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wolvietxt · 6 months ago

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𝓢OFT 𝓔DGES !

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : fluff, slight hurt / comfort wc : 1.7k a/n : little filler fic while i write my logan series :3

the first time it happened, neither of you really knew how.

it was late, the fire burned low, and most of the group had already shuffled off to bed. you were sitting across from daryl, neither of you talking much, just existing in the shared quiet that came easier than most things did nowadays. the crackle of embers filled the silence between you, soft and soothing.

you glanced at him, his face half-lit by the dying light, shadows carving out the planes of his features. his posture was as rigid as ever, shoulders tight, hands fidgeting with the frayed edge of his shirt sleeve. he caught your gaze and raised a brow, muttering, “what?”

“nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “just… you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

his scoff was soft. “look who’s talkin’.”

you couldn’t argue with that. sleep had been a luxury lately, the kind of thing you thought about wistfully but rarely indulged in. the weight of exhaustion pressed heavy on you both, worn into your bones, but neither of you made a move to head inside.

“guess we’re both a mess,” you murmured.

his lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile but close enough. “yeah. guess so.”

you fell silent again, but the stillness wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… familiar. in a way, it felt like company - good company - was the only thing holding you together some nights. eventually, the fire died down completely, and the chill of the night crept in.

you rubbed your arms, shivering a little. daryl’s eyes flicked to you briefly before he stood up, muttering, “c’mon. it’s cold.”

you blinked at him. “what?”

“you stay out here, you’re gonna freeze,” he said, already heading towards the small cabin the group had claimed for the night.

you followed him inside, mostly out of confusion, and found yourself lingering as he dropped onto the cot he’d claimed earlier. his boots hit the floor with a dull thunk, and he looked over at you, brows furrowing.

“you just gonna stand there?”

“where else am i supposed to go?” you asked, crossing your arms.

he huffed, shoving himself to the far side of the cot. “ain’t rocket science. there’s room here.”

your eyes widened slightly. “you want me to - ”

“didn’t say i want nothin’,” he interrupted, voice low. “just figured you’d be better off not sleepin’ on the damn floor.”

there was no real way to argue with that, so you swallowed your hesitation and perched awkwardly on the edge of the cot. he didn’t say anything, just rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over himself.

you laid down slowly, keeping as much space between you as you could on the narrow cot. it was fine - quiet, awkward, but fine - until you started to drift off, and your hand brushed against his.

you tensed immediately, but he didn’t move away. didn’t say anything either. the warmth of his skin seeped into yours, grounding in a way you didn’t know you needed. after a moment, you let your fingers curl slightly, brushing against his again.

he shifted just enough to press his palm against yours.

you fell asleep like that, hands barely touching, and woke up with his arm slung over your waist, your head tucked under his chin.

after that night, it happened more often than not.

you didn’t talk about it - didn’t need to. daryl wasn’t the kind of man who used words to explain himself, and you weren’t exactly great at starting conversations either. the first few nights, you both kept a respectful distance, careful not to overstep. but over time, the gaps closed.

he didn’t pull away when your hand found his again. he didn’t flinch when your head rested against his shoulder. and when his arm looped around your waist to pull you closer, you didn’t hesitate to lean into him, letting his steady warmth soothe the ache in your chest.

it became routine.

no matter how long the day was or how much tension lingered between you during the hours of sunlight, when the night came, you ended up tangled together. neither of you really had to say it, but the need was mutual - silent and unspoken, but mutual.

one night, you found yourself tracing the faint scars on his forearm, your fingers light as a feather. he didn’t stop you, just watched in silence. when you looked up at him, his gaze was unreadable, softer than you’d ever seen.

“what?” you whispered.

he shook his head, barely perceptible. “nothin’.”

but his arm tightened around you, and he pulled you closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. you didn’t press further. whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t ready to share it yet, and that was okay.

because lying there, wrapped up in him, was enough.

the run had gone sideways before it even really started.

what was supposed to be a simple supply run had turned into a mess of bad luck and bad timing. walkers everywhere, collapsing buildings, and the kind of chaos that left your adrenaline buzzing long after you’d made it back to camp.

daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight the whole time, his hand shooting out to grab your arm or yank you behind him whenever things got too close for comfort. not that you needed him to - years of surviving on your own had sharpened your instincts - but he didn’t seem to care.

“next time, yer stayin’ behind,” he grumbled as the two of you stumbled through the front gates, the night air heavy with tension.

“like hell,” you shot back, wiping blood and grime off your face.

he glared, but the exhaustion in his eyes dulled the edge. “ain’t arguin’ with ya right now.”

fine by you. you were too tired to argue either, and the ache in your legs was proof enough that you needed rest. by the time you both trudged into the cabin, the rest of the group had settled down, their voices distant murmurs.

you kicked your boots off and dropped onto the cot without much thought, your body already anticipating the pull of sleep. daryl hovered for a moment, watching you with an unreadable expression before sitting down heavily beside you.

“you okay?” he asked gruffly, his voice softer than usual.

“i’m fine,” you muttered, though your hands were still trembling slightly.

he didn’t look convinced. “you sure? looked like you were ‘bout to - ”

“i’m fine, daryl.” you cut him off, sharper than you meant to.

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t push further. instead, he let out a rough sigh and leaned back, his weight shifting the cot just enough that you felt it.

the silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until you finally broke it.

“you didn’t have to keep pulling me out of trouble, you know.”

he snorted, leaning down to untie his boots. “yeah, i did.”

you turned your head to look at him, confused. “why?”

he shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “’cause if somethin’ happened to ya, i’d lose my damn mind.”

the admission hung in the air between you, uncomfortably raw. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. instead, you shifted closer, hesitating for a moment before resting your hand on his arm.

he stilled, his eyes flicking down to where your fingers brushed against his skin.

“you don’t have to worry about me,” you said softly. “we’re both still here. that’s what matters.”

he scoffed, though it lacked any real bite. “ain’t that simple.”

“why not?”

he turned his head to look at you, the shadows in his eyes deeper than you’d ever seen. “’cause it just ain’t.”

your hand slid down his arm until your fingers found his, curling around them. his hand tensed briefly before relaxing, his grip tightening around yours like he was afraid to let go.

“you don’t have to carry everything alone, you know,” you whispered.

“ain’t got a choice,” he muttered, his voice low.

“you do,” you said firmly, shifting closer until your forehead rested against his shoulder. “you’ve got me.”

for a moment, he didn’t respond, the weight of your words pressing heavy against him. but then his free arm looped around your waist, pulling you into him in a way that felt both protective and vulnerable.

“yeah,” he said quietly. “guess i do.”

the tension in the room eased slightly, though the vulnerability lingered. you stayed like that for a while, your head on his shoulder, his arm around you, until the chill of the night seeped in and you both shifted to lie down.

as you settled against him, your head on his chest and his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, you felt the faint tremor in his hand as it rested on your back.

“you’re shaking,” you murmured.

“ain’t nothin’,” he muttered.

you didn’t call him out on it, but you didn’t pull away either. instead, you let your fingers trace idle patterns along his arm, your touch light but deliberate.

“daryl,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper.

“what?”

“i mean it. you don’t have to do this alone. not anymore.”

his breath hitched slightly, and you felt him press his face into your hair, his grip on you tightening.

“ain’t used to this,” he admitted, his voice muffled. “don’t even know what the hell i’m doin’ half the time.”

you tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes searching his face. “you’re doing fine.”

his lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “that so?”

“yeah,” you said, resting your head back against his chest. “better than fine, actually.”

he huffed softly, the sound somewhere between disbelief and relief.

“you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, his fingers brushing lightly along your spine.

you smiled against his shirt, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. “so are you.”

the two of you fell silent after that, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you both. but as you drifted off, tangled together in a way that felt more like home than anything else ever had, you couldn’t help but think that maybe - just maybe - you were finally starting to understand what it meant to not be alone.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi, @omen-keke, @hhiggs

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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jayden-killer · 1 year ago

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Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make you guys forgive me!!

Dark.

And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,700 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a…

"Child?"

The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!"

With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least.

"Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where she was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.

"It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied:

"Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!"

"I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply.

"Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse.

I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it.

"Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back.

"HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands.

"What the f...?!"

"You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

#dr. stone #senku #dr stone x reader #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami x reader #senku ishigami #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ryusui x reader #anime imagines #anime and manga #anime x reader #gen asagiri #imagine #one shot #sfw

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bunji-enthusiast · 3 months ago

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Yarnaby's Runaway

request by @jessicawesker83, hello!! finally got this done, I really like doing this one.

The sudden jolt of waking up from an unsettling, cold sleep left you disoriented. The sterile, suffocating smell of the lab was overwhelming, and the blaring white lights overhead felt like a spotlight searching for something you couldn’t quite place. The last thing you remembered was being on a field trip with your classmates, touring a science museum—or was it a research facility? No, that didn’t seem right now. As your eyes opened fully, you realized the absence of any familiar faces. In fact, there was no one at all. The place was eerily quiet, only interrupted by the occasional hum of machinery and distant, unintelligible voices.

You tried to move but found your body sluggish, your muscles stiff, as though they had been frozen in time. Your breath quickened. Where am I?

You bolted upright, panic sinking in as the reality of the cold, metal surroundings hit you like a ton of bricks. Rows of metal tables lined the walls, covered in sheets and strange equipment you had never seen before. It wasn’t a field trip anymore. I need to get out of here.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to your feet, unsure of how you even ended up in such a place. As you made your way toward the exit, you felt the ground tremble beneath your feet—something large, something heavy, moving nearby. You instinctively ducked behind a table, eyes wide with fear. You heard the shuffle of footsteps, clumsy yet unmistakably large, growing nearer.

Then, from the shadows, you saw it.

A massive, strange lion-like creature lay on a pile of discarded bodies. The sight made your stomach churn, a mix of confusion and disgust flooding your mind. The bodies—were they... human? Some still bore the remnants of clothing, others marked with deep gashes and wounds. It wasn’t the bodies themselves that caught your eye, though, but the creature sleeping atop them.

Its fur was unlike anything you had ever seen—vibrant, multicolored yarn that looked almost cartoonish. The creature’s mane, wild and untamed, was a garish blend of hues, stretching across the floor. And though it resembled a lion in size and shape, it had no tail. Instead, its limbs seemed to stretch and twist with every movement, its paws resembling the features of an old ragdoll, only much darker.

You hid behind the nearest table, your breath catching in your throat as you slowly realized that this thing, this monster, was the very reason you were here. You had been kidnapped. Taken, like all those who had disappeared. And now, it is coming for you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing. You had to find a way out of here. Slowly, cautiously, you peered around the corner to see the creature stirring, sniffing the air with a soft, almost playful sound.

It sniffed the air again. A low growl rumbled from its throat, and its massive eyes flickered open. There was a strange innocence behind them, a playful gleam that didn’t match the bloodstained scene around it. Was it looking for me?

The creature’s nostrils flared as it sniffed again, its gaze now scanning the area. Slowly, it rose, its massive frame looming over the dead bodies, the yarn of its fur bristling as it moved. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

What do I do?

A shiver ran down your spine as the creature began moving toward you, its steps heavy and deliberate. Every inch of its monstrous form seemed to radiate an eerie calm, despite the death surrounding it. You couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t entirely bad, and wasn't fully malevolent in its intentions. It seemed almost... sad? No, you couldn’t think that way. Not now.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your shaking hands. You didn’t have much time. You needed to move.

