised fingers, materializing into the green spikes you’d almost impaled Peter with ten minutes ago. You sent them flying towards the hunters who weren’t preoccupied with the spider currently ripping them to shreds.

One hunter screamed in pain as one spike met it’s mark, piercing the woman’s abdomen.

Peter may have a no-kill rule, but that didn’t mean you did.

Another grunted as a spike met his shoulder, but he soldiered on with a sword raised.

“Really? Still coming?” You huffed as you formed a sword of your own, the green light it was constructed of illuminating your battlefield.

The man roared a battle cry as he brought his blade down towards you. You parried swiftly, but the man you were fighting was much more experienced with a blade. He swung again, and as you attempted to move out of the way, the blade sliced into your other leg.

“You guys don’t fight fair, huh?” You groaned. Green light dissolved as you lost your focus on your own weapon. Now you were just trying to keep your balance as you dodged the hunter’s strikes by the skin of your teeth.

“Not as strong as we thought,” the hunter spoke as his blade made contact once more, this time cutting into your arm. “Kraven will be disappointed.”

“You caught me on an off day,” you rolled your eyes. “Maybe try again next week?”

“Phantom!”

The shout caught you off guard, and you made a stupid, careless, rookie mistake. You would later blame it on the horrible concoction of events leading to that moment. Peter popping back into your life, the cut on your thigh, and the fatigue you felt after being on the run for days.

Your head turned to follow the voice because you knew it was Peter’s. Old habits die hard, right?

The hunter raised his sword again, and then the world went black.

—

When you woke up, you were in a cage. An honest to god cage. You snorted as you lifted your pounding head from the ground. The hunters took their shtick seriously, you had to give them that.

You blinked your eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the spots clouding your vision. Probably a concussion. Just another injury to add to the list.

As you slowly pushed your body up into a sitting position, you mentally noted your other injuries. Deep cuts to one arm and both thighs, including the cut you’d stitched— which was now bleeding again. Your right leg also felt broken, which you guessed was something the hunters had done after you’d fallen asleep so you wouldn’t escape.

“Kudos to them for trying,” you mumbled under your breath as you shakily— and very carefully— stood.

You limped to the bars of the cage and grasped onto them for support. As you surveyed your surroundings, you realized you were in a zoo. It almost made you laugh.

“You guys are cute for being so committed to your little hunter thing. Really, it’s adorable,” you spoke as you caught sight of the hunter standing a few feet away.

The woman didn’t acknowledge you. She kept her back towards you as she watched the small fire crackling in front of her.

“Even the spider talks less than you,” a man’s gruff voice startled you. The hunter stepped out of the shadows as he approached the woman by the fire.

“Speaking of the spider,” you called out, “where is he? Do we have adjoining cages, or does he get special treatment?”

The male hunter didn’t bite. He came to a stop beside the woman, leaned down to whisper something into her ear, and then he turned and left.

When the sound of the man’s boots hitting the ground could no longer be heard, the woman turned around. She snarled as she looked at you. One of her hands reached to unsheathe the hunting knife strapped to her hip.

You watched as she began to walk towards you. Your mind raced as you thought of different ways to escape. If she opened your cage, you could use your powers and dispose of her— but how big was this zoo? You had only seen the two hunters, but you weren’t naive enough to believe they were the only ones here.

“Lucky for you,” the woman finally spoke. Her voice was thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “Kraven wants you alive.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Lucky for me.”

The woman raised the knife in one hand and reached the other towards your cage. You struck in an instant.

Green light contrasted the orange of the fire as a spear materialized in your hand. You shoved it forward between the bars of the cage, right into tj woman’s stomach. Before she could attempt a scream, you wrenched the weapon from her gut, raised it in your grasp, and shoved it into her throat.

She dropped to the ground, the only sound escaping her throat a quiet gurgle. You were done playing games— and you didn’t want to prove Peter right. You didn’t need his help. You would get out of here on your own.

You phased through the bars of the cage and raised your hands in anticipation. The only thing you heard was the sound of the fire. It was too quiet.

“Need some help?”

You scowled as you turned your head to look at the man who landed beside you.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you spoke.

“You were locked in a cage,” Peter replied, throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards the cage. “I think you needed a little help.”

“I’m not in the cage anymore, am I? And whose doing is that?” You retorted as Peter’s face slowly revealed itself.

“You just can’t say thank you, huh?” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Fuck you, Peter. I told you to stay out of it. I know you feel like you have to intervene, but you don’t, so—”

“Of course I have to intervene,” he cut you off. “I can’t let you die.” His tone was almost angry as he took a step closer to you.

“Are you doing this because it’s me or because of your need to save people?” You said, and he went quiet.

“You feel like you can’t let this go because you have to save everyone. I get it, Peter. But you don’t have to save me.”

“I can’t let you die,” he repeated, his voice soft. His eyes met yours.

Back in that abandoned house, when you’d seen Peter’s face, he hadn’t seemed like himself. But now, as you stared into his eyes, you saw the Peter you knew. The one you loved.

“Peter—” you began, but he shook his head.

“Just let me talk. The way things ended… it shouldn’t have happened like that. I was angry. First May and then— then you. And you went back and finished that job and I just couldn’t— I couldn’t do it. I could barely look at you.”

He paused, and you waited for him to speak again.

“I didn’t understand it at first, why you did it. But now I do. Ganke found out what you did with that money a few weeks after. I wanted to say something— but you were in the wind, and I knew you didn’t want me to come looking. So, I let you go. I had Ganke keep a lookout for any calls that might’ve related to you, but none ever came. You went clean, and I wanted to reach out, but—”

“Peter, whatever end this whole big speech is coming to, I don’t need to hear it.” You interrupted, and he shook his head.

“No, you do. You weren’t a… good guy. Not all the time. I know that. But some of the things you did, and who you worked for, I understand now. Your sister—”

“How do you know about her?” You spoke, eyes wide.

“Please don’t be mad— I had Ganke do some digging after… everything.”

You were shaking now. Peter knew. He knew everything. He knew that you worked for big bosses like Kingpin because you were sending money to your sister.

He knew that you became a criminal because of your anger and your desperate attempts at finding the man who experimented on you. Mob bosses have connections, and you thought you could work out a deal.

He knew that the reason you still finished that job for Kingpin, even if the villain had almost killed you, was because your sister’s life was at stake.

He knew your sister was dead, and that’s why you had tried to disappear.

“We had our problems when we were together,” Peter said after a beat of silence. “And I’m not excusing your past— but you could’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.”

You shook your head. “No, you couldn’t have. He would’ve killed her sooner. Besides, you’re not my therapist, Peter. No one could’ve help me with that anger I felt— that I still feel. I’m still who I was, I’m just trying not to take it out on innocent people anymore. I don’t want to be the reason someone else loses their sister.”

You could hear police sirens in the distance. You gave a small shake of your head as you pushed back the thoughts of your past.

“We should go.”

Peter reached forward, his hand finding solace on your shoulder.

“I can’t forget what you’ve done. I can’t forget the fights and the disagreements between us. But, I also can’t forget the love I have for you. I can’t forget how much I’ve missed you over these past few months. I can’t forget, but I’m willing to forgive.”

Your eyes met his once more. “Peter—”

“I will always come looking for you, over and over again. Even if it takes me a little bit,” he gave a small laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

The sirens were getting closer. You inhaled deeply.

“This doesn’t fix us.” You told him, and he nodded.

“It doesn’t. But maybe one day soon, we can try again.”

A small smile etched its way onto your lips. You gave a small nod as one of your hands came up to rest on his hand.

“Now, let’s get you out of here,” he said as his mask reformed. He moved his hand from your shoulder to you waist and pulled you tightly into his side.

“Still remember how to do this?” He teased, and you laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fear that comes with your horrible steering.”

“Just for that,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I’m going the long way.”

Peter shot a web and the two of you were pulled into the sky. You held onto him tightly, and even though you knew the two of you had a long way to go, you’d never been more excited to see where the journey would take you.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #Peter Parker/reader #spiderman #spider man x reader #spiderman/reader #insomniac spider man #insomniac games #spider man 2 ps5 #ps5 spiderman #spiderman ps5 #insomniac spiderman #insomniac spiderman x reader #spiderman ps4 #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you

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ssweetleaf · 9 months ago

Text

bleed.

gator tillman x afab!reader

summary: gator uses his knife to show you who you belong to.

includes: SMUT 18+, dub-con, knife play, blood play, ownership kink???

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Gator’s mouth was hot on your neck, straddling your waist with those thick thighs of his, a steady palm weighing heavy on your chest as he kept you down and still.

His hunting knife glistened with every short flick of his wrist, the shiny metal winking at you, mocking you, and your chest heaved in anticipation of what was to come.

“You scared, hon?” He cooed, pouting down at your shaky form, all condescending and dripping with venom.

You gave him a short nod, blinking back a wave of tears that threatened to ebb over your lash line.

He clicked his tongue, grazing the skin of your cheek with his knuckles before pinching it between a thumb and forefinger.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you too bad, baby,” he cooed, pressing a short, spongy kiss to your forehead. “Jus’ gotta put you in your place, that’s all— show you who you belong to.”

