#I do eventually plan to post stuff to AO3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scary-grace · 1 month

Text

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

424 notes · View notes

venomous-qwille · 1 year

Text

Ghost in the Machine

This is the master post for Ghost in the Machine links, character refs and FAQs.

I will try my best to keep this post as up to date as possible.

What is Ghost in The Machine?

GITM is a DCA AU and a fic set in the retrofuture (2055ish) long after Fazco has shut down. An eccentric collector has been acquiring versions of the Daycare Attendant animatronic from closed locations around the world. The story involves a reader character who has been brought into repair the original post-Ruin DCA from the games, and hijinks ensue. There are also ghosts.

Where can I read the fic?

GITM is currently being posted on Ao3, and is updated every three weeks on Saturdays. The fic is being beta'd by the tremendously talented @bubbiethesaur. You can read GITM here!

There is also a podfic, which you can find here:

Updates to the podfic will be sporadic, so please be patient <3

Where can I see the art?

On this blog I use the #gitm au and #ghost in the machine au tags for GITM related content. If you are looking for art of a specific character, they also have their own tags: #misuta moon #nova #soleil #clip.exe #sunspot mk1 #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #sombra #sunflower #mr sandman

FAQ~

Why haven't you answered my GITM ask?

One of three reasons: 1) your ask was too spoilery* 2) I'm waiting to answer it with art 3) ADHD

*spoilery includes but is not limited to: any questions about dual-AI or XYZ character's sun/moon variant; questions about character backstories and lore; questions about characters that have not featured in the fic yet (e.g Nova, Sanii, Harvest, Sunflower, Sandman etc); asks speculating about potential future scenarios (don't get me wrong, I love these asks, but I can't answer them!)

Where are all the Moons?

Read and find out. Seriously. There are at least 5 Moons who are core to the plot but I'm not going to talk about them, no matter how nicely you ask!

Does XYZ character have a Sun/Moon counterpart?

Some of them do, some of them don't. The dual-AI stuff is majorly plot related. If I'm not talking about someone's Sun/Moon counterpart, rest assured you will find out eventually. I won't be spoiling any of it on tumblr though :)

Can I create fanart of GITM?

Yes yes yes please do and please tag me when you post it so I can see it/reblog! If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create fanfic of GITM?

Super flattered about this. I have a longform answer to this question which you can read here. But tl;dr yes you can, please tag/credit me, do not spoil/try to write the lore, and please do not write GITM au (e.g mafia, mer, medieval). I have my own plans for this stuff and I would prefer to release the designs/stories in my own time. If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.

Can I create NSFW GITM content?

Until recently I had blanket perms that allowed NSFW GITM content. I'm updating this to let you guys know I'm no longer comfortable with people making this content. Back when the community was small, I felt differently, but as time has passed a lot has changed and I've found myself becoming increasingly anxious about it. If this boundary changes again in the future, I will update this FAQ.

Do you have character refs I can use?

There is a collection of art 'refs' for each character on the Misutamojis discord. Latest link here.

There are no proper call-out sheets/refs currently, but I have a huge body of art for the characters on this blog which should give you more than enough info for most of them. I will get around to creating proper refs eventually, in which case I will link them here.

Where can I find the playlist?

I update the spotify playlist fairly regularly, if you have any music recs you can send them over in an ask! You can listen to the playlist here!

I've heard there are secret GITM drabbles, where can I find them?

I used to post frequent drabbles from future chapters in the DCA Palooza discord, I have recently deleted the majority of them as people were going back and binging them which hadn't been the intended reading experience. Anywho, this question probably refers more to the spicy drabbles (which people have very kindly made a lot of delicious art for). These are still around! You just need to access the spicy channel and do some digging.

Is there a GITM discord?

Nope! There is a server for GITM emotes and a busy thread in the DCA Palooza, but currently I don't have any plans to make a GITM-centric discord community. If that does happen in the future it's likely I will simply convert the emotes server (Misutamojis).

It finally happened, I converted Misutamojis. You can join the GITM discord here.

Can I smooch the robots?

Yes.

All of them?

All of them.