The creature’s gaze shifted, and you could feel it locking onto your position. It grinned, a wide, toothy grin that split its face in a way that wasn’t natural. Three sharp, triangular fangs jutted from its opening, a disturbing juxtaposition to the otherwise innocent look in its eyes.

It’s coming. I need to hide.

But it was too late. As you tried to sneak away, a sharp paw shot out from the shadows, and the next thing you knew, you were on the cold floor, pinned down by the creature’s weight. Your scream caught in your throat as the creature’s massive claws dug into the ground next to you, its grin widening.

it purred, a low, gravelly hum.

You struggled, panic flooding your body as you squirmed under the creature’s grasp. Its limbs were far stronger than you expected, and though it was playful, you could feel an unsettling sense of power in its every move. It was toying with you, like a cat with a mouse.

“You... you’re not going to eat me, right?” you gasped, trying to push against its heavy paw.

Yarnaby’s head tilted slightly, his massive, cartoony eyes narrowing as if considering your question. He mused the thought, though his head shifted, as if he were coherently saying no.

Before you could respond, the creature scooped you up in one swift motion, lifting you as though you weighed nothing. It carried you through the dimly lit corridors, the sounds of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. As you were whisked past walls lined with strange symbols and flickering lights, you couldn’t help but notice the unsettling quiet that seemed to hang in the air. Where were the others? Had they escaped, or...?

The answer came in the form of another disturbing sight—this one much worse. The farther you went, the more you saw the true horror of this place. The experiments. The dark, twisted creations of the Doctor. It was clear now. You weren’t in a research facility anymore. You were in a prison.

The last thing you saw before being thrown into a cold, dark cell was Yarnaby’s eyes—a mixture of sorrow and the distant echoes of something long forgotten. You didn’t know what it was about the creature that made you feel both terrified and sorry for it at the same time.

As you slumped against the cold metal bars, a distant voice echoed from behind you.

“Yarnaby,” the voice said, cold and calculating, “bring it here.”

Yarnaby looked down at you with those big, innocent eyes once more, his grin softening for the briefest of moments.

The creature stepped back, giving you a little more space before his monstrous grin reappeared.

As if he truly spoke, the thought hadn’t escaped your mind. ‘Doctor will fix you soon’

Yarnaby whimpered softly, before turning away.

But even as you were left in the cold dark, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Yarnaby wasn’t like the others. There was something different about him. Something more... human.

And though you were trapped in this nightmare, deep down, you knew he was, in some strange, twisted way, a protector.

At least, that’s what the jingle of his name told you.

#poppy playtime x reader #x reader #poppy playtime #yarnaby #poppy playtime chapter 4 #poppy playtime chapter four

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grison-in-space · 11 months ago

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I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

#animal welfare #just #don't do this #when someone says “no”#please fucking listen #there's another essay in me somewhere on the painfully obvious sublimated dynamics picked up from Christianity all over this movement #but I do actually have work to do today including that ventral pallidum post I have been poking at

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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 12

˗ˏˋ vanilla coffee ˎˊ˗

"There's a science to making perfect coffee, he says. But there's no science to explain why watching him make it—shirtless and sleep-rumpled—makes you forget every reason you shouldn't want him."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 7,4k

rating: explicit (sex)

content: jungkook literally has a vanilla kink at this point i'm sorry that wasn't even planned he's just got free will, coffee lessons that are somehow hot, tiny shorts being instigators, verbal sparring as foreplay, protected sex, titty play, titty worship, penetrative vaginal sex, him fingering her

✧ author's note ✧

Listen. LISTEN. I don’t know what kind of demonic possession took over me while writing this chapter, but I had zero control over my own hands. Like, the coffee scene? The mug sharing? The delicious moment??? I AM IN HELL. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

I started this chapter with the intention of them being petty little gremlins about vanilla-scented products, and somehow it ended with Jungkook making a whole latte just to flex on Y/N. A LATTE. And don’t even get me started on the mug proximity crimes. The way Y/N is actively short-circuiting over his hands and forearms like a Victorian woman seeing ankle for the first time?? We are ALL in trouble. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

And then—oh, god—the sweatpants menace. If you know, you know.

As always, please send thoughts, screams, and existential crises to the comment box. Love you, stay hydrated, and if a man ever offers to elevate your coffee… RUN. (Or sit in his lap. Your call.) (¬‿¬)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

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Good tired is still tired.

Your bag hits the dining table with a thud that perfectly matches how your brain feels right now—heavy and slightly bruised.

7PM.

You gave him way more than forty minutes. Actually gave him two whole hours, not that you're counting.

Not that you care. You're just... observant.

But then you catch it—that familiar scent hanging in the air. Vanilla. Your mind immediately goes to that specific vanilla body wash that costs way too much but is the only thing that doesn't make your skin break out.

Oh, he fucking didn't.

Your fist connects with his door maybe a bit harder than necessary. There's a loud thud from inside, followed by what sounds like someone falling off a bed, then a muffled "shit” before footsteps approach.

The door swings open and—oh.

Oh no.

He's shirtless, because of course he is. Hair a disaster, eyes heavy with sleep, that stupid silver ring catching the light as he runs a hand down his face. There's a pillow crease on his cheek and he looks... soft. Which is absolutely not what you need right now when you're trying to be angry.

"What," he growls, voice rough with sleep, "is your problem?"

Right. Anger. Focus on that.

"My problem?" You gesture vaguely at the air between you. "My problem is you letting random hookups use my shit!"

His brow furrows, like he's trying to process your words through a fog of interrupted sleep. Then his expression does this complicated thing—confusion to understanding to something else you can't quite read.

He presses his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Phoenix, I didn't." When he looks at you again, he seems more awake. "I told her your stuff was off limits."

"Then why does it smell like—"

He brushes past you, heading toward the bathroom, and you absolutely do not notice how warm he is when he passes. Or how he still smells like rain under the vanilla.

"Are you seriously walking away while I'm—"

He stops so suddenly you almost run into him. Turns. Points at the coffee table.

"It's your candle."

You follow his finger and... oh.

There's one of your vanilla candles burning quietly on the table, nearly at its end. Which means it's been lit for...

He groans, running a hand down his face again. "You said to open the windows, and I just..." He waves vaguely at the candle. "Whatever."

"You..." The words aren't quite computing. "You lit my candle?"

"You told me to air out the apartment."

"So you used my candle to get cozy with some random—"

"For fuck's sake, Phoenix." He looks like he's regretting every life choice that led him here. "I lit it because you like these stupid vanilla things, okay? Thought it'd make the place smell nice when you got back."

Oh.

Something warm and uncomfortable squirms in your chest. Because that's... that's actually kind of...

"Well." You cross your arms, refusing to acknowledge the weird feeling. "Maybe ask next time before using my stuff."

"Maybe don't ghost me for two hours when I asked for forty minutes."

"I was studying!"

"With your phone on silent?"

"Some of us have actual academic responsibilities, Rogue."

His mouth twitches. "Some of us have other responsibilities."

"Yeah, bet ‘pussy eating’ looks great on a résumé.”

“Didn’t eat her pussy. Just fucked it.”

You grimace. “TMI.”

He shrugs. “You brought it up.”

“You were the one bragging about responsibilities like it’s a noble calling.”

“Hey, takes dedication. Skill. Stamina.” A smirk. “Not my fault you’re fixated on it.”

Fixated—

“Right. Just like I’m fixated on your four-hour recovery nap.”

“Wasn’t napping the whole time.”

“Gross.”

“You asked.”

“I literally didn’t.”

He's fighting a smile now, you can tell. Which is annoying because you're trying to be mad about your candle. Or your body wash. Or... something.

"Whatever." You turn toward your room, because this conversation needs to end before you do something stupid like thank him for thinking about the smell. "Just ask next time."

"Before lighting your pretentious vanilla candles?"

"They're not pretentious."

"They're thirty dollars each."

"How do you know how much they—" You spin back around. "Have you been looking up my candles?"

"No."

"Oh my god, you totally have."

"I was curious why they cost so much when they all smell the same!"

"They do not all smell the same, you absolute heathen."

He raises an eyebrow. "French Vanilla and Vanilla Bean are literally the same thing."

"I'm not having this conversation with someone who probably thinks Old Spice is a personality trait."

"At least I don't need a PhD to buy soap."

"No, you just need—" You stop, narrowing your eyes. "Wait. How do you know what's in my shower?"

"You know what?" He stretches, and you absolutely do not track the movement with your eyes. "All this talk about vanilla is making me crave coffee. Specifically..." He grins, slow and deliberate. "Those vanilla capsules you hide in the back of the cabinet."

"Don't you dare—"

"The ones behind the protein powder?"

"Those are mine." You follow him as he saunters toward the kitchen, still annoyingly shirtless. "I specifically said they weren't for you."

"Come on, Phoenix." He's already moving toward the kitchen, all loose limbs and bare chest like putting on a shirt is beneath him. "Let me show you how to actually make coffee. Teach you some culture. Some technique."

You swat at him as he passes. "I know how to use a coffee maker."

"Sure you do." His laugh is rough with sleep, and you hate that you notice. "That's why you murdered a perfectly good espresso shot this morning."

"I did not—"

"The beans were crying, Phoenix. I heard them."

But you're already following him to the kitchen because apparently you hate yourself.

He's wearing those stupid gray sweatpants that hang just low enough to be illegal in at least three states, and his hair is still a disaster from sleep, curling at the nape of his neck.

"First rule," he says, running his hands over the coffee maker like it's something precious, "is respecting the machine."

"It's a coffee maker, not royalty."

"See? No respect." His fingers dance over the settings with practiced ease. "That's why your coffee tastes like sad bean water."

You lean against the counter, watching as he measures grounds with ridiculous precision.

"My coffee tastes fine."

"Your coffee tastes like betrayal and broken dreams." He adjusts the grind size, movements quick and sure. "You probably think instant coffee is acceptable."

"Only when I'm feeling particularly spiteful."

His horrified gasp is so dramatic it actually makes you laugh. "You're a monster."

"Guilty."

He shakes his head, tamping down the grounds with absolutely unnecessary focus. The muscles in his forearms flex with the movement, and you definitely don't notice. Just like you don't notice how his hands look wrapping around the portafilter, or how his ring catches the kitchen light when he locks it into place.

"Watch," he says, flipping switches with the confidence of someone who definitely spent too much time watching barista tutorials on YouTube. "This is where the magic happens."

"It's coffee, not alchemy."

"Shh. You're ruining the moment."

The machine hums to life, and okay—maybe you can kind of see why he's so precious about it. There's something almost hypnotic about the way the espresso streams out, dark and perfect.

"See how it's not running too fast?" He's fully in teacher mode now, gesturing at the flow. "That's what you want. Nice and steady. Not that waterfall disaster you created this morning."

"Are you done being pretentious yet?"

"Never." He grabs your vanilla capsules—the ones you specifically told him not to touch—and starts steaming milk. "But I'll make it worth your while."

"By stealing my coffee?"

"By elevating your coffee." The milk pitcher moves in his hand like it's an extension of his arm. "You'll never want that chain store stuff again."

"Bold of you to assume I want anything you make."

His smile is all trouble. "Liar."

And okay, maybe he has a point. Because the drink he slides across the counter a few minutes later looks... kind of perfect. The foam is glossy and smooth, and the vanilla smell hits just right.

"Well?" He raises an eyebrow, waiting.

You take a sip and—fuck.

Fuck.

"It's..."

No. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.