Gator pushed the fabric of your shirt up, exposing the plush flesh of your tummy, the tip of his blade ran along the length of your skin, not yet harsh enough to break the skin, but enough to have you shivering and waiting for his next move.

He smoothed his free hand along your thigh, pushing them apart and groaning lowly at the sight of your panty-clad cunt, a wet spot evident, saturating the fabric and he grabbed at the elastic, tugging them upwards, watching with a lip between his teeth at the way your pussy lips enveloped the material.

Your poor clit throbbed, desperate for Gator’s attention and your thighs quivered from trying and failing to shut your legs, his knife so dangerously close to your pussy.

“Now,” he sighed, tapping at his chin in mock thought, fingers dancing idly up and down the skin of your thighs, creating goosebumps in their wake. “The question is, where do I cut you, pretty girl?”

You sucked in a sharp breath and it hitched in your throat, it was useless to try and hold in your tears anymore, the fat, salty droplets streamed down your cheeks, ruining the pretty makeup you spent so much time on just for him. But he thought you looked prettier like that, with your mascara streaming in long, black lines and your lipstick smeared along your cheek.

So pretty, he thought. Actin’ as if butter wouldn’t melt.

Gator caught sight of your hip, pulling your panties down to get to the soft skin beneath, trailing his thumb along the stretch marks and blemishes that resided there.

“Think I found the spot,” he hummed lazily, eyes hooded and he quickly reached in his pocket for his stupid vape, inhaling the artificial sweetness and exhaling into your direction, sugary sweet watermelon filled your senses, and you coughed a little when it made its way to your lungs.

He pocketed his beloved vape, shifting around on his knees, his free hand flat against your hip bone, stretching the skin a little and to keep you nice and steady. He didn’t want anything ruining his little masterpiece.

“You gonna be nice ‘n’ still f’me while I mark ya, honey?” He cooed, “don’t want ya wrigglin’ around, it’ll ruin my work.”

You let out a little sob, but nodded nonetheless, the action earning you a little kiss to your tummy, his chapped lips calming you for just a moment, before getting back into his character.

“Y’ready, baby?” Gator didn’t wait for a reply, instead he went straight in with his blade— the sharp edge sliced into your skin, droplets of blood rose to the surface, beginning to spill over the cut he had made.

You cried out at the sharp sting, head fuzzy and eyes completely glazed over from your salty tears, you managed to stay still, knowing that if you struggled it’d hurt much more.

“Shit, honey, look so good when y’bleedin’” he groaned, keeping a fixed gaze on your cuts, a steady hand guiding his knife slowly, drawing out the process for his pleasure. “Could just eat you right up.”

You gasped at his filthy words, your pussy clenching around nothing, arousal leaking through your underwear, completely saturating them and leaving them a sopping mess.

His eyes quickly flitted to yours before resuming his gaze at your hip.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya, dirty girl.” He grinned, finishing his last few etchings into your skin, the sharp blade stung as it sliced, but you almost missed its touch when he placed the knife on the nightstand.

Gator watched with big eyes, irises swarming darkly and he leaned down to nudge his nose against your hip, your blood smearing across his skin before he flattened his tongue, lapping up your sweet blood in long licks— he swallowed thickly, grinning up at your with lazy, hooded eyes, blood between his teeth and the cracks in his lips. So obscene.

“Well?” He cocked an eyebrow, “aren’t ya gonna take a look?”

You leaned on your elbows, craning your neck to get a good look at your new brand, eyes widening when you saw what he had etched upon your poor flesh.

There, still ebbing with blood were a scratchy pair of initials:

G.T.

#gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman imagine #gator tillman blurb #Joe keery smut #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #joe keery blurb #gator tillman fic #gator Tillman #fargo season 5

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winniemaywebber · 8 months ago

Text

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 4

part one part two part three

masterlist

mood board by @hephaestn

taglist: @ginabaker1666 @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid

Her head leaning on her hand, her elbow on the table, Olive feels Valencia glance across at her. She has seen her eyes softening as James talks, unaware that her mouth is slightly agape. A sharp kick under the table snaps Olive out of her trance, Val shaking her head and smiling, those gorgeous red lips parting and showing her perfect teeth as she makes eye contact. “Breathe, Ollie,” she teases, as the boys engage in a conversation about something or another.

“Sorry,” Olive mumbles, awkwardly sipping her drink. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Maybe it's the booze?”

“Oh, probably. Yep, that's it. Not the most handsome man I've ever seen taking interest in me. Not that at all.”

“The most handsome, huh? Jesus, don't let him hear you say that.”

“Why not?” Olive giggles.

“He'll never fit his head through that door ever again. Not to mention us never hearing the end of it.”

“You girls wanna take a couple laps in the Jeep? Watch the sunrise?” Dougie asks, looking pointedly at Olive.

“We're all far too drunk to drive, Doug, and I ain't walking all that way,” he pauses for a moment, feeling Val's eyes focus on him. “Only walking my girl home.” The classic furrow softens immediately.

“That's what I thought, Everett. Good answer.”

“What do you say, Olive? Wanna take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” she replies, nervously. She glances over at Val, who nods towards her as Ev helps her with her jacket.

“Olive, see you tomorrow. Can you get here in time?”

“Oh, I'm sure I can,” a panic rising in her chest, hoping that somehow she was able to get back. Whether any time had passed between the two worlds, she had no idea and was terribly nervous to find out. Alas, she had to get home and check on Pearl, relieving Joan of her duties. But a few more moments with Dougie seemed so incredibly tempting that she felt herself taking his open hand and rushing out the door with him into the cold, morning air.

“You don’t have a jacket?” He asks as he sees her shiver the second the warm club is behind them.

“Didn't plan on staying this long, actually.”

He laughs a little, pulling off his own jacket. “Here,” he says, wrapping it around her shoulders. He pulls the sleeve up as she puts her arm in, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna hold your hand.”

His hand slips into hers and they begin to head towards the hardstand. Olive, pontificating how to make a quick exit without seeming rude, is distracted from her thoughts by an orange ember coming towards her face. Holding a lit cigarette in front of her, she knows he expects her to take it in between her own fingers. Instead, she drags on it from where he holds it, not once breaking eye contact and his mouth drops open.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, moving the cigarette back to his own mouth as soon as she has blown smoke from her lips. “Where did you grow up?”

“Here,” she smiles. “I just moved back from London.”

“London? Wow, why?”

“Oh, errm,” she stutters, trying to formulate a story that has little substance but is not a lie. “I, uh…lots of things. I had a few things not work out. My grandma took a fall just over a year ago and she needs a carer. I decided to come home and take over.”

“That's real nice of you, Ol. I'm sure she's grateful.”

“I'm sure, too. She'll never say it, she's a grumpy old girl. But, I love her. She's my pal. Taught me how to be tough and I'm thankful for that.”

“Tough, huh?”

“Mhm,” she nods, realizing they are almost at the aircraft she fell from this afternoon. “What about you?”

“Lansing, Michigan. You probably haven't–”

“Never heard of it,” they overlap, Olive giggling and instantly going to cover her mouth with her free hand.

“Hey, no. You gotta stop that.”

“Why, Dougie?”

“Because you have a pretty smile. And you shouldn't hide it, especially when it's me making you do the smiling, huh?”

A moment of silence passes between them as they reach the wing of Just A-Snappin, coming to a stop. His hand on her cheek, hers on his back. “Tell me more about Michigan,” she murmurs, their noses almost touching.

“It's real pretty,” he replies, his hand going from her cheek to her hair to move a strand that's blown in her face. “Real pretty in the fall especially.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking her mouth. “I'll take you one day.”

“I'd love that,” she replies, moving closer. Just as their lips are about to meet, a loud, shrill horn noise is heard over the tannoy, followed by a thick accent.

“James Douglass,” it commands. “Put that girl down and get to bed!”

“Dammit, Red,” he mumbles, turning away for a second and squinting up at the tower. “I swear he has eyes in his ass, that guy.”

“Is this goodnight?” she asks, handing the jacket back.

“It is. I'm sorry. I wanted to walk ya home but–”

“Look,” she says, kissing him gently on the cheek. “The sun is rising.”

For a moment, he holds her close to him before breaking away, kissing her softly on the cheek, too.

“Goodnight, Olive,” he says, beginning to walk backwards towards his destination.

“Goodnight, Dougie.”

The second his back is turned, Olive begins to run in a full sprint towards the Red Cross Hut to retrieve her clothes. To her relief, Helen is snoring softly in the soft light of the sunrise, Val nowhere to be found. Assuming she's still with Ev somewhere around, she delicately places the dress upon her bunk, pushing out any wrinkles and creases with her hands. Pulling her shirt, overalls and boots back on, stuffing the headscarf in her top pocket, she makes a hasty exit, extremely careful to not disturb Helen. She sighs softly and turns over, causing Olive to freeze as she tiptoes towards the door. Luckily, she remains asleep, the rapid movement not waking her once.