#master post #ghost in the machine #ghost in the machine au #gitm au #soleil #clip.exe #sanii drop #misuta moon #sunspot mk1 #harvest moon #sunflower and the sandman #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #nova #gitm yn #sombra #SoundCloud

775 notes · View notes

lemonisntreal · 10 months

Text

Some sketches because it's been months since I drew these idiots oops☝️🥰

HI THERE. It's been a minute, sorry about that lol. I took a tiny out-of-nowhere and sorta involuntary break from the fandom because I lost interest for a second, but I'm slowlyyyy making my way back. With art, and some news about Tone Deaf for the people who are still wondering about that.

Also I see there's some asks in my box, I'll get to that eventually, I see you ;-; dw

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

As stated, I momentarily lost a bit of interest with this movie- partially because I've recently been ensnared in a new fixation that will not be named right now, but yeah. I'm digging my heels in rn, because the last thing I wanna do is abandon this project. But, also, I've clearly bitten off more than I can chew with this being a comic lmao. In over my head and going through all 5 stages of grief and currently on acceptance.

The story got bigger. Like, a LOT bigger. Too big to capture every thought in a drawing and panel it and put it out as a perfectly polished comic without seriously burning myself out. It really doesn't help that my art style evolves by the second too apparently, so I've reached a middle-ground:

Tone Deaf is going to be a fic with some comic-like segments in it. An illustrated fanfic bc I still love showing and not telling a little too much.

This'll help me not only get stuff out faster, but also to help me fill in the gaps I didn't know how to draw with just text. So I can focus on just drawing the juicy shit. This also means it'll all be collected over on Ao3 in a neat little package, and I honestly prefer that over having a bunch of posts of pages that might be hard to find. So yeah, that's the plan.

Another bonus is that the frames can now be a lot more polished and nice looking [in glorious color] rather than hastily mashed together due to my bad habit of going overboard on singular frames without realizing it.

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

Tldr; Tone Deaf is technically still gonna be a comic, it's just now gonna be supplemented with word-based fic mixed in because I made the project way too fucking big [the first Act has like 20 chapters I'm going to literally die]. Also it's gonna be on Ao3 and I'll probably be posting all the art here alongside any updates I make so huzzah! Help me :>

281 notes · View notes

writing-blog-iguess · 8 days

Text

Online matchup 11

Summery: Jason said he was going to be out of town, but that doesn’t stop Red Hood from checking in once in a while. But there are more pressing matters Y/n is dealing with, and Y/n has live with what they learned and they’re not sure how to handle it.

Warning: fluff I think, swearing, reader is having a crisis anyways. So is Jason.

A/N: I’m trying to get my rhythm back after everything went to shit, so I am starting with a new chapter of this. Hope you like it, it’s the only thing I finished before everything happened with my mother-in-law. And don’t worry, I still plan on posting the other ficus I promised, I’m just trying not to overwhelm myself. Also, this was 100% inspired the new arc of Batman: Wayne Family Adventures on webtoon

Ao3

Master list

Taglist: @teapartydreams @adorabluesposts

——————

March 14

Roy

How goes it with Jason?

Y/n

Why?

Why do you have the need to keep my number?

Roy

Because one day we will meet, and we will have to be friends

Y/n

Because of Jason?

Roy

Because of Jason

But this way, we can get ahead of the game

And I don’t have to pretend to like you for I will already like you when that day comes

Y/n

You’re so weird

Roy

Yeah but aren’t we all a little weird in our own way?

Y/n

I guess

Roy

So?

Answer my question

Y/n

So demanding

Just ask Jason

He is your friend

Roy

Yeah, but he doesn’t like talking about personal things while working

Y/n

So you’re going to get information from me?

What makes you think I’ll answer?

Roy

I could always ask Conner

Y/n

Why would he know about my relationship?

Roy

He’s dating your sister

And he is friends with with Tim

Y/n

Damn

You’re right

Roy

Always am

Y/n

Mm, I don’t think so

But things with Jason is good

We’ve aired out our worries and continue to see each other regularly

Roy

Good

Y/n

Why’d that feel threatening?

Y/n

Your friend Roy is something else

Jason

What?

When the fuck did you meet Roy?

Y/n

Technically I haven’t physically met him

But Conner made a group chat the other week and he was in it?