But he's already grinning, the bastard. "Say it."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Phoenix." He leans forward, elbows on the counter. "Admit it. I made your vanilla whatever-the-fuck better than you ever could."

"I will literally die first."

"That good, huh?"

You flip him off, taking another sip instead of answering. But then he's there, right there, and when did he get so close? His fingers brush yours as he takes the mug, gentle but deliberate, and your throat goes dry.

He holds your gaze, something dark and playful dancing in his eyes. Doesn't ask permission with words—just tilts his head slightly, the question clear in the quirk of his mouth. And you should say something. Should stop him. Should—

The mug touches his lips. Your lips were just there. Three seconds ago, your mouth was exactly where his is now, and that shouldn't make your stomach clench but it does.

His eyes are too much. Too dark, too intense, too fucking knowing as he takes a slow sip. Have they always been this brown? This smoky? Like whiskey in low light, like trouble wrapped in honey.

The kind of eyes that should come with a warning label: Danger. Side effects may include stupid decisions and ruined underwear.

His tongue darts out, catching a stray drop on his lower lip. Slow. Deliberate. The silver ring on his hand catches the light as he lowers the mug, and his voice drops to something husky.

"Delicious."

Nope. Absolutely not.

You snatch the mug back, ignoring how your fingers tingle where they brush his. "Make your own, you coffee nerd."

Retreat. Strategic retreat to the couch is definitely the smart play here. Because your brain is currently short-circuiting, trying to process how one word—one stupid, fucking word—in that voice can make your thighs press together.

His laugh follows you, low and knowing. The sound wraps around you like smoke, like the way he smelled that thunderstorm night, like—

Griffin chooses that exact moment to slink into the living room, green eyes judging you both as he hops onto the windowsill. He stretches, impossibly long, before curling into a perfect orange circle, pointedly turning his back to you both.

At least someone in this apartment has standards.

Focus. You're focusing.

But then you hear him moving behind you. The quiet rhythm of his breathing, the soft appreciative hums as he works the coffee maker. The whisper of fabric as his sweatpants shift with his movements. Each sound feels magnified, like your brain has decided to process everything in HD surround sound.

Don't look back. Don't do it. Don't—

Fuck.

You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret every decision that led to this moment. Because his back is a work of art, all broad shoulders and defined muscle, and it's not fair. It's not fucking fair that even from behind he's attractive enough to make your mouth water. The way his shoulder blades move as he works the machine, the dip of his spine disappearing into those low-hanging sweats, the unruly hairs curling at his nape...

Snap your head forward. Drink your coffee. Stop being a horny disaster for five consecutive minutes.

But you can still hear him. Still feel his presence behind you like a looming cloud. Still taste the ghost of his lips where they touched the same spot yours did on the mug.

This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just tired and touch-starved and maybe a little worked up from your stupid assignments—

"Want another taste, Phoenix?"

His voice is closer now, right behind you, and you absolutely do not shiver. "Didn't anyone teach you to drink your own coffee?"

"Didn't anyone teach you that stealing tastes better?"

You refuse to turn around. Refuse to acknowledge how his words squeeze your chest. "You're impossible."

"You like impossible."

And that's... that's not something you're equipped to handle right now. Not with him standing there all sleep-warm and shirtless, voice rough like gravel, smelling like rain and coffee and sin.

"I like peace and quiet," you lie, taking another sip of your rapidly cooling drink.

His laugh is soft, dangerous. "Liar."

The couch dips as he drops down next to you, thigh pressed against yours like he owns the space. Like personal boundaries are just suggestions. He has a mug in hand now, and his coffee smells kind of amazing and you hate him for it.

You shift away, but his hand lands on your thigh—warm, heavy, there. His fingers span the width of it easily, and your brain helpfully supplies memories of those same fingers in other contexts.

It doesn’t escape your notice, how his eyes linger on where your shorts have ridden up your thighs from your hours in the library.

"No," you manage, swatting his thigh with yours.

"No what?" His voice is still rough from sleep, and it's doing things to you. Unfair things.

"No manspreading next to me." You try to sound annoyed instead of affected. "Keep your sweaty balls to yourself."

He squeezes your thigh, just once. Just enough to make you want to throw the mug at him. Or yourself. "My balls aren't sweaty."

"Bet they are.”

"Want to check?"

"You're actually the worst." But you don't move his hand. Why aren't you moving his hand?

"That's not what you said last time."

And fuck him for bringing up last time. Fuck him for smelling like rain and coffee and sleep-warm skin. Fuck him for the way his thumb is drawing absent circles on your thigh, like he's not even aware he's doing it.

"Lapse in judgment."

His laugh rumbles through you, too close, too much. "Which time?"

"Pick one."

"I'd rather pick you up."

You turn to tell him exactly where he can shove that line, but it's a mistake. Because he's right there, all heavy-lidded eyes and sleep-soft mouth, and your brain fizzles. His hair is still a mess, curling at his temples, and you want to grab it. Want to find out if it's as soft as it looks. Want to—

"You're staring, Phoenix."

"Untrue."

His fingers flex on your thigh. "Big word for someone who can't stop looking at my mouth."

"I'm not—" But you are. You absolutely are. "Shut up."

"Make me."

Always those two damn words. Always saying ‘make me’, like he knows how it riles you up. Like he likes how it riles you up. His eyes are dark, dangerous, and you can feel his pulse through his fingers on your thigh. Or maybe that's your pulse. Everything feels too hot, too close, too—

"Your coffee's getting cold," you manage, voice embarrassingly breathy.

His smile is slow, knowing. "Yeah?”

His eyes drop to your shorts—the ones you've been wearing all day, the ones that rode up your thighs during your study session. And okay, maybe they're a little too short. Maybe you felt Jimin's concerned glance when you stretched in the library. But it's not your fault the AC in your car is temperamental at best.

"These can't be comfortable after sitting in the library all day," he murmurs, fingers playing with the hem. “Could help you out of them."

"Thought you were tired from your afternoon activities."

"Second wind." His thumb traces the seam where it cuts into your thigh. "Come here."

You raise an eyebrow, ignoring how your body wants to lean into his touch. "I am here."

"No," and his voice drops lower, rougher. "Here." He pats his lap, and the casual confidence of it irritating. Hot. Irritatingly hot. "Unless you're scared."

"Of what? Your ego?"

"Of how bad you want it." His eyes flick to your chest, where your shirt dips just low enough to be interesting. "Been thinking about these shorts all day. Since you drove me to class."

"Didn't realize my driving skills were such a turn on."

"Your driving skills are terrible." His hand slides higher, testing. "But watching you grip the steering wheel..."

You swallow. "That's kind of pathetic."

"Yeah?" His fingers find the spot where your shorts meet skin. "Then why are you breathing so hard?"

"Because you're annoying me."

He laughs, low and dangerous. "Hop on, Phoenix. Let me annoy you properly."

"That's your big move? 'Hop on'?"

“As long as it gets you on top of me...” He smiles now, actually smiles. “I’d say it’s working.”

And fuck him for being right. Fuck him for the way his eyes are all pupil now, for how his skin is still warm, for how he smells like everything you want to taste.

"You're awful," you breathe, but you're already shifting closer.

"Show me how awful."

His fingers hook through your belt loop and suddenly you're being yanked forward with zero warning. The squeak that leaves your mouth is embarrassing.

"Rude," you swat at him, but he catches your wrist easily. His hand is so warm around your cold skin.

"C'mere," he breathes, and before you can process it, you're straddling him.

His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and pulling you closer until you fall forward, catching yourself with hands on either side of his head.

He hums, the sound vibrating through you where you're pressed against him. And—yeah. Well. That's definitely not his phone in his sweats.

"Ride me?" The way he says it is almost lazy, but his eyes are dark, hungry. That half-lidded look that means tarnation.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Phoenix." His fingers flex on your ass, making you rock against him. "Don't be mean."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore how good he feels under you. "Mean?"

"Been hard since I saw you in these fucking shorts this morning." He bites his lip, looking up at you through his lashes. "Just thinking about your thighs spread over my lap like this..."

"That sounds like a you problem."

His laugh is breathless, a little wild. "I’ll make it an us problem."

"Thought you were tired from earlier."

"Different kind of tired." His hands guide you into a slow grind against him. "This is more... inspiration."

"You're actually insane."

"Yeah?" He rocks up, making you gasp. "Feeling pretty sane right now. Feeling like I really want you to—fuck—"

You'd rolled your hips, just to shut him up. Just to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. But now he's looking at you like you’re his favorite dessert, and his hands are everywhere, and—

"That's it," he breathes, voice gone raspy. "Just like that, come on..."

He guides your hips into another roll, watching you with that hungry, hazy look. His thumbs dig into your hipbones, controlling the pressure, the pace.

"Been thinking about this," he breathes, voice rough. "How you'd look bouncing on my cock. How your tits would—fuck—" You grind down harder, feeling him twitch against you. "Haven't even gotten to see them properly yet."

"Poor you," but your voice shakes when his hands slide up under your shirt, spanning your ribs.

"Poor me," he agrees, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. "All I got was that quick fuck against the window. Then you cumming on my tongue." His eyes are dark, pupils blown. "But this? Getting to watch you ride me? See these bounce while you—"

"You talk too much." You're trying for annoyed but it comes out breathy.

"Make me shut up then." His hips snap up. "Come on, Phoenix. Show me how well you can take it, yeah?"

"That's your big plan? Get me all worked up in the living room?"

“Getting worked up anywhere you’ll let me.” His fingers find your nipples through your bra, rolling them until you arch. “Been waiting to get you like this. Spread out on top of me, swallowing me deep in this greedy pussy…”

You let out a breathy laugh, grinding down just to spite him. “Yeah?” Your voice is pure teasing, but the heat is real. “She didn’t wring you out completely?”

His grip tightens on your waist, nails pressing in just enough to make you feel it. “Seems like she didn’t.”

You hum, dragging your hips forward again, slow and deliberate. “Mm. That’s a shame.”

“Yeah?” His voice dips, rough and taunting, but his hands—his fucking hands—are already shoving your shirt up, fingers tracing up your spine before yanking your bra down just enough to expose you. His thumb drags over one nipple, his breath warm against your throat. “You wanna fix that?”

You pretend to consider, rolling your hips again, dragging your pussy right over the thick ridge of him. Fuck. He’s not even inside you, and it’s already so good.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t want to overwork you.”

His laugh is sharp, incredulous. “Nix.” His voice is wrecked—the kind of hoarse, hungry sound that goes straight to your cunt. “You feel what you’re doing to me?” He thrusts up, slow but deep, and you suck in a breath. “Think I’m fucking tired?”

And yeah, okay. He’s still hard as fucking steel beneath you. Still needy. Still looking at you like he’s seconds from losing what little patience he has left.

“It’s these fucking shorts,” he mutters, grabbing a handful of your ass like he wants to leave bruises. “Oh my god, this fucking ass.”

You hold back a laugh, rolling your hips again, enjoying the way his breath stutters. “That easy, huh?”

His hands tighten on you. “You know what you do to me.” His mouth finds your throat, teeth scraping just enough to make you quiver. “S’why you wore these, right?”

You don’t answer, just reach between you to shove down his sweatpants, dragging them low enough to free his cock. And—fuck. He’s so hard it’s almost obscene, thick and flushed and already leaking.

“Jesus,” you mutter, running a teasing finger up his shaft, watching his stomach tense. “Didn’t even get a full reset, did you?”