Returning to the plane and making sure there are no eyes on her, Olive runs around to the hatch she stumbled out of earlier. Seeing it left open, she hesitates, trying to reason with herself to stay. Thoughts of how devastated Pearl would be creep into her mind, cementing the decision. With a sigh, she climbs in, somehow finding long forgotten core strength. She reaches down and shuts the door with a slam, waiting a few moments. Closing her eyes, she waits, the blazing afternoon sun coming through the windows causing her body to overheat instantly.

Sadness crawling all over her, she kicks the hatch open again, her body suddenly heavy. Jumping out much more gracefully this time, she lands heavily in her boots, the scene around her seemingly unchanged. The group of girls she had originally been with were back in their usual spot, Olive now traipsing over to them casually, trying not to be seen. Heather greets her with a smile, her absence apparently unnoticed.

“Taking a look at the plane?” She asks before the final crowd of school kids of the day make their way around the circuit.

“Something like that,” she titters, grabbing a rake. “What time is it?”

Heather raises an eyebrow as she looks at her watch, trying to gauge the time as the warm sun reflects the watch face. “Errrm, it's two pm.”

“Oh!” Olive says, surprised. Seemingly no time had passed at all.

—

“Hiya, Pearly Girly,” she greets, walking into the house. Kicking her boots off by the door, Olive begins to walk into the kitchen, reaching into the beige fridge to quickly gulp milk straight from the glass bottle that was delivered this morning.

“Hey, you,” Pearl greets, hobbling in with her stick. “Get a glass, for goodness sake!”

“I only wanted a gulp,” Olive laughs, now seeing that she'd somehow chugged half the bottle.

“Some things never change, do they? You've been doing that since you were wee.”

“Old habits die hard, Grandma. Where's Joan? Am I late?”

“No, doll,” Pearl says, shaking her head. “She's out in the garden. Funeral director called.”

“Ah, shit,” Olive replies, peeking out of the window that's shrouded by a worn net curtain. She sees Joan pacing up and down the garden path, arms crossed and face growing more furrowed each second. “I'll make her a cuppa. You want one too?”

“If there's any bloody milk left,” she teases, leaving the kitchen. Olive titters and shakes her head as her back turns, clicking the kettle on.

—

Pearl and Olive sit opposite one another, sipping from their mugs despite the boiling hot weather outside.

“So, good first day? How did you like it?”

“Oh, I loved it,” Olive replies, a huge smile on her face. “I met some really nice people. Red Cross girls, took me under their wing and–” Olive pauses, realizing what she has said, seeing Pearl’s confused face. It settles in an instant, the ringing in Olive's ears subsiding as she sees her face return to normal.

“I used to love their jumpsuits. The headscarves they'd wear through the day while their hair was setting for a night at the club. I was always envious. There I was, sweating, beetroot red with a rake and overalls, while they were there looking all glamorous, handing out coffee and donuts to these handsome men. I would've traded places in an instant.”

Olive giggles. “I don't blame you, Pearly. I bet they were all beautiful.”

“They were,” she says, wistfully. “There was one man that caught my eye right before we moved. I never got his name, nor did we ever speak but you bet your bottom I was sat watching his every move whenever I could. He always had this dog with him–”

Olive, taking a sip of tea, inhales at the wrong moment and chokes as she hears Pearl’s words. “Jesus, Olive,” she laughs, trying her best to throw a napkin her way. “Wrong pipe?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, coughing a few more times. “Something like that.” It couldn't be the same dog, the same man. Surely not? Shaking her head through the shock, Olive trying to make sense of everything that's happened in the past few hours, Joan enters the room looking a little less stressed than the last times Olive has seen her.

“Hi, Olive,” she smiles.

“Joan,” she greets. “How are you?”

“Oh, better now I've got that sorted. Funeral home wanted to go through the order of service, and wanted to know how long my grandson's speech was going to be. You know our Kyle can talk.” Joan looks at Olive, her lips pursed slightly. “You remember Kyle, Olive?”

“Oh, er, yeah. I sure do.” How could she forget? Seeing him on the train while on her way home had brought up so much disdain that she'd felt nauseous for hours afterwards. Kyle, the first and only guy she'd let break her heart, and she'd let him do it because he somehow broke through all the toughness Pearl had taught her - and used it to his advantage.

“I do wish you two had worked out–”

“I wish he'd have been able to control himself and not sleep with my best friend.”

“Olive!” Pearl scolds. Standing up, Olive announces her leave.

“I need to shower. Nice to see you, as always, Joan. See you tomorrow.”

—

Olive sits on her bed, wrapped in a towel and tries to breathe slowly. Laying down on the bed, her wet hair soaking into the pillow case, she closes her eyes and begins to try and ‘center herself,’ an exercise she'd been taught in Movement Class at drama school. Feeling her lungs inflate and holding her breath for just a moment, Olive hears a small knock on her door.

“Ollie Pop?” Pearl calls, her voice etched with concern. “You alright?”

Breathing out slowly, Olive sits up. “Come in, Grandma.” As she does so, she puffs heavily and sits on the bed beside her.

“I like our Joan, but her grandson is a twat.”

“Granny!” Olive shrieks.

“What? You know if I curse, it's serious. He is. A stupid one at that.”

“Yeah,” she replies, sighing. “Besides,” she pauses, the panic attack pushed aside. “I'm a tough girl. Just like my Grandma.”

—

Laying in the softly lit room as the sun rises, Olive tries her best to read by the glowing lamplight emanating from her bedside table. The words scattering on the page, blurring into one another, she snaps it shut and sits up quickly as her alarm clock beeps, not wasting a single moment. Despite a night of minimal sleep, Olive gets ready in a flash, trying her best to remain as quiet as possible to not disturb Pearl who she can hear snoring from her room. Opening the door with a small creak, Olive smiles sweetly as her beloved Grandma sleeps peacefully, pictures of her husband on display on the table directly next to the bed. Closing the door quietly, Olive goes to the kitchen and boils the kettle for her morning green tea, waiting for Joan to come take over. Despite Olive figuring out that only a little time passes between worlds, she does not want to risk Pearl ever being left alone. Sipping at the hot liquid, she watches the sunrise through the garden window. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, her mind goes back to the previous sunrise she saw, under the wing of a plane with Dougie.

Finishing her tea, Olive quickly runs back to her room to collect her dog-eared copies of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest, hoping to find time for some light reading throughout the day. Joan arrives soon after, instantly apologizing for yesterday as she walks through the door, eyes wide with anxiety.

“Joan,” Olive says, waving her apology away. “Not you that should be apologizing really. You're fine. It's fine and we're fine.”

“Phew, good. Our Pearl awake yet?” Olive shakes her head.

“Not yet. She seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly last night, too.”

“She's a lot more relaxed now you're here, Ol. She knows you're safe and I think that pleases her.”

“I'm glad to be here,” she pauses, smiling awkwardly. “Right, off to work!”

“Do you need something for lunch?”

“No, thanks,” she smiles, quickly adjusting her headscarf. “I'll grab a donut.”

—

Practically skipping to the airplane, she takes a quick look around to make sure nobody has eyes on her. Only a few early morning museum visitors are around, going into the building itself, trying to keep out of the cool morning air. Satisfied that nobody can see her, she clambers into the plane, body flopping into the aircraft like a hard loaf of bread.

“I gotta get better at this,” she murmurs to herself, wincing as her core tightens. Leaning down, she slams the door shut and waits. A dog barks in the distance, her eyes clamped shut in fervent hope. She opens her eyes and gently fiddles with the door, her head sticking out slightly. Waiting on the ground is Meatball, tail wagging the second he sees Olive.

“Hi, buddy,” Olive squeaks when she lands on the floor, a lot more graceful than yesterday's breathtaking bump. “Good morning!” Taking him by the leash, she retrieves her bag and begins to walk to the Clubmobile.

“Hey!” She hears as her back is turned. “Who said you could take my dog?” There's Benny, a playful smile on his face that Olive instantly reciprocates.

“He did, actually. Waiting right there to greet me.”

He laughs, leaning down to stroke the dog. “He just was excited to see his new best friend.”

“And so was I,” she replies, handing the leash to him. “I'd better run. Can't be late for my first day!”

—

“Aaah! You're here!” Val squeals, squeezing Olive into a quick embrace. “Come on,” she says, taking her by the hand and leading her to the hut. “Tat got a uniform for you, Lord knows where from but I gave her my measurements and what do you know, there was one spare, exactly your–our size.”

Hanging on the small locker next to a bunk, is a blue jumpsuit, emblazoned with the American Red Cross logo on one pocket.

“Here's your space,” Val says, gesturing towards the locker. “We have our own showers so we keep most of our stuff in there, toiletries, make up, what have you. We usually use this for trinkets, but decorate how you see fit, doll.”

Placing her satchel on the bed, Olive removes her clothes and slips into the jumpsuit, it fitting her like a glove. She stuffs The Tempest into one of the huge pockets while Val takes in her new look.

“Oh!” Val gasps, hands on her cheeks. “Don't you look adorable! Wait til Dougie sees you!” Rolling her eyes, Olive looks in the mirror one final time before heading to the door of the hut, Val close behind.

“Helen is already there,” she says, linking her arm with Olive's. “We'd better get there before she's rushed off her feet! Most of the boys are on the ground today, but they'll still be wanting coffee and donuts from us.”