And now he has taken to texting me

It’s wild

Jason

This was not how I wanted the two of you to meet

Y/n

It is what it is

My mom always said I needed more friends

Jason

I doubt this is how she wanted that to happen

Y/n

It is what it is

Don’t be too mad

Jason

I’m not

You guys were bound to meet eventually

Just not like this

Y/n

Yeah but that’s okay

I kind of like Roy

Though sometimes it feels like he’s threatening me when he talks

But other then that he’s okay

Jason

Nice to know that you have other options in the dating world if this doesn’t work out

Y/n

Okay I wouldn’t go that far

He’s nice and all

But I’m not the type of person to go after my ex’s best friend

Jason

I’m just saying

Y/n

So am I

Jason

I mean, there’s always Red Hood you could go after

Y/n

I have many regrets

And telling you my crush on him is the biggest one

Jason

I think it’s cute

Y/n

I think it’s unattainable

Jason

Maybe, maybe not

Y/n

What’s that suppose to mean?

Jason

Nothing you need to worry about

Y/n

Okay, well now I’m worried

Jason

Mm, well that’s to bad

On an unrelated note,

I might be a little distant for a bit

Got stuff I need to work on

So our dinner date has to be on pause till I get back.

Y/n

We had a dinner date?

Jason

I love how that’s your takeaway from that

Y/n

Well I mean

I feel like that’s something I would remember

Jason

...

I didn’t ask you, did I?

Y/n

That seems to be the case

Jason

Well, I guess I’ll have to ask you when I get back

Y/n

What?

Booo

There’s a thump outside your window that has you looking up from your book. You freeze, waiting for something to happen. When nothing happens, you go back to your book.

Before you can focus on the words, you hear something from beyond your window. Head snapping to it, you narrow your eyes as if you could see through it.

When the sounds kept coming, so did your curiosity. Sighing, you set the book down and pushed your blankets as you got off the bed to investigate.

Drawing the curtains open, you come face to face with someone you thought you'd never see again. You blinked a few times to see if you were seeing things. But you weren't and it was Red Hood that sat on your fire escape.

Opening your window, you leaned out to see what he was doing better. He wasn't injured but he was heaving. Like he was running from something.

"Come here often?" you asked once your assessment was done. You watched in amusement as he jumped slightly, hand hovering over his holster as he turned around

“Why are you awake so late at night?" he asked instead. You shrugged and rested your chin on your hand.

"Wasn't tired," you answered, eyes straying down to the streets below when you heard shouts. "So, I thought you usually fight thugs. You don't seem to be the hiding type."

Red Hood shrugged and relaxed, leaning back on the wall. "Don't really feel like fighting tonight. Figured Batman can have this one.”

"I thought you hated him," you said, surprised.

"Love hate relationship I guess."

Silence fell as you watched the Gotham night bustle with life, enjoying the sounds. "You hungry or something?" you asked, and could see the hesitation when he realized that he'd have to remove the helmet. "I can turn my back if you’re more comfortable with that," you suggested. At his nod, you stood and beelined to the kitchen. Once the food was plated and warmed, you grabbed a water bottle and walked back.

"It isn't much, but at least it's something,” you said as you handed the food over. He granted and you turned around. Sitting on the floor back leaning against the window. You heard the click and hiss coming from behind. Though you were curious to see what his face looked like, you promised not to peak.

"So, do you feed everyone who stops on your fire escape or am I just special?" he asked around a mouthful of food. Your checks warmed and was very glad that he couldn't see.

"Only the ones I like,” you teased.

"That implies you have visitors," he pointed out.

"And if I do?”

"Then you should be worried." You snorted, hugging your knees to your chest.

"I'm on the sixth floor. I don't know who would come to my window.”

“Didn't stop me.”

"Guess you’re just special."

"So, should I be worried once your boyfriend gets home?" Red Hood asked when there was a lull in the conversation. You hummed and rested your chin on your knees

"I don't think so,” you answered, "I live alone."

"So no boyfriend? Or girlfriend?"

"No girlfriend," you confirmed, "I'm not sure if he's my boyfriend.”

Jason's heart leapt in his chest, and he rubbed his chest with nerves. "Sounds complicated."