His jaw flexes. “No.” A muscle in his cheek jumps as he watches you wrap your hand around him. “The fuck do you expect when you walk around in these little fucking—” His breath hitches when you thumb over the head, smearing the wetness there. “Shit—shorts. The second I saw you, I knew—”

“You knew what?” You press the question into his skin, lips just beneath his jaw, hand still working him slow.

His grip on your ass tightens, grounding, punishing. “Knew I was gonna end up inside you tonight.”

And fuck. That sends a fresh wave of heat through you, has your thighs squeezing around him. Because yeah, okay, maybe you had the same thought the second you walked in and saw him standing there in nothing but those damn sweatpants.

But there’s still one thing gnawing at you. One thing that makes your brain fight for a fraction of control through the heat.

“Did you use condoms?”

His head snaps up, brow furrowing like you just asked if water is wet. “Of course I did. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

You exhale, relief flooding through you faster than the heat pooling low in your stomach.

“Okay, fuck. Okay.” You swallow. “Where are they?”

And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—instead of answering, he grabs your tits. Both hands, rough and impatient, unclasping you bra like it personally offended him.

“Jesus—wait—” You barely manage to lift your arms before he’s yanking it over your head, flinging it somewhere behind him.

“You on the pill?” he murmurs, barely pausing his focus on your tits.

“No.” You don’t even hesitate.

And to his credit, he doesn’t either. “Okay. Condoms it is.”

Respectful. A menace, but respectful.

You barely have time to process that before his fingers are pressing into the small of your back, guiding you forward, making you press flush against him as he leans toward the coffee table.

And you—because apparently you’re both equally insane—just let him.

His other hand reaches forward, jerking open the small drawer in the coffee table, fishing out a foil packet with practiced ease.

“You keep condoms in the living room?”

Jungkook doesn’t even blink. “Yeah. Just in case.”

“In case?” Your eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t you fuck in your room like normal people?”

“Yeah?” He grabs the foil packet, tossing it onto the couch beside him before his hands are right back on your waist, thumbs sliding under the waistband of your shorts. “But, y’know… just in case you wanted it.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Me?”

“You, Phoenix.” He squeezes your hips like he’s grounding himself, like he has to touch you while he says it. “I usually fuck in my room. But you and me—we already did it against the window, so I figured…” He shrugs, casual as ever. “Might as well be prepared.”

“I—” You blink, processing, trying to form actual thoughts. “That’s crazy.”

He shrugs, so fucking nonchalant it’s unfair. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Think about it.” His mouth curls, eyes flicking from your mouth to your bare chest and back again. “Imagine I had to stop and go all the way to my room right now.” He pauses, letting the implication settle. “Wouldn’t that just kill the mood?”

And okay. You do snort at that.

Because this is ridiculous.

Because this is actually thoughtful.

Because he’s still hard as a rock under you, talking about condom logistics while casually groping your ass, like he’s planning for a fire drill and not fucking you senseless on the couch.

“No, like. You’re a complete nut case,” you murmur, shaking your head.

“Quick access,” he corrects, and then—fuck.

His mouth is on your tits again.

No hesitation, no teasing buildup, just his tongue dragging over one nipple, warm and slick before closing his lips around it.

Your breath catches, fingers twitching where they brace on his shoulders. “Jesus—”

He hums against your skin, like this is just an extension of the conversation. Like he can talk about fucking you and have his tongue on your tits in the same breath.

And then, because he’s Jungkook and apparently completely fucking obsessed with your chest, he moves to the other one, sucking deep and slow, like he’s savoring it.

“Can’t help it,” he mutters against you, voice rough. “Tits too fucking perfect.”

Which—okay. You shouldn’t preen at that, but his mouth is so fucking warm, and his hands are so fucking big—

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and his breath stutters.

And then he’s leaning back just enough to look up at you, lips slick, pupils blown. “You gonna let me fuck you cowgirl now, or you wanna keep pretending we’re still talking?”

You poke at his dick playfully, watching with satisfaction as it twitches immediately.

His breath stutters, eyes flicking up to yours, but he doesn’t say a word. Just watches—completely absorbed—as you pluck the condom from the side and roll it down over him, slow and deliberate.

His jaw flexes, lips parting slightly, and when you glance up, you catch it—his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice all low and wrecked.

You smirk, dragging your fingers back up his shaft just because you can, because you like making him twitch, like how he watches you like he’s seconds from losing his mind.

His hands are already on your thighs when you lift up, finally removing those tiny ass shorts—but when your fingers hook into your panties, he stops you.

“Keep them.”

You blink, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” His hands skim up, palms rough against your bare skin. “They’re red and lacy and fucking beautiful—” His voice breaks off into a sharp exhale as he shifts under you, cock nudging against the damp lace between your legs. “Just shove them to the side and let me fuck you like this.”

Heat licks down your spine, and fuck, maybe it is kind of hot—his voice raw, gaze locked where you’re already so wet for him.

“Yeah?” You drag the fabric aside, slow and teasing, letting him see what he’s about to have. “You want me to ride you like this?”

“Nix.” His voice is all smoke and gravel. “Fucking sit on it.”

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders.

And then, in one swift motion, you sink down onto him.

“Fuck—”

Jungkook shudders, breath breaking apart as he bottoms out inside you, hands clamping down on your hips so hard it’s murderous. His fingers dig deep into your skin, like he’s fighting the urge to slam you down harder, deeper, but he doesn’t—he just grips, holds, feels.

And fucking watches.

Because this—this—is his favorite.

The way you stretch around him, the way he can see it, can watch himself disappear inside you from this angle. The lace of your panties bunched to the side, the way your slick coats his cock, the slow, obscene drag as he throbs inside you.

His jaw clenches, his head falling back, but his eyes stay locked on where your bodies meet. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You suck in a breath, thighs trembling slightly, trying to adjust to the stretch, the pressure, the way he fills you completely. You brace your hands on his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle shift beneath your palms as he groans deep in his throat.

“You feel that, Nix?” His voice is rough, wrecked. “Feel how deep you’re taking me?”

You bite your lip, trying not to squirm at the way that sounds coming from him, the way his cock pulses inside you like he can feel every little squeeze.

His grip on your hips flexes. “Come on, let me hear you.”

You swallow hard, already feeling too fucking warm. “I—”

“I what?” His hands slide down, palms rough and greedy as they find your ass, grabbing handfuls, spreading you just to push inside you deeper. “Fuck, Phoenix, you feel so fucking good.”

Your thighs twitch, heat licking up your spine, and okay—okay, maybe that makes something inside you tighten. The way he wants you to feel it. The way he sounds like he’s barely holding on.

“Look at you. Sitting so fucking pretty on my cock like this.”

Your breath stutters.

“Fuck—” His fingers flex again, grip punishing, possessive. “Knew you’d look good like this. In this position. Been dreaming ‘bout it.”

You exhale shakily, pressing your palms harder against his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath your hands.

“Yeah?” The word slips out before you can stop it, quiet, breathless, barely more than an exhale.

And then, even as much as you convince yourself you hate dirty talk—his dirty talk—how you tell yourself it’s cringe… You find yourself engaging. You find yourself slipping.

“You wanted me in this position, Ro? Riding you?”

And Jungkook? He fucking relishes on it.

“Yeah,” he rasps, dark eyes flicking up to yours, mouth curling slow, dirty. “Getting bold on me, Phee?”

Heat rushes up your throat, your pulse pounding, but you don’t look away. You can’t—not with the way he’s looking at you, not with how deep he is inside you.

“God,” he groans, hands gripping your ass again, spreading you wider just to watch himself sink into you even more. “You should see how you look right now.”

His voice is wrecked—half-growl, half-moan—and you have to fight the way your thighs want to squeeze around him, hold him there.

But he notices.

And grins.

“Fucking knew it,” he mutters, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “You like hearing it, don’t you?”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers twitching on his chest. “Shut up.”

“Nah.” He tilts his head, thumbs digging into your skin, grounding, teasing. “Think I finally got you to like it.”

And fuck—fuck—you can’t even argue, because his cock twitches inside you and your whole body reacts, a shiver running up your spine.

His smirk widens. “See?”

You exhale sharply. “Rogue.”

“Phoenix.” His hands tighten again, his voice a slow, taunting drawl. “C’mon, yeah? Ride me.”

Your thighs flex as you lift yourself up, the slow drag of him leaving you just enough to make you whimper, then you sink back down, faster this time, harder.

Jungkook’s jaw goes slack, hands gripping your ass like he’s barely holding himself together. “Christ—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You move again, rising and dropping, setting a pace that has his breath coming out in ragged exhales, his nails biting into your skin. Every inch of him stretches you open, fills you up, makes your stomach coil tighter and tighter.

And then—

His right hand moves.

Fingers slipping lower, rough against your skin, then lower, lower—

Until he’s spreading you.

His fingers part your folds, stretching you open wider just so he can watch himself disappear inside you.

“For fuck’s sake Ro—”

“Shit,” he exhales, low and wrecked, eyes locked on where his cock is sliding in and out of you, the obscene wetness coating both of you. “Look at that. Fucking dripping for me, Phoenix. Can’t help it.”

Your thighs shake, breath shuddering, and you want to tell him to shut the fuck up—but you can’t, because you may not see it, but you feel it. The way your body takes him, how slick and messy it is, how deep he’s buried every time you drop back down.

It’s filthy. He’s filthy.

“You’re so nasty,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest for balance.

He laughs, dark and smug. “And you fucking love it.”

Before you can snap back, he finally—finally—looks up at you.

And his breath stutters.

Because, of course, in this position, your tits are bouncing.

His pupils blow wide, throat working through a hard swallow, and then—his hands fly up immediately.

Grabbing. Palming. Squeezing.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice breaking apart, gaze flicking between your tits and your face like he doesn’t know where to look first. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His grip on your waist tightens, nails digging in, and then—his head falls back. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, breath coming in sharp, desperate pants.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he gasps, voice wrecked, low and so needy you almost mewl, because you’ve never heard him like that. “Gonna cum so fucking bad—”

Your rhythm stutters. “Don’t you dare finish before me.”

“Fucking—” He grunts, muscles tensing beneath you as his hands clamp down harder, like he’s fighting it, trying to hold on, but— “Oh my fucking god, Phoenix—”

You can feel him struggling—his thighs trembling beneath you, abs flexing tight, his cock twitching inside you, buried so deep.

“How the fffffuck—” his breath shudders, “do you expect me—Jesus Christ—to hold b-back when your tits—god—”

His hands are everywhere—palming, grabbing, fucking worshiping your chest like he’s possessed—and then his mouth is there again, latching onto your right tit, tongue flicking over your nipple, sucking deep and wet.

“Shit,” you whimper, back arching.

“Fuck—fuck—”

He suddenly leans back, dragging you down hard onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet you, hips snapping with short, frantic rolls.

Your breath shatters, thighs burning, your whole body jolting with every desperate slam of his hips.

And his eyes.

Jesus.

His eyes are locked on you, wide and hungry, flicking between your parted lips and your chest.

And then—

“Grab ‘em,” he pants, voice rough, ruined. “Fuck—grab those titties for me, Phee.”

Your stomach flips.

“Grab’em while you ride me—” His breath catches, his abs flexing. “Fucking—God, I need to see it—”

Heat floods your spine, your pulse pounding as you do what he says—palms sliding up, gripping the soft weight of your tits, squeezing just enough to lift, to move, to give him exactly what he wants.