“Makes sense,” Olive responds, waving to Tattie as she zooms past in her Jeep. She waves back, a smile on her face, the wind of the cool morning blowing through her perfectly styled hair.

“Tattie gets a Jeep?” Olive enquires, hoping there's no tone of malice within her question.

“Oh, yeah,” Val says, nodding. “She's the head honcho. She's General Spaatz's daughter, after all.”

“I dunno who that is, Val. Enlighten me.”

“In simple terms? Commander of the Eighth. That's all I know, to be honest. Don't make me go further than that, because I simply couldn't tell you.” She grins, flashing those beautiful teeth. “I'm so glad you came.”

“Me, too.”

—

“Olive! You're here!” Helen shouts through the hatch of the Clubmobile. Climbing down the stairs, she greets her new friend with a hug. Not used to this much affection all at once, Olive basks in it, feeling her face glow.

“Morning, Helen. Thanks for fixing up the bed.”

“You're so welcome, Ol. Nobody will be itching in our house! Not on my watch.”

“You'd think that should be the nurse's job, but here we are.” Val says, her tone scathing as she leans on the counter, flicking through a new copy of Screen Romances, Laraine Day and Robert Young upon the cover, cheeks pressed together.

“Oh, I love Screen Romances,” Olive pipes up as Val reads through, that famous furrow brought out in concentration. “The gossip columns are savage.”

“Oh, they so are,” Val responds, looking up, her eyes rolling slightly. “I live for it. I love the cattiness, the scathing remarks. Ugh, wonderful. I'll let you know if anything juicy comes up,” she says, nodding towards the hatch. “Someone's here to see you.”

“Donut from the prettiest girl in East Anglia, please.”

“Hey, Dougie,” she blushes, leaning out of the truck slightly.

“Look at you,” he says, biting his lip a little. “Blue really is your color.”

“Oh, stop,” she replies, cheeks glowing even redder. “You're just angling for an extra donut.”

“Maybe,” he says, leaning up to meet her in the hatch. “And a kiss.”

“Well, handsome, I can only give you one of those things right now,” she says, a donut in hand. “Meatball hair free, too. Must be your lucky day.”

“It sure is. Can I get a coffee too? Just cream.”

“Coming right up. No sugar?”

“Not when you're around. I'm sweet enough on you.”

“Are you trying to make me keel over?” She scolds, pouring the coffee into the cup. Brow furrowed, she hands him the cup, followed by a quick smile.

“Jeez, too much time with Valencia already. You've got that furrow perfected.”

“Maybe it was always within her, James,” she shouts, head still buried in the magazine. “Little help from me, and you being insufferable brings the best furrows out in people.” Olive shakes her head, giggling at the banter between the two.

“Will you be at the club later?” Dougie asks, sipping the coffee.

“I assume so,” Olive shrugs. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” he teases, winking as he walks away.

“She's right,” Olive shouts from the Clubmobile. “You are insufferable.”

—

Both Dougie and Benny turn the second Olive enters the club, linked arm in arm with Val and Helen who stand either side of her. She meets the eyes of either man in turn, feeling her cheeks glow with that familiar heat the second she makes eye contact with Dougie.

“I saw that,” Helen teases as they sit down, the same table as the previous evening. “You smiled when you saw Benny…”

“Helen–” Olive cuts her off, her cheeks now red with embarrassment instead of the previous limerence.

“But I saw that twinkle in your eye when Dougie looked at you.”

Val nods enthusiastically, lighting a cigarette before offering one to her companions. Her attention on them is taken away the moment Everett walks up to the table, her eyes glowing as he greets her with a kiss on the cheek.

Olive feels a presence behind her, before a glass - an Old Fashioned - is put at her place on the table. She turns to see Dougie, standing behind her chair with a whiskey in his hand.

“Thanks,” she says, demurely, hoping that the blushing is now at bay.

“You owe me a dance later,” he says, winking as he walks back to the bar before she can even muster an answer.

“Does he always do that?” she asks, turning to Val and Ev. “Ask a question then piss off to the other end of the room?” The couple and Helen burst out laughing at her tone, still not quite used to Olive's dry British humor. Not able to contain her own laughter due to theirs, she tries to pull herself together to reiterate the question. Ev is the first to compose himself, Val dabbing at his eyes with her handkerchief as he gasps for air a final time.

“Nah, not always,” he finally says, looking for his friend at the bar. “He's just nervous, I think.”

—

Feeling a wet nose at her bare ankle, Olive squeals and finds Meatball under the table.

“Aaah, hi buddy!” she says, placing her drink on the table and beginning to pet him. “Were you good today? We missed you!”

“Speak for yourself,” Val mumbles under her breath as she reapplies her lipstick , only loud enough for Olive to hear, causing her to shoot her a glance and giggle. Making sure Benny didn't hear, she smiles up at him.

“Hi, Benny. How was your day?”

“Better now for seeing you. Let me get this fella squared away. D'you wanna dance?”

“Love to,” she grins, placing her jacket on her chair. Val winks at her as she exits, clutching Benny's arm as he gives the dog to Buck and a few men around him before leading her to the dancefloor.

“I'm warning you, Benny,” she begins as they begin to sway together. “I'm not much of a dancer. I hope you enjoyed having toes.”

“I'm just as bad, don't worry. Just wanted a moment alone with you.”

“That's sweet,” she replies, smiling as she places a hand on his shoulder.

“So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, thanks.” And she means it. It's the most fulfilled she's felt in years, these new people welcoming her and taking her under their wing. Everything that went wrong in London feels like a million light-years away; and being here, maybe it is. Benny narrows his eyes at her answer, trying to gauge any hint of sarcasm he may have missed. She shoves him playfully as they dance, giggling a little. “I'm being serious, Benny. It's exactly what I need.”

“If you say so,” he replies, smiling as he spins her away from him. With that spin, she crashes into none other than James Douglass, who automatically takes her in his arms.

“Dog needs taking out, Benny,” he teases, gripping Olive's hand. He quickly spins her to a new spot on the dancefloor and grins. “Told ya, you owed me a dance.”

“I didn't hear you asking, James,” she teases, feeling her cheeks flush as his hand lands on the small of her back. “It was more of a statement.”

“Right, right,” he says, breaking away. “Will you dance with me?”

“Yes, I will. But you'd better apologize to Demarco when he gets back.”

“Oh, I'm not sorry for anything, doll.” She tuts at him, letting him lead her nonetheless. Him touching her feels like lighting coursing through her veins, feeling her hair stand up on end. He moves closer as the band slows, their noses almost beginning to touch as they move in unison to the swelling music. Her inhale becoming his exhale, she moves and plants a soft kiss on his neck. She feels him gasp into her ear and it's enough to make her weak at the knees. Looking over his shoulder, she sees a light begin to flash red above the door.

“Hey,” she murmurs, gesturing towards the light with a movement of her head. “Does that mean something?” He turns and looks, his eyes suddenly downcast as he sighs.

“Ah, shit. Yeah.”

“I'll walk ya home,” Benny pipes up, suddenly behind them.

“Nah, I got it, Benny,” James replies, taking his grip off Olive.

“No,” Benny says, a little sternly. “I'll do it. Olive, you ready?”

“It's fine, I can–” she tries to say, but is once again cut off by incessant squabbling, the two men fighting like catty school children. Looking towards Val for help, Olive sees Everett talking to a man with big brown eyes, hair slicked back into a soft pomp, his body seemingly racked with anxiety. Everett and Val gently push him in Olive's direction, him ushering her away unnoticed.

“Thanks,” she sighs, staring into the pretty cow eyes of the man that rescued her.

“No problem. Harry Crosby,” he says, gesturing to himself, a hand on his chest as he introduces himself.

“Hey, Harry. Olive.” He stretches a hand out and she shakes it.

“I heard the commotion. I'm heading back to write to my wife. She would never let me live it down if I wasn't a gentleman to others. I'll walk ya home, Olive.”

“Oh, Harry. That's so kind. Thank you.”

As he holds the door open for her, she hears the arguing come to a sudden stop followed by a surprised “Crosby?!” and Val storming up to them. “Stupid boys,” is all she hears as she exits the club with Harry, her arm linked platonically with his.

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #Honeysuckle Rose #Olive Lewis #masters of the air x oc #benny demarco #James Douglass #everett blakely #oc: olive lewis #oc: valencia dirosano #just a snappin #time travel #1940s #ww2 #wwii #winnie writes

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

Text

Kaleidoscope: Bonding

In which it's been pretty easy to wrap both Jungkook and Jimin around your pretty little finger- but getting under Yoongi's skin? Now that's impressive.

Tags/Warnings: Alien! Jungkook, Alien!Jimin, Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, strangers to lovers, poly!AU, tentacles (lord forgive me for I will sin), long tongues and sharp teeth and horns and tails and who's even surprised anymore?

Additional Chapter Warnings: Yoongi becomes soft, fluff, mild Angst, Yoongi focus!

Length: short

Other content: Intro

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

"So, a human, huh?" Hoseok asks, walking next to his older friend in the grocery store. "Didn't you say you weren't ever gonna adopt one?" He wonders, and Yoongi shrugs.