"Not complicated,” you hummed, "I mean, I would like to call him my boyfriend but we've been talking and we've been on a couple of dates. But we haven't talked about what we are. Which is fine, I don't need a label to tell me how I feel about him."

"How do you feel about him?" he asked when you trailed off.

"I really really like him. And I trust him a lot too, and I could see myself falling in love with him. I just need to trust myself, you know? I'm just afraid to fuck it up with him. Like, I have his heart in my hands and I'm afraid l'Il break it. His been through so much and I don't want to be added on to list of how I fucked it up."

Jason's heart went out to you, and could understand where you were coming from. He is on the same boat as you.

"Sounds like this is a conversation you need to have with him," he said, voice a little rough. He cleared his throat and you nodded. "Not with some vigilante." You let out a wet laugh, and wiped your eyes when you realized you were crying.

“Yeah, guess you're right," you said. "Sorry for putting that all on you. You might have some relationship problems of your own."

"I wouldn't say that," he muttered, and you could hear movement from behind you. Once you heard the familiar click, you moved to sit on your knees and turned around, leaning your forearms on the window sill. "Thanks for the food.”

"Wasn't much but thanks for listening to a random cizitians worries.”

“It's what we do," he said, getting a genuine laugh from you and Jason smiled.

One of his favourite sounds and he'll never get tired of it. He gave you a two finger salute and ran down the stairs.

You stood up and watched as he disappeared. You bit your lip to keep from smiling and leaned out the window to grab the dishes. He was an interesting person, you had to admit

And if you meet him again well you wouldn't be opposed to that.

And meet him you did.

Three days later, you're in your room finishing some homework when you hear a thud outside your window. Setting your books aside, you crawl off your bed and towards your window. You opened your window with a smile. “One would think you're here to- holy shit! Are you okay?" you exclaimed when you saw his bleeding arm.

Red Hood looked up and you could feel the scowl behind his helmet. "Are you ever sleeping?"

"Do you ever not get hurt while being a hero?" you shot back. He bristled and nodded in satisfaction when he didn’t respond. “Are you okay though? That looks like it hurts.”

“Fine,” he grunted, “just a graze.”

“Just a graze,’ he says while bleeding,” you mocked, giving him a look. "You've been shot at, forgive me if I don't believe you.”

"Believe what you like. I don't care."

"Well someone's grumpy," you said and opened the way. “Come, let’s get that fixed before you bleed to death.”

“Are you always this sarcastic?" he asked, but didn't move. You stepped back and put your hands on your hips and raised an eyebrow.

"I don't bite," you answered, and quirked your lip. "Unless asked."

"I'll take that as a yes," he said with a laugh. Shaking his head, he ducked through the window with a groan. "You don't strike me as someone who invites people over,” he said, looking around the room as he followed you.

“I'm not, this is just repaying you for saving my life a couple of months ago." You gestured towards the chair as you went to the bathroom. "Have a seat. I'll be back.” After rummaging through your bathroom, you found the first aid kit and came back to find Red Hood sitting with his jacket off.

You pulled a chair closer to him, and set the kit down before opening it. "It’s going to sting a bit," you warned, and he only grunted. "Okay then," you said and started cleaning the bullet wound. "Good news, you don't need stitches."

"Bad news?" he asked and you startled, not expecting him to say anything.

"It might scar but I doubt it."

“What’s one more scar?” he questioned and you eyed him after you taped the gauze. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, averting your gaze back to his arm. You rolled down his sleeve, only to give your hands something to do. “Hurt anywhere else?”

“Nah, that was the best of it,” he said and crossed his arms. “Are you a nurse or something?”

“Or something,” you answered. You’re unsure how you know, but you know that he’s giving you a flat look. “Engineer student,” you said with a little wave. “I happen to get injuries a lot, and instead of going to the doctors, I learned to treat myself properly. It’s come in handy a few times.”

“So you know how to do stitches?”

You shook your head and leaned back into the chair. “In theory, sure. But I’ve never had to do them. I’ve always gone to the doctors if I need them.”

“Guess I could be your practice dummy,” he mused and you leaned over slightly to poke his side.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said, poking him again. To which he slapped your hand away. “I’m not going to be responsible for scaring Red Hood even more.”