And his reaction—

“Jesus fucking—” His head falls back hard against the couch before snapping back up, completely fucking wrecked. “Oh my god—look at them—look at you—fuck, fuck—”

His fingers dig into your hips, forcing you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you as he thrusts up, trying to get deeper, trying to burn this into his brain.

“Oh god, oh god, Phoenix— I swear to fucking God—” His hands slide down, gripping your ass. “Fucking dripping— so messy for me—”

His voice breaks on a groan, hips slamming up, chasing it, his body seizing up as he loses it.

“Shit—shit—I’m—oh my god—fuck—I’m cumming—”

And then—he snaps.

His grip on your waist locks, his whole body tensing beneath you, and his head tips back, mouth falling open as he moans—a deep, raw sound from the bottom of his fucking chest.

He creams inside the condom, hips jerking up in short, shallow thrusts, pulsing thick and hot as he spills into it.

His hands shake as they guide your hips down, grinding you onto him, milking every last drop, needing to feel every second of it.

And you—

You’re about to sigh, about to roll your eyes, because seriously? He just came? You haven’t even—

But before the frustration can even fully settle, he moves.

One second, he’s slumped against the couch, breathless, spent.

The next—he’s flipping you onto your back.

Your gasp barely leaves your lips before his hands are on your thighs, gripping, spreading you open like it’s his fucking right, pushing your knees toward your chest.

And then—no hesitation.

No questions asked, no smug teasing, no half-assed effort—just his fingers shoving your panties back to the side, replacing his cock with two thick fingers, burying them inside you like he already fucking knows you can taste it.

Your breath shatters. “Jesus—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, focused, dark eyes locked on your pussy as his fingers curl, stretching you open, pressing deep. “Not leaving you hanging.”

And fuck—fuck—his thumb.

Right there, dragging over your clit, pressing just right with slow, deliberate circles.

Your thighs twitch, your hands clenching in the couch cushions as your body jolts from the sudden shock of pleasure. “Oh—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he groans, gaze flicking up to watch your face, your wrecked fucking expression as he fingers you open. “Gimme that pretty little shake—know you’re close.”

You barely process your own whimper before he’s pressing in harder, thrusting his fingers faster, his thumb working you like he owns your orgasm.

“You think I’d leave you like that?” His voice is low, hushed, wrecked, pressing filthy into the space between you. “Think I’d fucking cum and not make you lose your mind, too?”

“Ro—”

“Nah, Phoenix.” His fingers drive into you, slick and obscene, thumb relentless. “You’re gonna cum all over my hand—” he leans in, breath warm against your throat, “and I’m gonna watch every fucking second of it.”

His fingers pump into you, wet and filthy, every slick thrust echoing between you. And god, the sounds are just so fucking obscene it makes you want to die a little.

“Come on, give it to me, Phee,” Jungkook rasps.

You can barely breathe. His thumb keeps dragging over your clit in these slow, devastating circles, the pressure just right, and your whole body is trembling, your thighs twitching where he holds them open.

“Listen to that,” he groans, gaze flicking down, mesmerized. “So fucking wet for me. Making a mess all over my hand.”

And then his mouth is on you again.

He latches onto your tit, sucking deep, tongue flicking over your nipple before pulling off just to groan against your skin.

“God, your vanilla shit Phoenix. Makes you taste so good. Could suck on these all fucking day—”

“Jungkook—”

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

Your back arches, hands flying to grip his arms because—fuck—fuck. The pressure is too much, his fingers so deep, his mouth so hot, and you’re right there—right fucking there—

“That’s it,” he groans, hand drenched, your walls pulsing around his fingers. “Come on, give it to me.”

And then—

It hits.

Pleasure rips through you, fast and all-consuming.

And Jungkook—fucking Jungkook—just groans, watching you fall apart.

“Mm, yeah that’s it,” he mutters, fixated on the way you shake, the way your pussy flutters around his fingers, soaking his palm. “So fucking good, huh?”

His name slips out in a wrecked, shattered moan, and he loves it, enjoying every sound, drinking in every twitch and tremble.

He finally slows his movements as you shudder through the aftershocks, his fingers still deep, thumb pressing lazy circles to wring out every last second of it.

“Shit,” he murmurs, voice a little breathless, and when you manage to blink down at him, he’s staring at his own hand—glistening, messy, coated in you.

His throat works.

And then—his eyes flick back to yours.

And he fucking grins.

Jungkook collapses on top of you.

Full weight. No warning. Just dead fucking weight pressing you into the couch, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Oh my—get off!” You yelp, struggling beneath him, but he doesn’t budge.

“Nnngghh,” he groans into your neck, voice muffled, completely ignoring you. “Shut the fuck up and let me rest for five minutes.”

You blink up at the ceiling, absolutely fucking done. “Weren’t you sleeping, like, thirty minutes ago?”

“Your point?” His breath is warm against your skin, his body solid and heavy, still way too fucking hot from everything that just happened.

“My point,” you grumble, wiggling under him, “is that you’ve done literally nothing today except nut and nap, so why are you tired?”

“Because,” he mutters, arms tightening around your waist, “I’m a growing boy.”

You snort, smacking his bare back. “You’re a menace.”

He just hums, pressing his face into your neck like he’s about to fall asleep right there, and for a second, you let it happen—just breathing, the two of you still wrecked, bodies cooling down, silence stretching.

But then—

“Oh, shit—”

Jungkook jumps, suddenly wide awake, jolting upright so fast he nearly knocks you off the couch.

You blink up at him, still catching your breath. “What the fuck is wrong with you—”

“Wait—” He leans over you, hands on either side of your head, eyes huge and excited. “Do you have any toys?”

You stare at him. “What?”

“Toys,” he repeats, fully invested now. “Sex toys, Nix. I didn’t even think about it, but—fuck—I could’ve made you finish with one.”

You blink again, brain scrambling to catch up. “No?”

His brows furrow. “Why not?”

“Why would I—” You sit up slightly, pushing at his chest. “Do I look like I came here with a full-ass sex kit?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, genuinely baffled, “don’t you girls have dildos and shit?”

“Oh my fucking—” You shove his shoulder. “Do you really think when I was packing my shit to move in, I was like, ‘mmm, yeah, definitely need to bring my dildo’?”

His eyes narrow. “So you had one?”

“No—”

“So you’ve never had one?”

“No, Ro, my parents would’ve killed me.”

He pauses, frowning like he’s actually considering that for a second. Then, with absolutely zero hesitation—

“Okay, then we’re going toy shopping.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, no, fuck that.” He waves a hand, like this is a done deal, like you don’t even get a say. “You’re getting something. I refuse to believe you’ve gone your whole life without at least a vibrator. That’s a crime.”

“A crime?”

“Yes.” His face is serious, like this is a personal offense to him. “You deserve to cum even when I’m not here.”

“I don’t need you to cum.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Oh my fucking—” You drop your head back against the couch, groaning. “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m being a good friend.” He grins, smug as hell. “And an amazing fuck buddy.”

“We are not friends.”

He blinks. “What?”

“We’re not friends.” You cross your arms, looking him dead in the eye. “Fuck buddies. No friends.”

Jungkook gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you just deeply wounded him. “That hurts.”

“You’ll live.”

“Aren’t we, like, friends with benefits or something?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Fuck buddies. No friends. Just the benefits.”

“That’s the stupidest logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Coming from Mr. Stupid himself? Woah.”

“Pft. Right.” He stretches, cracking his neck, still grinning like an idiot. “Then we’re going this weekend.”

“To what?”

“Buy you a vibrator.”

“Fuck you.”

“Bet.”

You swat at him, grin still on his face and all.

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⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw @mar-lo-pap

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petew21-blog · 6 months ago

Text

An apple a day...

21st January 2021

Dr. Mikhail Varshavski, or how many people know him - Doctor Mike, is a famous succesful physician and an influencer making money out of his YouTube videos etc. Still taking a bit of his time to examine patients between his videos and interviews.

But today an elderly patient was suppse to come for a visit. Mikhail decided to make it a tv spot where the satisfied patient would come to the hospital and thanked him for treating him.

The patient's name was Arnold Jefferson, a 71 year old man suffering many conditions, such as diabetes, arthritis, hypertension and many many more. Quite common in older people.

Mr. Jefferson arrived an unaware of the upcoming spotilight was greeted by am assistant and led to a room with cameras.

Mr. Jefferson:"I was supposed to come for a vistit with Dr. Varshavski."

Assistant:"Doctor Mike wants to speak to you in front of the camera if that's ok? I am sure you have already signed multiple forms considering your privacy, while in his care. So we won't keep you long and I will go get doctor Mike."

Mr. Jefferson looked around confused. He came for a one on one dialogue, not an interview. He had no interest in all of this.

Docotr Mike arrived to the room. His hair ready, wearing his best scrubs that were ironed that day.

Mikhail:"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson. How are we feeling today?"

Mr. Jefferson:"Good morning. I.. well just as I normally do." he spoke nervously, looking at the cameras and the crew.

Mikhail spoke loudly for the microphone above them to hear and smiled way more than usual. "Amazing. We will do a standard check up and then we will take a look at your blood tests together. Is that ok?"

Mr. Jefferson nodded and was then examined in front of the camera. But they also did many photos where they were wearing masks and touched each other with elbows just to prove how safe they were while handling the ongoing pandemic.

He felt uncomfortable. "Could I please be examined alone for the part where I get to undress?"

The smile from doctor Mike's face disappeared. "Sure. Yeah. Can all of you from the crew go and take 5? Thank you. We will finish with Mr. Jefferson quickly.

The crew left and Dr. Mike was left alone with the patient.

Mr. Jefferson:"You complicated things for me, you know? I would have done this much sooner."

Doctor Mike had his stethoscope in his ears listening to Mr. Jefferson's heart. "What do you mean by that?" he said confused by what the patient said.

Mr. Jefferson placed his hands on Dr. Mike's head. "This". Flashes of lights shined between the two of them. Mikhail wanted to run away, but the force from Mr. Jefferson's hands was so strong. He couldn't let go.

Mikhail's eyes closed by themselves. He didn't see anything.

The first thing he saw as he opened his eyes was his reflection. Nothing unusual. He saw his face everyday in the mirror. But he felt anxious as soon as his body started moving on his own and flexed.

His body spoke out loud:"Oh my. It feels great to be this young again. It seems you take a great care for your body, Mikhail. Or I should say Arnold now."

Mikhail was in disbelief. What was happening? Is this all real?. "What did you do to me?"

Arnold:"I didn't hear that question for a very long time now. It will be easier to show you." he handed him the mirror. In the reflection was the same old man that he trested seconds ago. He touched his face and the reflection did the same.

Mikhail:"How are you doing this?"

Arnold:"Couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. I am honestly not sure."

Mikhail:"Why me? I am a doctor. I am not someone you should steal life away from."

Arnold:"You almost answered your question. If I don't have the right to do that then why should you? Remember my wife you treated? How you misdiagnosed her?"

Mikhail:"This is medicine. Mistakes can happen. It's not an exact science. Sometimes we don't have the power to save everyone."

Arnold:"Maybe. But my wife was special, like me, you know. We did the same thing I just did for you for almost a century. But we fell in love with the life that these bodies had. The love they had for each other, the family. We even had a new young couple found to move over to, but you just had to fuck it up. So... let my face be a constant reminder of what you messed up."

Mikhail:"You can't do this. No one will believe you. Everyone will find out. I will tell them."