"You know it's two versus one." He grumbles, looking through the fresh produce for the best vegetables and fruits. "Can't argue for long with them." He explains, while Hoseok leans on the shopping cart.

"Yeah but-" He watches his friend. "-a little birdie told me you've been growing awfully soft for your new pet as well." He teases.

"And that little birdie is Jimin I assume?" The older alien simply answers, putting some vegetables in the cart. "I'm simply taking care of her. That's the basics." He tries to justify, walking along the isles with his friend who had offered to help carry some stuff since Yoongi has been freshly out of surgery for his shoulder.

"Hm. True." The younger one agrees, watching as his friend puts several items into the cart.

"Can you get those things for me?" Yoongi asks after a moment, pointing towards some star and moon shaped meat buns.

"Youngling food?" Hoseok chuckles, giving him the package however to put it into the cart. "Why not buy the cheaper one's?" Hoseok wonders. "You've never been so easy to spend more money on anything you can get cheaper."

"She seems excited whenever I make them." Yoongi simply answers. "So I assume she enjoys eating them in this shape more than the regular ones for some reason."

Hoseok smiles impishly. "Simple basics, right?" He reminds his friend, who suddenly stares at the box of buns in his cart.

Huh.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

"Come here." Yoongi says after he's watched Jungkook try and get the hair tie out of your hair- with no luck. He's clearly scared of hurting you, and in a way, Yoongi can understand that. With a look of uncertainty thrown towards him from both Jungkook and you, Yoongi feels a bit called out. Why are they worried about him calling you over? "Come here, I'll do it." He tries again, and you look at his mate for a second, before you slowly walk closer.

Yoongi doesn't know how to really handle you.

He turns you around by your waist before he sets you down on his thigh, careful hands detangling your hair from the little rubber band. "Jungkook, get one of your hairties for her. Who the hell even gave her that thing?" He mumbles mostly to himself at the last part, an annoyed click leaving his throat. It's a common noise you've heard from the oldest Alien whenever he gets irritated- and it makes you squirm a bit where you sit, unsure if he's angry at you. "Sit still. I'm almost done." He scolds, making you freeze on the spot. "Ah, Jungkook, get a brush too! Gotta fix that bird's nest you've got there.." he murmurs, focused on not hurting you.

"I think that was still from the facility." Jungkook says as he gives his partner what he'd asked for, before he's called by Jimin.

"Sorry." Yoongi mumbles quietly when he notices you flinch a bit from the force he's using to brush out your hair now. He's careful, really- trying to be as gentle as possible. But he knows you're intimidated- your body language says it all.

It's hard not to feel a little envious of his mates when it comes to you.

You're very affectionate with them, clearly at easy and comfortable, while he himself always seems to make you nervous, and not in a good way. You're on edge, never relaxed, and he doesn't know how to properly fix that.

Once he's done fixing your hair, he sighs, putting everything on the table in front of the couch. "Tired?" He teases when you can't help but yawn, legs stretching a bit. You nod however, while he leans back against the pillows. "They can be a little loud." He refers to his mates, and you shrug, unsure what to answer to that.

You also don't know if you should get up, or stay.

"You wanna take a nap?" He asks, looking at you with a gaze you're not sure how to read. But you're tired, and Yoongi has always looked awfully comfortable to cuddle with- so you misunderstand a little, and move to do just that. Cuddle up to him on his lap, unable to see the way his eyes widen as he doesn't know where to put his hands now.

He's frozen, caught off guard, before one of his palms moves to rest on your back, gaze softening at your clear display of affection. You're actually.. kind of cute.

Yeah- he doesn't mind you at all, actually.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

Fear is something that you display quite differently than his own kind.

He's not sure if it's from being sheltered from certain situations in the laboratories, or if that's just how humans always act, but its definitely different.

He can hear you run around aimlessly, naked feet on the floor as you try and find a hiding place from the storm raging outside. It's not even a bad one - thunder and lightning accompanied by rain and wind, but it's not the worst he's seen in his life. But for you, it's like the world is ending. You've never seen storms before.

"What're you doing?" He calls out from his bed, both Jimin and Jungkook gone for a small trip to celebrate a friend's birthday, leaving you alone with Yoongi. You emerge after a moment or two, peeking around the corner of the door and Yoongi sighs. "What's wrong? You hungry or something?" He wonders, but you shake your head.

Thunder rumbles and it's clear to him now that you are, in fact, scared.

And you're also capable of making noises, it seems - a small squeak escaping your throat at the sudden sounds around you. He's always wondered why you wouldn't talk, but you understood him, and that was all he wanted for now.

But how is he gonna deal with you being scared now?

As soon as another thunder crashes, you've pretty much given him the answer.

You're now clinging onto him in his bed, shaking a little, and he sighs. You really do sometimes act like a literal youngling. Accepting it as your preferred method of sleeping now, he pulls you into his bed with him before laying down again to rest. It doesn't take long for you to fall back asleep next to him after he's made sure to let you sleep against the wall in the corner, his body blocking any sight of the windows for you.

Humans sleep very deeply, and it honestly freaked him out at first. But now, he only wants to make sure you're protected when you're vulnerable like that.

Yeah, he doesn't really mind you anymore.

He might even like you a little.

Just a little, though.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jimin imagine #yoongi imagines

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qhoaaaa · 1 year ago

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Milo with piercings and other features I imagine he has (and some hcs with Sweetheart hebehebeeheb)

Piercings!!/jewelry

He has them Dahlia piercings (lol) look them up they’re so cool

Has piercings on his ears, a few studs as well as a nose ring

Definitely buys different kinds of earrings and stuff to decorate his ears depending on the event

Brow piercing, especially on the right brow UGHH

They’re all gold colored, he also has some regular silver and black, has a few green colored studs as well

He’s gotta own a few gold chains (as a gold chain haver myself lmao), he keeps them in good condition

Sweetheart got him one as a gift and he teared up, kept asking them how much it was and they only said for him to not worry about it(it was expensive) - he wears it everyday and night and even in the shower

His neck sometimes gets nipped by the metal and when Sweetheart sees him bring a hand to rub at it, they ask, "Why don't you take it off?" And he says, "Eh, I don't wanna... it's from you, sure as hell I'm not gonna take it off."

Features:

Symmetrical beauty marks under his eyes (Sweetheart absolutely LOVESSS them, kisses his eyes a lot because of them), and on his cheeks too (genetics are INSANEEE)

Sharp canines,,, yesssss

Few patterned beauty marks on his shoulders

Most of his skin is just bare and smooth but Sweetheart loves when they see his beauty marks on his shoulders or his face when he’s taking a shirt off or resting

His back has a few long scars from sparring with the other wolves when he was younger, he didn’t want them healed fully, let them scar as a learning experience, Milo lets Sweetheart massage them or put a balm on them so the tissue doesn’t get weird, he feels all mushy (in a good way) when Sweetheart unexpectedly kisses down his scars (he makes sure to tell him it feels good too AWGWGW)

Really REALLY soft hands

Light chest hair (HSBSHS WORK WITH ME OKAY LET ME COOK)

Chest tattoo, it’s a singular design he made up himself (drew it and everything), it’s probably a symbol that’s important to him/his mother and his way to honor her, he has accompanying designs on his fingers

Tattoo of Sweetheart’s name on his nape (tell me that this wouldn’t look nice,, I’ll wait)

(Off topic but I saw a post where Marie and Colm have tattoos of Milo’s first paw prints of when he shifted for the first time and he would def do the same if he and Sweetheart have kids)

He and Sweetheart get ring tattoos on their ring fingers when discussing getting rings (I love that audio), they wear the actual rings on their thumbs

My personal opinion but he would not have grills ❌❌ (never liked those but to each their own !)

He has golden eyes (all wolves do and it’s just a variety of shades but his are golden golden and they’re so pretty, he wears brown contacts/Unempowereds see brown to cover the color)

Sweetheart has smile lines, they popped up after meeting and getting with Milo, Milo ADORES them

They used to hide their smile before meeting Milo, needless to say, they smile widely now, teeth and all and its the cutest to him, seeing that smile is how Milo knows that they're comfortable and relaxed and having fun

Theyre at least 6'3 , buff and curves THEY GOT IT ALL

Sweetheart works out at the gym semi regularly and Milo practically drools when he sees them and their muscles , they have long legs(LEG MUSCLES TOO) and he's all over them

Sweetheart loves his arms, no reason, they just do

They like to feel up and down his upper arms and his shoulders, he likes the touch

He has super curly black hair, got it from his mom (we love you Mama Greer) while most of his sisters have straight/wavy hair like their dad, no facial hair

He’s just reaaaaaalllllyyyty hot in general ouughhhhh 🫣🫣🫣

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted wolf boys #qhoa has words #OUGAHHAHH #he is def afrolatino #Mexican and Kenyan argrhfhf #and multilingual

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hannahmanderr · 1 year ago

Note

Vortex and Lance Thunder for the ask game.

(affectionately calling this friendship Weather Report)

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

"So do we have a deal? Because if not, I've got this Fenton... soup thingy and I'm not afraid to use it!"

Vortex simply glanced at the thermos in the trembling human's hand and yawned. The sound of his yawn echoed of the low rumblings of a summer thunderstorm. "Pleassssee. As if that... lowly devicccee could hold me a second time."