“I think if it came from you, I think I wouldn’t mind.”

Flushing, you turned away from him and sniffed. “Well regardless, this is a one time thing. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

Except it did.

Over the course of the week, Red Hood would come by unexpectedly. Whether to hide out from his partners, or in need of a nurse that he felt safe coming to you or simply to talk to someone.

And each night you sat in your room, waiting. It was never the same time but always early enough that you wouldn’t be going to sleep late. Despite your messed up sleep schedule, Red Hood was determined to fix it.

And every night, your feelings grew a little more. But you never acted on them, your heart belonged to Jason, even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

March 22

Y/n (10:20 am)

So you know that crush I have on red hood?

Ellie

The one that you squashed after falling for Jason?

Yes I remember

Y/n

It came back full force

I think I’m in love

Ellie

Y/n I swear

It’ll go away eventually

And how?

You’ve never met him

Y/n

I’ve met him twice

Ellie

The only time you’ll meet a hero or whatever is if one you’re a criminal or two you need help

And I doubt it’s the first one

Y/n

Hey!

I can be a criminal if I wanted too

Ellie

Yeah but your too nice and in love to be one

Y/n

Touché

Anyways, I’ve meet him and the second time we’ve talked

He’s nice

Ellie

You can not fall for people who are nice y/n

That’s how you get hurt

Y/n

What about Jason?

Ellie

I think he’s different

The both of you have been hurt too many times and you both know that

So you’re taking the time to get to know each othere

Y/n

When’d you get so wise?

Ellie

Someone had to when you moved out

Y/n

Listen here you little shit

Ellie

I’m listening

Y/n

Asshole

Ellie

You know what would be funny?

If Jason turned out to be Red Hood

Ha! You fell for the same dude twice

Y/n

Why would you say that?

ELLIE

WHY

WOULD

YOU

SAY

THAT

Ellie

It’s a JOKE

Y/n

IT'S NOT A VERY FUNNY ONE

IT'S LIKE SAYING CONNER IS SUPERBOY

Conner (1:30 pm)

WHY WOULD YOU TELL ELLIE IM SUPERBOY

Y/n

It was a JOKE

It’s not like you actually are

Conner

…

Y/n

ARE YOU ACTUALLY

Conner

Y/n

Holy shit

It was suppose to be a joke

Conner

NOT A REALLY FUNNY ONE

Y/N

You don’t say

Conner

Why’d you even say it anyways?

Y/n

She started it

Telling me that Jason could be red hood

And that I fell for him twice

Which is insane

Conner

Absolutely insane

Doesn’t have a reason to be him anyways

I mean RH is mean and not really a hero, you know?

Who shoots at people and almost kills them?

That's not Jason at all

Jason’s sweet and caring and the total opposite of RH

Y/n

…

I’m telling Jason you think he’s sweet and caring

Conner

I can see why he likes you

You’re both the same

Y/n

Sweet and caring?

Conner

Go away

Y/n

Nah

Your dating my sister

Your stuck with me forever

Conner

Or until we break up

Y/n

True

But then you'll die :)

Conner

somehow, that smiley face makes it worst

Y/n

You hated your sister. Like sure, you love her and any given time you wouldn't mind talking to her. But at this moment while you were pacing your room. You really hated your sister.

You know what would be funny? . If Jason turned out to be Red Hood. Ha! You fell for the same dude twice.

You couldn't stop thinking about her words, and your curiosity ran too deep for you to leave it alone. You opened your laptop ready to go snooping on Batman's computer but you stopped yourself and started pacing.

"If Jason wanted me to know, he’d tell me, right?" you asked out loud. "But then again, he wouldn't tell me because he isn't Red Hood." Turning, you walked back, hands moving in front of you.

"But then again, if he was him then he had good reasons for not telling me." Turn, walk. "But if it is him, does that mean the whole family's a hero family?" you questioned and groaned. "Oh! That would make sense. All those nights helping his brothers with something.”

Turn, walk. “It would be so embarrassing if he was. All the things I said to Red Hood about Jason. And vide versa,” you said in realization. You stopped walking and covered your face with your hands. “The conversation I should have had with Jason instead of Red Hood. Plus I told him I had a crush on Red Hood! Oh no!