Arnold:"Yeah, not really my concern. Whenever one of you does this, they end up in a mental hospital. So I guess it's up to you now, if you want to finish the shooting quietly or get a quick ticket for mental hospital for the short rest of your life you have left. So what's it gonna be?"

They finished the spot and Mikhail in Arnold's body was escorted out of the hospital. He was old now. His body ached. Every step he took was like a needle. He was picked up by one of his family members. He had no idea who it was. His son? Grandson? Maybe they'll know more about the swapping. Maybe the clues will be inside the house. Or maybe none at all.

18th February 2021

Mikhail sat in his new arm chair and held a mug in his hands. It has been almost a month since he lost his body.

One of his grandsons played with a tablet next to him.

Mikhail:"What are you doing there, Joe?"

Joe:"You wouldn't understand, grandpa."

Mikhail:"Maybe I would. How about you show me?"

Joe gave him initial instructions he would normally give Arnold, but Mikhail already knew all of this and confidently asked for him to put up YouTube.

Joe was surprised that his grandpa now knew all this, but he did what grandpa asked him to do.

They found Doctor Mike's channel. There was only one new video from the last time that Mikhail has posted anything.

The video had a bad quality. The one who edited the video was definitely an amateur.

The name of the video was: Why I decided to quit medicine

Mikhail froze. His life was all about being in the medical field. And now Arnold ruined it all.

He played the video. Arnold seemed very happy with his new body, because he kept touching his arms, his pecs and hair even while talking about how unsatisfied he became while working as a doctor.

Mikhail took the tablet and searched for more information about his old body. He found information about a lawsuit for malpractice, that the new doctor Mike how faced.

But something kuch worse caught his attention. An Only Fans account.

Mikhail left the room with the tablet and his grandson screaming behind him. But he didn't care about that now. He opened the page and immediately subscribed while entering his credit card info.

The page unlocked.

Mikhail had tears in his eyes. There were videos of his old body pleasuring himself, embarassing himself, pleasuring others...

All of that for a bit of money from horny peopl, that wanted to see the famous doctor.

Mikhail decided to send a message that cost extra money.

He sat there for a while and thought about what it would say.

"Dear, doctor Mike. Or maybe you still remember your old name, Arnold. I wanted to say something mean about you ruining my life. But after watching the videos, I have to say I miss my body. Even though I would want it back I don't expect you'd give it like that for free. But maybe you could let me enjoy that body once again from someone else's view? What do you think? It might get a lot of views.

Sincerley,

Dr. Mike Arnold Jefferson"

On the other side of the screen sat Arnold in front of the computer, his dick hard. Reading the message from his old body.

"This might be interesting" he said, grinning mischievously.

Two woman called out behind him from the bed:"Coming to bed, honey?"

Arnold smiled and turned around. "Ready for round three?"

Anonymous request from inbox

Could you please write a body swap story where an elderly patient steals Dr. Mike’s body when he is seen by him for a visit?

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #body swapping #celebrity body swap #body swap story #M2m body swap #Old to young body swap #Young to old body swap

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help-itrappedmyself · 1 year ago

Text

Summoning Game Show Part 6

Masterpost

“You had me going for a bit there, but that was pretty good.” Danny admits, clearing the screen away. “How come you know so much about space?”

“Learned some of it in school.” Red replies, hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “I do some work in the sciences now, engineering, and I’ve actually had to go to space a few times for the gig.” The hand lowers as he shrugs. “ Plus, I just like to know things.”

Danny has stars in his eyes now. “You’ve been to space?”

“Oh. Well yeah, I’ve had a few missions. Miss Martian has a ship that the team took.”

Danny’s expression light up even more and Red looks back at his brothers in confusion. “You know a Martian?” It was whispered in awe, Red could barely hear it, but he nods in response.

They stand there for a minute, Danny just staring at Red in some mix of amazement and awe before he shakes himself out of it.

“Right! Well, that’s awesome.” Danny nods to himself and then forcibly turns to face the screen and changes the subject. “Last thing then! You get a letter for the puzzle!”

The puzzle appeared on the screen again with a wave of Danny’s hand.

“ I would like H, please.” Red Robin states.

“What a fantastic guess, there are three H’s!” Danny is trying to resign himself to the fact that he’ll actually have to deal with being King after this. Red was super smart, he doesn’t think he’s going to get out of it at this point.

“Alright, that’s all the letters you will be getting. Before you take a guess at the answer, I am required to tell you that it is a Proper Noun. Please decide who among you will be solving the puzzle.

Red turns to face his brothers but they all just wave him off, motioning for him to go for it. “That’s me, I guess.” He shrugs, turning back to Danny.

Danny nods “Okay, all you have to do in order to meet the Ghost King is solve two puzzles! First the word puzzle, you have 30 seconds.”

A timer starts counting down on the top left of the screen.

Red mouths words to himself for 10 seconds, then asks, “High King Phantom?”

More confetti appears on the screen as the solved puzzle appears.

Danny makes a weird face. “That’s correct!”

There is a lot of clapping and laughing coming from the ghosts in the stands, but it stops when Danny shoots them a glare.

“Alright, last thing.” The podiums disappear and Red steps back towards his family. “The king has been here the whole time, and you will get your meeting with him, as soon as you identify him. You have one guess.”

Hood, Robin, and Nightwing all turn to each other to start whispering, but Red just tilts his head at Danny.

“Well, It’s you isn’t it?” Red asks and his brothers all turn back to stare at him. Danny tilts his head in response. “Well you were the first one here, so you’re the only one that’s been here the entire time. And you’ve been running the show, everyone has listened to you. Also, your shirt has a P on it, inside the D, but I figure that if the D stands for Danny, then the P would have to be Phantom.”

Danny just leans back and groans.

When Danny straightens back as his outfit starts to change, he gains a crown and a cape, his ears turn more pointed and he has fangs now. “So what did you want with me? Is it healthcare? Because we do have a doctor that Hood could see.”

“A doctor?” Hood questions.

“Oh geez you don’t even know do you?” Danny starts rubbing his forehead. “Well, you’ve got to get that taken care of, it’s stunting your core development.”

“ Get what taken care of?”

Danny sputters. “The ectoplasm?!” He waves his arms in Hood’s direction. “It's so old and stagnant and worn out and your core isn’t old enough to make its own ectoplasm yet, so you should really supplement until your core finishes.”

Danny can see that none of them know what he’s talking about and he just shakes his head. “I can’t believe you don’t even know. Haven’t there been mood changes, random bursts of emotions, followed by sluggishness? Aren’t you tired?”

Now everyone is looking at Hood who grumbles. “Well, yeah. But that’s been happening since I died.”

Danny nods as if that makes perfect sense and Dick really would like an explanation. Red and Robin are also just nodding, having noticed the mood swings themselves.

“Relatable, but condolences. Anyways, we could help with that, but I take it that wasn’t why you tried to summon me, so what did you actually want?”

“Nothing that is more important than Hood’s health, if you can help him.” Nightwing interjects.

“Oh. Well, technically you won, so you have the right to an audience to at least ask for whatever else you wanted.” Danny turns and waves in the direction of the stand, motioning someone down. “But If Hood would like to forfeit his right to the audience, he could have a checkup with Frostbite while we meet?”

Hood nods. “I’ll do that. This… Frostbite will be able to explain?”

“Probably better than I could!” Danny says cheerily as he turns to the Yeti heading towards them. “Frostbite, Hood here needs a checkup, if you could help him correct the malnutrition so his core can grow.”

Frostbite nods, “You can come with me, Sir.”

“Bring him back here when you guys are done!” Danny shouts after them as Frostbite leads Hood away. “Now, you guys can come follow me and we’ll sit and talk.”

#batman #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #fanfiction #my writing #red robin #tim drake #robin #red hood #batfamily #nightwing #frostbite #summoning game show #red hood ectoplasm problems

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redsrooftopprincess · 4 months ago

Note

Pls ignore me if your requests are closed buuuuuuutttt

Headcanons for a reader that can't stop 'mirin(staring full love and joy, especially when they're not looking) with infamously insecure Big Red ?

And if not, know that you're loved and appreciated regardless and I'm glad you and your blog exist

Hello my dear Gornack! Hope the new year is treating you well. Thank you for the ask! 🥰

Mountains and Sunsets and You

Raphael x Reader

No warnings

"You got something to say?"

His sudden attention snaps you back into reality.

Shit. Fuck.

Caught red handed, you try to keep cool as heat fills your cheeks.

You were doing it again. He could see you out of the corner of his eye for the last hour. You were sitting on one of the benches, pretending to work, and watching him as he and his brothers worked through their katas. It had almost made him trip twice.

It's always new and exciting at first, but you've already known him for a few months. The novelty should have worn off by now. But it keeps happening. He catches you staring. It's only him, he's paid enough attention to know you don't watch his brothers like this. It's unnerving. Distracting. He'd taken a backhand to the jaw during sparring last week, and even spilled his midnight coffee on April's carpet. Twice.

"No..." you say a little too innocently.

Training had wrapped for the night, and it had been Raphael's turn to put the equipment away, leaving him alone in the dojo with you as you gathered up your paperwork. You stood, turning to leave, when your eyes landed on him. You couldn't help but follow the lines of his side with every stretch, and the way the muscles in his arms shifted under his skin as he almost reverently placed each weapon back on the wall.

There isn't anything wrong with it, per se. You aren't looking at him with hatred or fear or disgust, if anything you look... fascinated. And not in a "weird mutant science experiment" kind of way. He can't explain it, and he can't explain the warmth that pools in his stomach every time he catches you doing it. And it's frustrating as hell.

"Then why the hell are you looking at me?" He growls, "Why the hell are you always looking at me?" He takes three steps towards you before stopping, instinct identifying pain and confusion as an an opponent, but you don't flinch. You know you're not in any real danger. Never from him.

His scales catch the multicolored lights in the lair making him shimmer, and as he fidgets your eyes move over the gentle color shift that will only let you see his markings when the light is just right. You've never met anyone like him, seen anything like him, and everything he does is captivating.

"Because you're beautiful," you say, simply, before you can stop yourself.

This catches him off-guard, and he hesitates for a moment before he scoffs and looks away, "You're hilarious."

"Am I laughing?" You ask, without so much as a smile.

His eyes meet yours, hurt and suspicion deepset in amber. You can't be serious. When your features don't change, and he realizes there's no oncoming punchline, his eyes soften and fall away.

Your jaw tightens. You hate it. You hate the way the world has ground imperfection and insecurity into every single scale. He's worth so much more than this broken place, and he's been beaten into believing he's unworthy of less than this.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" You ask, gently.

"Does what?"

"The fact that I find you beautiful."

He hesitates, "... yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's bullshit." He snaps.

"Why?"

He looks at you incredulously.

"Why?" You repeat.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why?" You nearly demand, "Why not you? Why can't you be beautiful?"

"Because I'm not." The words ring out against the cement walls, as solid and true as the foundations of the earth.

He's not. He can't be. He's not human. He's not normal. He's a 6'5" turtle with chronic pain and a bad attitude. Covered in scars, shell cracked and gouged and broken in places, he's all thick hide and hard edges. How could anyone find that "beautiful?"

A few moments pass, and you gently break the silence, "Can I ask you something?"

"I got a choice?" He sighs, his frustration dissolving into exhaustion. He doesn't want or need a pep talk, and he sure as hell doesn't want someone like you trying to make him feel better. But somewhere, in the short time you've known each other, he's begun to trust you. He motions for you to continue.