Lance's quivering intensified in tandem with the static in the air, but he steeled his jaw and kept the thermos firmly trained on the ghost. "Oh yeah? W-well, if it doesn't, then I'll just have to call Phantom to come take care of you!"

The clouds that formed Vortex's eyebrows arched upward. "The ghossst boy?" Like the child Prince didn't have enough to deal with, given those pesky Observants and their agendas. Not that Vortex would ever admit it, but young Phantom's power and spunky attitude had impressed him from the start. He'd never be... ugh, friends with the Prince, of course.

But did he really want to run the risk of ending up on his bad side again?

A gale-force breeze ruffled Lance's perfectly manicured hair as Vortex sighed. "And what would you have me... do again?" the ghost asked, still with an air of boredom.

"All you gotta do is tell me what the weather's gonna be." Lance hoped he didn't sound near as terrified as he felt. "I don't care what you do, as long as you don't tip off Phantom or - or the Fentons, or the hunter girl, or anyone! And not make some storm that ends up destroying the town or anything. That too."

Vortex put a hand to his chin. "A blank... canvassss, you say?" The idea certainly was tempting, even with the human's restrictions. "And... what would be in it for you?"

"A job," Lance replied immediately. "There's an opening out in Milwaukee. If I can impress them with my accurate weather 'predictions,' then they'll definitely hire me, and I can finally get out of this town for good! No more getting sent out into the field for ghost reports, no more getting my hair ruined by ghosts, no more nearly getting run over by the Fentons!"

"I do not know what a 'walkie' is or what milling has to do with it, but what would I get... onccce you obtain this job?"

Lance faltered. The idea of finally getting out of this ghost-ridden town had sent him into such an eager tizzy, the aftermath was something he hadn't considered.

And if he did get the job and went to Milwaukee only to start failing in his predictions...

He pinched his eyes shut and lowered the thermos. "I... suppose you could... come with me... but only if you agree to help me!" Carefully, he peeled one eye open the tiniest bit. "So... will you?"

Vortex hummed before bending down to the human's eye level. When he flashed a grin of wickedly sharp teeth at Lance, lightning crackled across his face. "Conssssider it a deal, human!"

#danny phantom #ask hannah #ask game #vortex #lance thunder #scarletsaphire #and thus began a beautiful friendship full of manipulation and lying and wacky weather

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yuxmemi-01 · 5 months ago

Text

Ch. 2 Crescent Moon

The Cullens

“How was school, love?” Brie asks as we make it into the house, “it was…strange. I met a girl and got to talk to her group of friends, they seemed okay.” I shrug my shoulders as I head up to my room.

Okay, firstly, the Cullens. An adoptive family, and bella is dating one of them. Who is Jasper and why is he so familiar? Why were they staring at me like that? Why was today so weird?!

I flop on my bed and ponder.

All of a sudden I get a flashback to my nightmare, That thing, its honey blonde fur… those eyes…those eyes! Thats why hes so familiar! He looks like the thing from my nightmare.

I shiver, the way he stared at me, we made eye contact…it felt like some sort of link. But why? Am I going insane? Probably.

I change my clothes and get my homework done, I even read a few chapters of a vampire novel to occupy my mind. Bad, bad idea. The nightmares only got worse.

This time, it was him, only his eyes were different, yellow—no, Golden. Like a predator chasing its prey, which was me, his eyes never once left me, I was tackled to the ground, his mouth opened wide and his teeth were sharp and big, I felt so insignificant as his mouth rushed to my neck, then I woke up.

“Damnit!” I shake my head.

“Tuesday mornings, gotta love em.” I get out of my new cold and comfortable bed to enter that muggy hell hole.

The students are Always so loud…

Jasper Pov

That girl…who was she? And why did she smell…different? I would have done something unspeakable, and at the time, it felt like it would be worth it. To drain her body of everything, she smelled so…so sweet, so fragrant, so appealing. I throw my head backwards in my chair. What is wrong with me? I need to get a grip!

“Its not unusual you know?” In my doorway was Edward, this prick.

“It would be lovely if you could stop picking my brain. Thanks.” I roll my eyes. “Thats how I felt the first time I met Bella, it wont do you any good to run, trust me—I know.” He smirks at me.

“This is serious! How am I going to survive a day without wanting to—eat her!?”

“You can get used to it, the urges will go away sometimes, and come back other times, but youre in control.” He walks closer and pats my shoulders. “Sometimes isnt good enough! And why are you talking about her as if we’ve already established a relationship?”

He looks at me with a look only we know—“Alice.” We both say in unison, should have known.

“As you heard earlier today, her name is Abril Torrez. Shes from Peurto Plata, Dominican Republic and she loves purple, and books, shes a softy once you get under that hard shell, fun to be around—shes a delight Jaz, youre all gonna love her!”

She blabbers on and on about this Abril girl, I could care less about, shes just made it harder for me to stay in control, as if it wasnt hard enough already. Just thinking of her—my throat is so dry it burns!”

“Guh! We need to go hunting now! Before I make a run for it.”

Abril Pov

I cant wait until this week is over, these clothes are unbelievably unbearable! Its like my legs are being held captive and put on display!

Me and Bella talk Majority of first hour, it was nice to have someone calm to talk to, she was so nice and cool, in an older sister kind of way.

I really want this friendship to work, not like the other ones.

Time flies and eventually im face to face with the door to fourth hour, I take a deep breath and step in. Hes there, in all his glory, just like yester…day?

His eyes…! Theyre Golden?

His face contorts to confusion as I sit down, he wont stop staring, theres only so much eye contact I can avoid, is he looking at my face? I adjust myself and my hair to cover my cheeks as I put my head down.

Jasper Pov

Why was she so taken aback? Was she expecting me not to be here? She’s uncomfortable. I shift the atmosphere to make her a bit more approachable, shes still shy, she uses her hair to cover her face, now that I think about it, I’ve never paid attention to her as a whole, I only viewed her as a vessel of sweet—no.

Ill try to put what Alice said into practice.

Her hair, its a dark brown with nice shiny coils, it has volume and looks good with her brown skin complexion. Her eyes are a soft slanted almond, big but subtle at the same time…her lips, full and two toned, her body is what every girl would dream of, curvaceous yet slim, she wears a silver necklace with an initial, ‘B’ who is B?

Why should I care?

“How are you today?” I say to her, she jumps in response, I have to tone her down just a bit more. Her shoulders relax as she tries to generate a response. “Im doing okay for a Tuesday…” she starts to slide the B initial on her necklace back and forth. “Sorry I didnt speak yesterday, I was a bit crabby.” I chuckle to loosen the mood.

“Its okay, everyone has their days.” She looks up at me and offers a soft smile. If I had a working heart it would have fluttered, her heart shaped face was hit with the light above us, her eyes seemed to grow brighter when her eyes met mine.

I couldn’t bring myself to look away from them…

“Who is B, if you dont mind me asking.” I look down at the necklace in between her index and thumb. “Oh, my Godmother, her name is Brie.” Her tone had nothing but gratitude and adoration in it. “You sound very fond of her.” She laughed softly. “I am. Shes an amazing woman.”

How sweet, Alice was right, thinking of someone as a person does help the thirst, I need to apologize.

The day goes by as normal, only there was this urge to get to know more, it was an itch that needed to be scratched—to know everything about her, why is that?

A woman later came at the end of the day to pick Abril up, the one Im, guessing is her godmother—Brie she said, like the cheese, how weird.

I followed the car far behind in the woods, I took a mental note of her address and left. I made my mind up, im going to learn as much as possible about her so i can fight these urges, this is how ill cope.

Who are you Abril? And why am I so drawn to you?

#ao3 #twilight saga #fanfic #romance #angst #slowburn #twilight #jasper hale #the cullens #Spotify

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willowbirds · 10 months ago

Note

For the character ask! Fearne please: 5, 7, and 12~ :3

Fearne my beloved :3 (I go a little bonkers)

What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Depends. I often think of the song Envy Green by the Arcadian Wild because of an Imogearne animatic I want to do in the future, and I also think of Lara Lynn’s cover of Wolf Like Me cover which was on Fearne’s playlist (Ashley Johnson is a genius).

Lately, I’ve been thinking of the song Passerine by the Oh Hellos, mainly because it’s a song I put in my Cyberpunk AU playlist specifically for her.

Honestly I have a lot of songs I think about, but those are the main 3.

What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

The art is spectacular! I don’t see her a lot in fics and I don’t see any takes on her either (Which I’m happy about because I’ve read bad takes on the other witches and I’m glad I haven’t seen that for Fearne), but THE ART!! It’s so pretty! As a design, Fearne can be interpreted in so many ways! And all are so good!

Fearne with square goat pupils, Fearne with different types of horns, Fearne with a goat beard, Fearne with a giant fluffy dress, Fearne in a not so fluffy dress, Fearne with a goat nose, Fearne with a human nose, Fearne with long ears, Fearne with face patterns, the list goes on and on and I LOVE IT!

I obviously have my own preferences for my particular Fearne design, but I love that she is a character that can be interpreted in any way imaginable!