“And if he is actually Red Hood, it would be an invasion of privacy if I look into it.”

You stared at your laptop as you chewed your lip in thought. "Fuck it," you said, and dived onto the bed. Moving your laptop to your lap, you began typing away praying that Batman doesn't notice your presence.

Once entering the back door you created, you began your search. It didn't take long to find what you were looking for and you spent the next twenty minutes reading everything Batman had on Red Hood

You closed your computer and fell back onto your bed, covered your face with your hands in defeat. Why? Why couldn't you leave well enough alone? Why did you have to let your curiosity run wild? And why did you have to listen to your sister? Questions you didn't know the answers to, and none were important. There was only one that needed an answer.

What are you going to do now that you know the truth?

You couldn't talk to anyone about it, and the one person you could, doesn’t know that you know.

Sitting back down, you opened your laptop with the intention of getting rid of the backdoor to Batman's computer. Just as you were deleting it, something caught your attention.

Still not knowing better, you followed it and covered your mouth in shock.

The Joker was out, and he was on the hunt.

Y/n (2:23 am)

I hope your doing okay

#jason todd x reader #online match up #jason todd x gn!reader #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd #Batman imagine #my writing

68 notes · View notes

linatheweirdooo · 13 days

Text

Don't hurt me

I wrote this fic on ao3 originally as a vent, but due to the positive reception I'm gonna post it here too :3 here's the link to it on ao3 if you wanna give it a kudos or reply or read any other stuff I wrote bc I don't plan on posting that much on here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56567776/chapters/143770822#workskin

TW; implied S/A (it's hurt/comfort but the subject is mentioned and implied)

It all happened so fast.

The sensation of water trickling down her synthetic skin, the studs of soap covering her body. It was a normal day, V just wanted to take a shower to clean herself off after an especially bloody hunt. Until she slipped.

Her entire frame collapsed onto the soapy ground, and her optics struggled to make out what was happening. Her processor overwhelmed with the sensory information from all fronts, it retorted to its only defense; to connect this situation to something familiar, something that has happened before.

In her disoriented state, instead of seeing the shower in her home, she saw a room in the old manor. And instead of feeling water slide down her hydrophobic shell, she felt hands. Hands that were distinctly human. Hands of the people whom she still can't remember the faces of, violating her. Touching her in places she shouldn't be touched, abusing parts of her body that are too sensitive for it.

This was stupid. She was a robot, she was a servant, why would she care if she was used? Wasn't that what she was made for? She shouldn't be whining.

Poisonous words from the person seemingly executing this echoed in her audio receptors. Even when it happened, V could bearly make out proper sentences.

V just yelled for them to get away, but her pleas proved vain when nothing changed.

Eventually, she succumbed to it, with only whimpers and muffled sobs with the occasional "stop" escaping her mouth.

N was out today, which only left Uzi and V in their home, but the purple worker couldn't help but feel slightly worried by how long her girlfriend had been in the shower, she was usually quick.

But Uzi brushed it off. Maybe she's doing some self care for herself. V was responsible, they've known each other for a while now. Long enough to build a life with her and N.

That was until she heard V's voice, muffled by the walls of the bathroom and too far away from Uzi to make out any actual words. But why would V be yelling? There's nobody else in the house other than her, right?

Uzi panicked, but took a deep breath. She needed to stop assuming the worst all the time. So she calmly (albiet still quickly) walked up to the bathroom she was in and knocked on the door.

"V? You okay?"

No reply. At least, no reply that was directed at Uzi. It was hard to tell what she was saying, which worried her. Uzi does know V has a... complicated past... but even after getting together, she didn't talk about it more than she needed to. What if she was stuck in some kind of flashback?

No. No jumping to the worst case scenario. She'll just ask her again.

"V? Did something happen? Can I come in?"

No reply again. This was now a cause for concern, so Uzi opened the door, only to see her girlfriend on the floor of the shower sobbing and whimpering.

Immediately she ran up to V. But the disassembly drone sat up and made eye contact with Uzi.