"Do you think a mountain is beautiful?"

His gaze returns to yours and blinks twice, "... What?"

"Do you think a mountain is beautiful," you repeat.

"Uh, yeah... I guess..." His brow furrows.

"Do you think..." You think for a moment, "a sunset is beautiful?"

He sighs heavily, shifting his weight, "Yeah. Why. What's this got to do with anything?"

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" A small smile turns the corner of your mouth. He can't help glancing at it.

He hesitates. He just met you, and he really likes spending time with you. You're quick and kind and a hell of a good listener, he's vented to you about his brothers more than once already. You have a way of talking to him that makes things make sense. And Gods, yes, you're beautiful. Like a sun he can't stop staring at, even as his eyes are burning.

"Yes," he finally admits softly, holding your gaze.

You try to ignore the way the word ricochets around your ribcage, and push on, tilting your head slightly, and questioning softly, "Would you ever consider me ugly for not looking enough like a mountain or a sunset?"

"What? No! Why the hell -" he stops when you raise an eyebrow. It dawns on him slowly, and he blinks at you.

You decide it best to let him turn that over for a while. He watches you wordlessly as you walk past him, bumping his arm gently with yours on your way out of the dojo. "See you later, Red," you say with a smile, before disappearing through the door.

....

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

#tmnt #bayverse raphael #tmnt raphael #raphael x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse raphael x reader #raph x reader #bayverse tmnt

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astrolook · 3 months ago

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Decode the Universe: Why astrology and tarot are the ultimate power couple! #6 - Final

Aquarius - Jan 20 -Feb 19 : Venus / Mercury / Moon in Aquarius

Venus in Aquarius - King of Swords - "Love me for my mind… or don’t. Either way, I’m good."

These people looks good, thinks even better.

They are loyal but detached.

Their style of romance is an intellectual exercise.

Straight to the point, no sugarcoating.

Logical, futuristic, and somehow attractive? That's Venus in Aquarius for you.

If venus is afflicted, can be cold as ice and too logical in love. Can be too blunt and ignores others opinions.

Mercury in Aquarius - The Fool - "I have no idea what I’m doing… but it’s brilliant!"

Thinks so outside the box, they forgot boxes exist.

Their ideas sound crazy—until they work.

Spontaneous thinker and quirky AF.

They text at 3 AM with life-changing thoughts.

Conversations with them? A rollercoaster.

If mercury is afflicted, they say wild stuff, then watches your reaction like a science experiment. Believe in crazy conspiracy theories. Easily distracted and reckless curiosity. Loves saying weird things just to confuse people - Troll energy.

Moon in Aquarius - The Star - "Weird? Nah, I’m just from the future."

No matter what happens, they believe in the glow-up.

Feelings? Managed. Chaos? Observed, not absorbed.

Always thinking light-years ahead of you.

They have an unconventional wisdom. Might drop life-changing advice mid-meme.

Their dreams are bigger than the solar system.

If moon is afflicted, they love you from a distance. Loses hope easily and gives up easily.

Pisces - Feb 20 - Mar 20 : Saturn / Jupiter / Mars in Pisces

Saturn in Pisces - Knight of Cups - "Hopeless romantic, but with a five-year plan."

These people now love isn’t a fairy tale—but still believes in magic.

Dreams big, but also does the work.

Will write poetry about you and show up on time.

Soft heart, strong spine.

If saturn is afflicted : wants and waits for the perfect moment, which… never comes. Carries emotional baggage - neatly packed. Trust issues and the walls they built for themselves aren't gonna go down soon.

Jupiter in Pisces - Hanged Man - "Going with the flow… straight into another dimension."

Sees life differently. Finds luck in weird places.

Spiritual AF. Probably has deep conversations with ghosts.

Knows things without knowing how they know.

While others rush, they marinate in wisdom.

Believes the universe handles things for them and trusts the divine timing.

If jupiter is afflicted, they could be the master of procrastination. Could be delusional. Zero sense of urgency. Sacrifices too much and cannot pick a path. Could be staying in an abusive relationship and be waiting for the right time to come out.. No, it won't come.

Mars in Pisces - The Moon - "Fighting battles… mostly imaginary ones."

Mysterious AF and a spiritual warrior.

Could be having prophetic dreams.

These people are the defender of underdogs, lost souls, and stray animals.

Can turn daydreams into reality.

If mars is afflicted, jealousy arises. Passive aggressive. Uses guilt as a weapon. Plays the victim and the villain at the same time.

I hope you all liked it. I'll come back tomorrow with another topic and stay tuned!

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

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buckgasms · 2 years ago

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Dr's. Barnes and Rogers (Part 2)

Ok so we all really enjoyed part 1 amiright? I've done part 2 and it's still not done because this is now my new life 🎀

I am tagging a few people I hope I got everyone! @pattiemac1 @plusultra-kitten @marvelsgirl4ever @saranghaey @xonickibaby @vickie5446 @sarcastickiddo

My warning for you is it's mature and it's Doctor Kink

You had decided to at least investigate the offer made to you by the Doctors a bit further, so you called up Dr Barnes and he happily scheduled a visit for the next evening.

You had a lot of questions, but you were also quite excited at the idea of having a baby and living a potential life of luxury all in the name of science. You were also confused as to why the two doctors were the only candidates for this trial. Surely that wasn't ethical?

⚕️

Back in the familiar office, tonight the air felt more electric with potential. The two doctors, Bucky and Steve as they asked you to call them from now on, were pleased you were there and were keen to make you feel comfortable.

"So... I want to do this. I think I do anyway. But I have questions..."

They both grin broadly and wave a hand at your questions. "That's such good news sweetheart" Bucky says, a bright smile lighting up his face. "Don't worry about the small print just yet! As one potential candidate we need to do a few tests before you sign up!"

You smile a little at him and his excitement, but couldn't help feeling a little worried at the idea of other candidates. What if someone else got the place?

"Perhaps we can get the ball rolling now Buck?" Steve says helpfully and they smile at each other. "Great idea! Let's get to work..." You stutter a little as he takes your hand and pulls you back into his examination room. "Wait you want to do this now?" You manage to blurt out, scanning between them both in a daze. "No time like the present hmm? The sooner we know, the sooner we can answer those questions and get your paperwork started!"

Bucky whirls around the room and grabs various bits of equipment that you don't really notice whilst Steve just stands there and chuckles at his friend. He notices your trepidation and walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder gently. "Don't worry honey, its all normal for these kinds of things. We're here to help you."

You smile as Bucky finishes his prep and they both head to the door. "Sweetheart I need to you strip down totally for this one, and then legs in the stirrups okay? I'll explain the rest as we go." And with that they leave the room.

You stand there shell shocked for a moment. You had planned so many questions and not at all for a physical exam this evening. But you supposed it made sense. Not point signing up for something if you weren't actually able to do it right? Plus the added fear of having this opportunity stolen by someone else made you keen to get going!

You slipped your clothes off and tried to get comfortable again on the bed, legs resting in the stirrups. You covered your chest with your arms and wiggled in place, feeling very exposed.

After a moment they both came back and were less subtle about appreciating your naked form. "Told you didn't I?" Bucky muttered and Steve just hummed in approval as they took their places. Bucky between your legs and Steve up by your head.

"So we have to do two things in this examination. One is to check your general health, and the other is your reaction to stimulus. All you have to do is relax and go with it, ok?" Steve spoke above you, placing his hand right at your shoulder and you could only nod as you heard Bucky pull his gloves on. "Oh...okay, I'll do my best..." You mutter as his hands smooth over your thighs.

Bucky asks Steve to come and look at your folds, pushing them open as he rubs fingers over them. "Hmm already stimulated?" He mutters to Bucky and they both chuckle before he heads back up to you.

"Already doing so well honey" he says catching your concerned expression before pulling on his own gloves. Steve then takes his time examining your upper half, pressing into your neck and stomach, measuring your heartbeat and blood pressure all whilst Bucky is taking notes and watching your exposed heat.

Then Steve's fingers start squeezing at your breasts, he pulls and tweaks your nipples making you whimper and squirm. "Ok easy sweetness, does that feel good?" You struggle with an answer until Bucky taps your thigh slightly firmly.

"You have to tell us the truth. If you don't give us an accurate response we can't tailor the insemination process for the optimum results. So tell us what feels good and what you need ok?"

You nod and let out an exhale. "That felt good" you pant as Steve continues his tweaking and twisting. As he does, Bucky rubs his fingers through your folds, now embarrassingly soaked which he doesn't hesitate to mention. "Think you like that a lot don't you sweetheart?"

"Hmm yes!" You groan as he rubs soft circles around your clit and your legs shake in the stirrups. Steve leans down and continues to torment you. "What about if I sucked on your tits honey? Would you like that? While Dr Barnes plays with you?"

You whine and nod as he chuckles at you, moving away to latch on to your sensitive buds. Bucky tuts as he watches on, before grabbing a vibrator and pressing it to your sensitive clit. Your hips buck as he turns the dial up and you squeak at Steve's mouth sucking at your nipples.

"I need to... Can I please come?" You strain as the pressure in your tummy builds towards a peak. Bucky hums in consideration before pulling the vibrator away. "No sweetness, we need to build you up a little more. Plenty of time for that later."

You pant as Steve also pulls away leaving your nipples swollen and sensitive in his wake. You wriggle in position, desperate for some relief but finding none in your current predicament.

"I want.... Need more, please" you moan, not caring how desperate you sound. This is already the best experience of your life and you don't want it to end.

"Tell us what you need now sweetheart" Bucky says, gently tickling at your thigh, running painfully close to touching your heat. You almost sob as you try and maintain your dignity, "just wanna come..." You feel him pinch your soft skin, "you want to come, please Dr. Barnes" he says darkly, but it sends a thrill over your body. "Please, Dr Barnes, please can I come?"

They both chuckle and settle at the lower half of you, where they promptly ignore you and talk between themselves. "I think that one to open her up?" Steve says motioning to something on the table next to him. "You wanna taste?" Bucky says and you feel two fingers probe your heat and you watch as they suck their gloved fingers, moaning as they enjoy the taste of you.

"Do you think I should try...?" Bucky says and Steve chuckles before they glance at you. Steve sinks his fingers into your pussy and curls his fingers making you moan and nibble on your fingers. "Hey beautiful? You want something your mouth and I'll make you come like this?" His thumb circles your clit and your eyes roll backward.

"Yes please Doctor Rogers, please" you beg and they laugh again as Bucky moves away and comes up to your head. He carefully adjusts the bed so your laying flat and pulls so your head hangs off the edge. He strokes your hair gently as your fingers grab at his trousers, pulling them downwards and moaning as his cock springs free. You struggle to grab it so he guides it into your waiting mouth, groaning as you immediately suck, reacting to Steve's torturous fingers.

"Holy fuck" he growls as he watches his cock disappear into your mouth, throat bulging as he slowly fucks you. You moan around him as Steve is more fast paced, jerking his fingers and rubbing your clit harshly as he grabs you towards your peak. You feel hands pawing at your breasts again as your legs shake and hands claw at leather.

"Think we've found a sweet spot here" Steve says as he feels you flutter around his fingers. When your face is covered in spit and tears Bucky pulls out of your hungry mouth and watches with hot desire. You moan and whine, "Please can I come, please?" Steve's fingers jerk and suddenly you are coming hard the sensation is enough to have you shaking as it ripples through your whole body.