What's a headcanon you have for this character? (I know this says ‘A’ meaning one, but I’m gonna do what I want!)

I surprisingly don’t have a lot of head canons for Fearne, but I’ll give the small ones I have.

I imagine she is ambidextrous, either just in general or through practice. Gotta be able to use both hands when you’re stealing things.

She has fangs and a little tooth gap. The gap is just a fun little design choice I came up with and the fangs are something I think fits her Druidic nature. The fangs are different from Laudna having sharp teeth since for her they’re just sharper while for Fearne it’s because of the natural animalistic magic she has. (And yes, I also head canon that Keyleth has fangs too, although Fearne’s are much more animal-like)

My main head canon though is that Fearne has blue blood. Technically this was disproven when Matt Mercer described her blood being crimson when she was killed by Otohan, but I still hold sapphire blood Fearne close to my heart! (I could go on a rant about the exact reasons I head canon this, but that would probably be a different post)

I obviously have others, but I think 3 is enough for this post (If someone else asks me this I’ll add some others).

#I fuckin LOVE Fearne so much! I love being able to just talk about her!#I love all the witches equally (I say having Fearne as my Pfp and having her plushie)#critical role #fearne calloway #ask games

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tiredassmage · 2 years ago

Note

“shielding the other one with their body “ for any ship who pipes up 👀

This one has been taunting me for ages and I finally put the idea I had about it down, but endings???? Who is she??? Can't figure out how to end this one because I had a single cute scene in my head and the technicalities of what they're doing is definitely above me, but it's also above Cee, so I guess it works? xD

[touch prompts]

x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Why the kriff did we agree to this?” Cee hissed shakily as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Relax,” Oliver murmured against her hair, “We’re almost there, I promise.”

“Right,” she ground through her teeth. “'Just relax.' One bad step and we both go plummeting to our deaths. You sure got a lot of faith in me, spyboy.”

She was pressed up against him on a pitiful excuse for a walkway on the top of some hideout or another - the details from his debrief were escaping her at the moment. Thinking about anything that wasn’t the warmth of his chest against her back right now was liable to make her nauseous.

He chuckled lightly, but steadied a hand on her hip as she reached for the next ladder. “All you gotta do is jack me in to that panel, remember? The rest is all me.”

“Mmhhm,” Cee hummed. She wrapped her hands tighter around the polls as she pulled upwards. She could see it now. Just a little more. “If I fall, Oli-”

“I know, I know, you’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he said. As promised, he was right behind her every step of the way.

She leaned back into his steadying hold for support as she started to finally haul herself up onto the narrow platform.

“Risha, we’re almost in position,” he reported.

“Delightful. Standing by. Try not to die.”

“Risha!” Cee hissed.

“Focus, baby,” Oli encouraged, “She’s just trying to lighten your nerves.”

“Real funny way of doin’ it,” Cee complained, carefully lowering herself to sit on the platform with her feet dangling free and her back against the panel wall. Nar Shadaa’s lights danced energetically in all directions and she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Who the kriff thought it was alright to hide a security panel all the way up here? Probably hoping anyone plummeted to their deaths at some point. It’d keep all those Cartel secrets safe or… something.

“Hey,” Oliver said carefully, eyeing her as he set out a datapad beside her. “Stick with me, alright?”

She nodded, but her wide eyes didn’t move from the depths of the city.

“Help me with this wire, yea?” Cee finally blinked as Oliver braced carefully against the ladder. “I need you to hook us in. The data spike should be in-”

She scooted a bit closer to rustle through the inner pockets of his jacket. A mild frown of concentration flickered across his lips. “I think- Other side, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Not what I would’ve planned for our honeymoon,” she muttered, noticing out of the corner of her eye the way his lips shifted into an amused smile doubtlessly due to the flush rising to her cheeks.

Sure enough, she located their data spike in his other pocket. “I’ll get you something nice, once we’re done with this job,” he said. Cee squinted at him, leaving him an opening to press a quick kiss against her nose that made her stick out her tongue. He merely smirked before he nodded to the panel. “Now, let’s crack open that panel and see what we’ve got.”

“You owe me so big for this, Oli. Tell that jackass back at command-”

“Into that top right spot there.” He shifted how he was braced to indicate a socket near a small, blinking light. “Alright.” He eyed the datapad set out beside her on the walkway. “Give me a minute to get into the network. Risha?”

“Starting to come through. Filter out the garbage and I’ll forward what they want.”

“Yup.”

“D’you… I dunno, want up here instead?”

Oliver quirked a brow without moving his eyes from the datapad. “Nah. Unless you want to-?”

“No, no, I’m. I’m good,” Cee shook her head and puffed out a sharp, short breath. “I’m not going back down there alone.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s what I thought. We’re almost done, I promise.”

“Right.” Cee gripped the edge of the platform until her knuckles were white. “Oli? Just keep talking to me.”

“Alright then,” he said with a light shrug. “Where did you want to go?”

“Huh?”

“Nar Shadaa’s obviously off your list,” he said with the flicker of an amused smile. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Uhm… Somewhere warm, for one,” Cee mused. “I have had enough of this snowy blizzard planet nonsense.”

“No romantic returns to Hoth then,” he teased. “Got it.” Cee stuck her tongue out briefly. “Hurry up, spyboy. They’re gonna start missin’ us up here and I am not going to try to run on all of these narrow little death traps.”

"I'd still be right behind you," Oli offered.

She finally eased into a smile. "I know."

#answered #touch prompts #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #vs: king and lionheart [smuggler!tyr]#dot words #ch: cee #i love them your honor

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isaacapatow · 1 year ago

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* * JUNKYARD CONVO WITH @davxdalexander

ike has a change of location to make and enlists david.

ike apatow: -he'd been setting out to head across town to locate David, but happened to see him walking towards the watch tower; Ike puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles, loud and sharp- Hey! Davey-boy. You got a minute?

David Alexander: -David is rather annoyed that his shoulder had to be rebandaged and has taken up some shifts at the guard tower so he can feel useful. He's about to approach one when he hears the loud whistle and spots Ike. His route redirects so he can approach the head raider- Yeah, Ike, how can I help ya?

ike apatow: I got a little errand I wanna ... -trails off as he sees the way David's holding his shoulder- You hurt?

David Alexander: What?....Oh, -he stops as he looks at his shoulder- Yeah, it's fine. Just the old bullet wound I took for Zack acting up. I'm fine. What's the errand?

ike apatow: I want somebody to help me carry some stuff.

David Alexander: Ahh....-damn he was gonna kill Zack- How much stuff?

ike apatow: -he walks back towards his doorway, nudging a military duffle with his sneaker- That. There's two bags, I can manage the other one but not both and I'd rather get 'em both shifted at once.

David Alexander: -David glances at the doorway and the bags. Oh those wouldn't be bad- I can take the other. It's no big deal.

ike apatow: -blowing out a grateful breath- Thanks, man. That's helpful. -he leans inside to grab the other bag, bigger and bulkier, shifting it on his shoulder till it's in a more comfortable position- We gotta head outside, so - front gate.

David Alexander: -David gives him a nod and waits for Ike to grab one of the bags before grabbing the other and slinging it over his shoulder. He adjusts to just to make sure it's not gonna slip and fall before nodding- So, how far out are we headin'?

ike apatow: Ginny's house by the graveyard. Not that far. -glances over as they walk- Zack still sharpening his teeth on you? He keeps jumping me every chance he goddamn gets.

David Alexander: Yep. -he feels a slight relief that the place they're going is not far at all- You're not the only one. He likes to take his shots out on the bad shoulder any chance he gets.

ike apatow: -grunts, shaking his head- I don't know what's up with that guy. He skipped getting his rabies shots.

David Alexander: I don't know if it's that. He's got something going on but fuck if I know what it is. Other than he thinks just about all of us are inept in our jobs.

ike apatow: He's pretty vocal about that, yeah. You, uh ... you got any ideas on how to handle him?

David Alexander: Working on it. Right now he's extra abrasive because of the Daybreakers shit. I'm currently just not giving him any ammunition.

ike apatow: Okay. -shifts his bag around a bit as they reach the front gates-

David Alexander: -David casts Ike a look as the gates open to let them out- So what's with the trip to Ginny's old place?

ike apatow: It's not a trip. I'm moving.

David Alexander: To outside the walls? Ya sure that's a good idea?

ike apatow: You think it was all right for Ginny to live there and not a seasoned raider like me? -cocks a grin at David as they head out the gates and the guards pull them shut- I'll be fine, Davey. Besides, people come out to the graveyard all the time, and the watchtower's right there. Nothing to worry about.

David Alexander: Honestly I didn't like the idea of her staying out here either. It's too risky outside for anyone.

ike apatow: Well, not for me, it isn't.

David Alexander: I know better than trying to argue with ya, Ike. Just expressing my own concerns is all.

ike apatow: Listen! I wanted you to help me move because I specifically wanted somebody who wouldn't care. Don't be concerned about me and ruin my assumptions, gawd dammit. -he doesn't break stride, but he leans over slightly to bump into David a bit as they walk up to the cottage-

David Alexander: -David originally just glanced at Ike, confused a bit, but when he nudged him he realized the connotation and nodded with a soft huff of a laugh under his breath- Alright, alright, I'll stop ruining your vision.

ike apatow: Thank god. -they reach the gate, and Ike sticks his hand under the duffle strap without waiting for David to hand it over, tugging it off David's shoulder himself- All right. Thanks for the assist, man, even with your shoulder and all.

David Alexander: -David comes to a stop and lets Ike pull the bag off his shoulder. He nods at him and sticks his hands in his pockets- Yeah, o'course. Happy to help where I can.

ike apatow: -opening the gate, Ike trots inside, although when it comes to angling himself through the front door while neglecting to take off at least one of the bags, he gets stuck and struggles for a minute before swearing loudly and eventually managing, giving David a salute before he shuts it-

#with: david #c: dav004

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clonedchaos · 8 months ago

Text

Handler for the Untamable Chapter 1

Rating: T for canon-typical violence

Book Summary:

“I’m sorry, Ms. Dawson. But it’s out of my hands. The asset has been deemed far too erratic for such training. Look, I know you’re a capable young woman. But maybe… maybe this is something you need to let go,” My boss’s eyes bored into my own, matching it in flaming intensity. He was serious about this, wasn't he?

I could feel my fists curling tightly below the desk. It wasn’t fair. Putting her in isolation? What good would that do for her, or anyone at the park? I made a decision then and there. When faced with an impossible task, I wouldn’t give up. Didn't he know that? I can prove myself. I just gotta.

I raised my head, a defiant fire bursting forth from my gaze. Mr. Masrani leaned forward in his chair with an intent look. The room felt suffocating, like we were both holding our breath for what I was going to say next. But I knew I had to say something. Finally, I spoke my conviction.

“I WILL be the Indominus Rex’s trainer. No matter what this job entails or throws my way, I’m not giving up on her… Someday I hope you choose to do the same.”

Tumblr Version: ~Enjoy!~

Journal Entry #Whocaresanymore: December 19th, 2015

Okay, I don’t have a lot of time to write this, so I'll make it quick.

Everything has fallen apart.

Indie broke out of containment. She’s on a rampage.

I don’t know how many losses we’ve suffered. Frankly, I don’t want to know.

The guests are flying off the handle. Couldn’t blame ‘em.

’We pride ourselves on the safety of our guests and our animals’. That’s what the higher ups always told us. That’s what they told the guests.

I should’ve known there was something going on from the start. Something deeper to all of this.

We played God. Now, we’re paying the price for human ignorance.

Every. Single. One of us.

Masrani is dead.

InGen is taking over…

Hoskins thinks he’s in charge. And I just— He shouldn’t be!

God, and now we’re scrambling to pick up the pieces of HIS mess!

First, he wants me to retire from my job as Indie’s trainer. Now, he’s bent on the notion that the raptors can kill her.

I couldn’t let that happen. I should’ve, after everything that has happened, but…

I couldn’t.

I guess this is my fault. All my fault.

…I don’t know what to do… What can I do?

Will fleeing from our problems really solve them? Doubtful.

Owen can’t placate the raptors any longer, and I can’t get through to my own Rex.

We’re outsiders to her and her new pack. We’re in her territory now.

We’re her prey.

I practically raised her. Trusted her.

Whatever bond we made after all those months… It’s gone now.

I want to help her. I really do. But that doesn't seem like a viable option right now...

I can only hope that we make it

“Jordan!” A sharp, alarmed scream hurls me right out of my journal and back into reality. The van slammed on its brakes, violently jerking me forward. The seatbelt chokes me around the collar and chest as the breath draws out of my lungs.

My journal tumbled off my lap and into the floorboards below. I thrust my arms out and onto the dashboard before I could slam my head against the windshield. Getting a concussion wasn’t on my list of things to have happen to me today— besides I was about 80% sure I had one already judging from my splitting headache.

Thanks, Delta.

”Natalie!” I snapped out through bared teeth as my brown, curled hair obscured my vision. My glasses slipped right off my nose and joined my journal in the depths of the van. I cursed under my breath, wishing I had extra contacts in my bag for the day’s catastrophe. But, alas, I was practically blind as a bat at the moment.

I leaned down and began to fumble around for the specs. At this late an hour, in the middle of the jungle, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack… if that needle was practically invisible.

Natalie, my alleged partner-in-crime, sat in the driver’s seat. She was a decent enough driver when it came to rougher terrain. I had seen her tactfully navigate around the rocks and dips in the jungle roads in order not to disturb the injured dinosaurs in the back of her medical vehicle. ‘I make this jungle trek look smooth as butter’, she’d proudly claimed one day.

Right now, though…? I think I’ve met rookie sixteen-year-olds that could drive better than her. But, I was in no state to be driving or complaining— which she had told me three times already—, so I had to live with her occasional stops or sharp turns around the tighter bends. I only wanted to hurl maybe once or twice. Perhaps writing my latest journal entry while speeding like a missile through the backroads wasn't such a good idea. But I needed to write my thoughts somewhere.

People needed to know what I had seen. What I had experienced.

Natalie reached a hand over to roughly shake my arm as I continued to search. Her other hand was currently wrapped in a death grip around the steering wheel; it had been ever since the raptors got loose in the jungle. It would take a will of steel to be able to rip her from it. Or, a dinosaur.

“Jordan—“ She stammered in a thick British accent, her words coming out as a strangled croak.

”What?” I groaned in exhaustion and mild annoyance as my fingers felt along the smooth glass of my spectacles. Aha! I snatched them up and quickly placed them back in its proper position, while making sure to brush the hair out of my face with a hand so that I could see better. Smudged, but not broken.

When I turned over toward the paleo-veterinarian beside me, I found she was looking off into the distance with a petrified, blank stare. The van’s headlights scoured across the jungle floor before us and gifted a ghostly hue to the trees surrounding the path. Up ahead was a tight bend in the road, a clear safety hazard under such dim lights and no proper signage. The headlights were not the best in terms of night vision, but it was better than driving around in the pitch black with hungry, bloodthirsty dinosaurs on the loose.

I squinted in the direction Natalie was concentrated on. There was nothing there but the gentle, rhythmic sway of the leaves. I rolled the window down and reached out quickly with a hand before pulling it back into the safety of the vehicle. No wind.

I couldn’t see her at first. Then again, who really could? She was good at fooling people. That much I knew all too well.

The Indominus Rex was deathly silent, with astonishing camouflage to boot, when she wanted to be. We all learned that lesson the hard way.

The blotched greens, blacks, and browns of the forestry ahead of us began to shift and ripple as if they were alive. A large, mottled muzzle peeks out from the branches and into the shaft of light. As the light shone upon its scaly surface, the skin is revealed to be a stark white. Albino. A rarity in the animal kingdom. Well, amongst dinosaurs, at least. And it was certainly a distinction from the shadows crowding the undergrowth and the night sky above.

A low rumble sent gentle vibrations along a watery ditch just beside the path. The clear signal of something approaching, something big. Fifty feet tall, to be more precise.

The theropod drew nearer, allowing us to see her in full scope. Her large, serrated claws; her gnarled, crooked fangs that glistened and dripped with scarlet red drops of blood; her cold, reptilian stare. I shuffled in discomfort at the sight of her broken teeth and disheveled appearance. No one had taken care of her.

The large theropod took a step closer and leaned down, her large head tilting sideways like a curious bird. Her eyes resembled the crackling embers of a dying fire.

She silently sized us up with the gaze of an apex predator as she swiveled her head side to side. Even if she couldn't see us physically-- which I knew she could-- she would no doubt be able to see us via our heat signatures.

Why would a genetically engineered dinosaur designed for a theme park need the ability to detect thermal radiation? Ask Dr. Wu. I'm sure he could go on for hours about it-- if he was even still alive.

"Jordan..." Natalie whispered as she leaned as far away from the windshield as her seat would allow. Her hand still hadn't given up its iron grip on the steering wheel.

I didn’t hear her. I was rooted to my seat, my nails digging gouges into its leather exterior. My heart thumped loudly in my ears. It was almost deafening.

The Indominus Rex blinked, her third eyelid shutting sideways like a reptile. Natalie was a mere afterthought for her. I was her target. And she was wired with every primal instinct to kill.

Once, I was her alpha. Perhaps her mother.

I cared for her. Nurtured her.

Now, she was to be my demise.

Indie roared, the sound a thunderous boom amongst the panicked silence. Natalie screamed and shielded her ears with her palms. I flinched at the sheer volume but forced myself to hold my head high.

Where did it all go wrong? Was there simply one moment that changed everything? Could I have prevented it if I’d done something different? Or was it all a mere cascade of inevitable events that changed the course of Jurassic World’s “perfect and safe utopia.”

Hmm. Now that…

Maybe, that's a tale to tell from the beginning?

I’m Jordan Dawson. And this is my story…

#jurassic world ocs #jurassic world fanfic #Cloned's Jurassic World fanfics #Jordan Dawson oc #Natalie Lancaster oc #Indominus Rex #Indominus Rex trainer fanfic #canon typical violence #oc x oc #alternate universe #ao3 #not beta read #lgbt pride #Indominus deserved better :(#Handler for the Untamble

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