Bucky lifts you back on to the bed properly so you lay more comfortably. He perches on the bed next to you and strokes a gentle hand across your face and hair. "You are doing so well sweetheart, we need to do one more check and then we'll have our results ok?"

You are on cloud nine as you nod at him, managing to murmer a quiet, "yes doctor Barnes." Your moan becomes louder as you feel a rubber cock press against your pussy and stretch you out before pressing further in. "It's big..." You whine and he strokes your face again. "I know sweetie but I know you can take it. Gonna need to be a good girl and take it for us ok? Don't want to miss out do you?"

You moan again as Steve starts pumping the cock into you, a steady but slow pace. You feel every inch of it filling you up, but it feels so good. Bucky strokes your hair again and you try and focus on what he's saying, "so you like having your pretty tits played with hmm? And a cock in your mouth, is that right sweetie?" You feel heat rush to your cheeks but you know you have to admit it. You want to be a good patient after all.

"Yes Doctor, it...ah.. it felt really good..." He smiles and leans down where you instinctively kiss him, his lips capturing yours in a breathtaking kiss. He breaks it as you whine at Steve's actions, increasing the pace below. "I think you should thank Dr. Rogers for making you come by letting him use this pretty mouth? What do you think?"

Your head floats as you find yourself nodding enthusiastically at the idea. He smiles warmly and moves away whispering something to his colleague as they swap places. Befor Steve has even got to you, you are hanging over the edge of the bed, ready and waiting.

"Eager little thing aren't you?" He chuckles, guiding his cock into your mouth as Bucky had, slowly choking you on his long length. As you sucked, you felt the another rubber head pressing at your ass and squirmed at the sensation.

"Easy honey, Dr Barnes knows what he's doing, just relax" Steve reassured you but they both waited until your body relaxed again before continuing. In moments you are being fucked from both ends, rubber filling your ass and pussy, and Dr Rogers working your mouth.

You squeal around him, pleasure rocketing through your body as the pace the set makes the table beneath you creak and your body shudder. You hands claw at Steve's thighs and your hips buck, chasing the actions of Bucky. It doesn't take long with the overstimulation of your senses before you are on the peak of pleasure. As Bucky did, Steve removes himself as you cry out, your climax crashing through your body, vision turning white as he coaxes you through it.

You lay there panting for a moment as they whisper hushed tones, very excited by the sounds of things. You can barely move for the pleasure still running through your body but you slowly come back to your self as a glass of water is pressed into your hands and a blanket is laid across your body .

"Sweetheart, that was amazing, you did so well. Do you feel ok?" Bucky asked stroking your arm and brushing your hair out of your face. "I'm not complaining about any of that" you giggle in between sips of cold water.

They both chuckle and pull up a chair each next to you while you relax. "So I think we agree that you are a perfect fit for the trial, are you still happy to take part?" Heat rushes to your face nod shyly behind your glass, giggling a little at their pink eager faces.

"But can I ask something now?" They nod as you sit up a little in your seat. "Are you the donors in this trial?" Steve coughs a little and blushes a deeper shade of pink. Bucky decides to come clean, a bit, and goes back to stroking your hair.

"We are sweetness. We know it's not usual, but this is our experiment and we want to be involved in every aspect. From choosing the right woman, to providing the sperm and anything else needed along the way."

"And what is this experiment in aid of?" You ask, but he brushes the question aside. "That's the boring bit, don't worry about that, just know that if you want to be involved, you are fully accepted."

You smile after a moment. "Ok let's sign the paperwork..."

Part Three

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #doctor steve rogers #bucky x reader x steve #steve x reader x bucky #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers doctor #doctor kink

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corvidcrossbow · 1 year ago

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~•♡•~ Total Eclipse Of The Heart

➳ Summary: You take Daryl to watch the 2017 solar eclipse (Daryl x GN!Reader)

➳ Setting: Southern Virginia, August 21st, 2017 (in the 6 year timeskip in season 9)

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Nothing

➳ A/N: Simple thing cuz I hated Leah watching something as special as the eclipse w/ Daryl in the show cuz I DO NOT LIKE her ass so I rewrote it cuz I believe there's few things more bonding than watching an eclipse with someone. Whippin out the dad music reference on this one. (I am working on reqs! I just have training for my job which my boss very reassuringly dubbed “bootcamp” and health shit is beating my ass I need to call like 3 specialty clinics again um 🗿)

“Ya ever gon’ tell me where we goin'?”

“Nope. Almost there,” You replied, a cheeky grin on your face as you swiveled your head back to glance at Daryl who sat behind you on his motorcycle. You'd dragged him out of his guilt-ridden solitude in the forest and demanded he get on, saying you needed to show him something and would not be taking ‘nah’ for an answer. You'd been driving southwest for nearly two hours now, headed towards something specific.

Daryl had little sense of the date, having spent nearly the last 3 ½ years out in the woods, wrapped up in his search for Rick. You stayed with him from time to time, Carol checking in as well, but he was too stubborn to go home with either of you no matter how many times you urged it. Even if he knew the day, you weren't sure he'd even know why it was special.

You, however, had been tracking the calendar and lunar cycles, and kept one specific date and pattern in your mind for the last 7 years; August 21st, 2017. You remembered ages ago, reading on science forums and listening to programs on the television, that today, the paths of the moon and the sun would perfectly align and grace a total solar eclipse across the entirety of the United States.

Your lives were such shit in so many ways: flesh eating, rotting corpses snarling after you at every second, run in after run in with malicious and corrupt people and groups, the lack of food, water, shelter and security, so many people gone – and that didn't include everything from before the dead reawoke. And with Daryl unadmittably depressed after the bridge, you would've done anything to show him there were other things in life to focus on. To live for.

So you left Alexandria early in the morning, found Daryl's camp, and forced him to join you. At first he'd thought something godawful had once again disturbed the communities, so bad you couldn’t tell him. But when you started driving the opposite direction, he grew confused and repeatedly asked what was going on, yet you never gave him an answer. Still, he trusted it was important – trusted you – and let you lead him.

❥-》》—————➣

You pulled off the side of the road, powering down the engine and putting up the kickstand, sliding off and stepping to walk into the forest. You'd gone further down into Virginia, knowing that was closer to totality. It wouldn't be complete, but the distance made a difference. “Alright, c'mon.”

Daryl grabbed your wrist, tugging you back and catching your attention, his eyebrows narrowed. “Really? Tha hell's s’all this? Ya haul me'ah hundred miles away tah walk in tha damn forest?”

“Ya spend all your time in a forest anyway, Dixon.” His expression hardered a little, and you sighed. “Please just follow me. I promise you, it's worth it.”

He looked over the features of your face, judging the sentiment they conveyed, and after a moment let you go. You were already here, no point in going back now. As you spun back around, he begrudgingly trailed after you.

You scanned the environment as you went, stopping near an opening in the canopy of trees that gave view to the sky. You could tell by the slanting of shadows and the slightly abnormal shape of light above you that the process had already begun, all that was left was to observe. So you set your bag down and sat, motioning for Daryl to as well.

“Thi'sa picnic or sum?” He questioned, grunting a little as he unsurely slung his belongings off his shoulder to the ground and did the same, settling beside you.

“Could be, I do have some food.” He didn't seem amused. “But no, not a picnic. You know what the day is? Any idea why it's meaningful?”

“Ts'summer, kno’ tha’. M'ah supposed tah kno’?”

“Maybe, I don't expect you to. Here.” You twisted and opened your bag, reaching for a welding mask you'd brought along and passed it to him. “Look at the sun.”

The archer eyed the facial shield, then you, but listened and held it to his face before shifting his gaze up. He squinted, taking sight of the arc carving that ate into the historically circular form of the burning celestial body. And you explained; “It's August 21st… 2017.”

He had to think for a bit. “Tha eclipse?” He lowered the mask and peered back at you. Memories lodged deep in the layers of his mind sparked; learning about eclipses way back in highschool and hearing his teacher mention it, then the annular one in ‘94 and seeing pictures plastered all over the news where they discussed the future.

“Yeah, thought we should see it. It'll look better down here, not perfect, but still… and the lens on that is dark enough it shouldn't hurt our eyes,” You answered, taking your own look before laying back and using your bag as a pillow. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but that's roughly the last thing you cared about right now.

He couldn't help but just stare for a minute, studying how nonchalant you were about everything. How you'd so easily removed him from his rut when so many other attempts had failed, even with his cluelessness around your intentions – like some larger force took hold and finally willed him to break his destructive routine.

Daryl sprawled out next to you on the forest floor, trading the welding shield back and forth over the course of the next half hour, as well as a piece of paper to see the casted geometry. You both watched as more and more of the sun was etched away, taking mental images each time and comparing the new form to the old. It was mostly quiet, lost in similar awe but varying thoughts. You inched closer every time it was his turn, assuming he noticed but didn't point it out.

“Y'know… total solar eclipses are meant to be when the deities and energies fuse, just as the paths do. A window for opportunities and transformation… time for change,” You commented, recalling all people said about the symbolism of such an event. He gave an ‘Mm’, just so you knew he'd heard you, but paid more attention to the progression in the ethers.

The world around you began to rapidly darken, a sliver of orange glow visible in the makeshift glasses. Knowing it was close, you slid your left palm into his right, weaving fingers together, and he returned the hold, still remaining absorbed in the view.

The moon crossed over the sun – at least as best it would from your vantage point; golden rays illuminating around solid black. As Daryl's eyes locked on the sky, taking it all in, yours locked on him, choosing to watch him over a potentially once in a lifetime occurrence. He lowered the mask to briefly see it fully, now reaching for the sheet.

He looked at peace, maybe for the first time in his life: the constant storm of thoughts that persistently clouded his mind finally parting, even if for just a small moment. You witnessed the glitter of genuine emotion return to his blue's, something you'd feared was so long abandoned it may have been forgotten. Rich browns of his wavy hair glowed iridescent auburns when shimmers of sunlight peeked through the leaves, perfectly complementing everything about his being.

You knew you each needed that change.

“I love you.”

He took a second, making sure the sound of your voice was real and not crafted by his own imagination. His head turned, somewhat staggered to find your eyes already meeting his. It was impossible to rip away, your visions warping together as you seemed to merge, entranced by the little crescents that reflected on each other's irises. His free hand ditched the paper and reached over as he partly rolled to his side.

“For a long time.”

In fluid movements, Daryl's calloused fingers smoothed across the delicate skin on your cheek, leaning in and bringing you to him in a longing kiss. You didn't entirely expect it, although you didn't expect anything in particular at all, too unsure of how he'd react. But you pushed back against him, deepening the kiss and paying no thought to anything beside how it felt to finally overlap with him – till he broke away.

“I love ya too,” He mused, accent thickening in the confession. When you opened your mouth to continue, he shut you up with another peck and angled your face straight above. “Watch. M'not bein’ tha reason ya miss this.”

Words could wait, but the eclipse would not. So you obliged, cuddling closer to him and squeezing his hand as birds and insects sung in a concerned ensemble triggered by the daylight's disappearance.

The tranquility was eerie, a sensation mostly left in the rubble of society and replaced by prevalent chaos. You wondered if the feeling was shared elsewhere; at home with everyone in Alexandria, with survivors across the entire rest of the country. Maybe those who didn't know thought the holy spirit was returning to rescue your raptured souls. Did the walkers pause to look too? Everything so out of the ordinary it caught their attention?

But none of that mattered to you, because you had it here. And you basked in it with the one person you'd always hoped you would've.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

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