Fear. The thought that V was even capable of the feeling had never even crossed Uzi's mind, but the hollow yellow rings that replaced her eyes were all that stared back her girlfriend.

V looked sad, tired, and scared, and while she has shown more emotion in front of her partners than she would to anyone else, this was different. It was raw, it was unfiltered, and it was heartbreaking. Her wet hair covered parts of her face and water was still pouring over her. She looked helpless.

"V?" Was all Uzi got to say before the disassembly drone tensed up and her endoskeleton started to shake. Pants and suppressed sobs were all that escaped the drone in front of Uzi, and when she tried getting closer, V cowered, pushing herself on the floor into the corner of the shower.

With her knees to her chin, one cone-shaped arm wrapped around her legs and the other in a protective position, hiding most of her face, V looked...vulnerable.

Noticing her girlfriend's reaction, Uzi moved backward. V must've thought she was someone else. Why else would she be this scared at the sight of her own girlfriend? Did Uzi do something?

V seemed to relax slightly, but she still looked like a helpless, terrified kitten in the rain. It hurt Uzi to see someone so important to her look like that. Only a year or two ago, Uzi would be scared of V, stating what she would think would be her final words if she crossed by any disassembly drone. Never in a million years did she ever entertain the idea of dating not one, but TWO of them. And now one of them is terrified of her.

As Uzi prepared to speak again, she heard V mumble something mixed with a sob. Uzi's audio receptors may not be as advanced as her girlfriend's, but she could make out a few words.

"Don't hurt me" were those words. The rest were lost to the sounds of whimpering and water from the shower hitting the floor, but Uzi's heart sank at the thought of what those words implied.

"V... it's me, Uzi"

It was a softer tone and volume, and it seemed to have worked as V relaxed a little bit and lowered her hand. However, she was still shaking and her eyes were still hollow.

Uzi leaned down to get on V's level, in an attempt to make her more comfortable. "it'll be okay" she comforted. Maybe it won't be, she had no way to tell, but it may help calm V down. She grabbed the towel V had hung on the hanger. "Can I get you out of here?"

V, still shaking and her eyes still hollowed, nodded. She didn't say anything, as if her voice were being held under a lock and key.

Uzi got into the shower and turned the water off as V stared at her, with digital tears hanging from the eyes displayed on her screen.

The worker drone reached out a tender hand to her girlfriend's cheek, which she immediately leaned into and closed her eyes.

Now that she was closer to V, the stress lines under them were more obvious, and as she brought back her hand, Uzi draped the towel over V like a blanket.

"Do you want me to dry you off or do you want to do it yourself?" Uzi asked in a loving tone.

V took a bit to respond, but she then replaced her eyes with text that read "I'll do it, but stay here" before adding on a "please".

Uzi nodded in response, and V blinked away the text as Uzi used one hand to interlace her fingers with V's and the other supporting her other arm, lifting it up and allowing V's limp body to stand at its full 5'11" height.

V took the towel that was hastly draped over her and wrapped it around herself after she had dried off the plastic and silicone that shielded her insides from the elements.

Uzi looked back at V once she was done but before Uzi got the chance to marvel at how beautiful her girlfriend looked, V collapsed onto Uzi before clearing her throat and spoke.

"Can you..." She paused, as if she was incapable of asking Uzi to do anything for her.

"Can you brush my hair?"

Her voice was scratchy from the crying, and her voice was still shaking despite thinking all the tears were gone. Maybe it was from embarrassment. The strong and terrifying Serial designation V asking for help? She might as well be dead at that point.

"of course..." Uzi smiled before going onto her tip toes and closing the gap between the two drones in a short, soft, loving kiss.

~~~~~

Uzi walked out to let V change, and after a few minutes she saw her girlfriend in a baggy purple sweater collapse into a hug, burying her head into Uzi's shoulder.

"..'m sorry for scaring you" was all V said, partially muffled by Uzi's shirt.

But Uzi just hugged her back and smiled into V while running her fingers through her girlfriend's still partially wet hair. "Its okay, it's not your fault"

V must've believed her. Or didn't feel like arguing. Because she just hummed in reply before pulling away from Uzi and sitting on the edge of their bed infront of the worker.

As Uzi played with V's hair, she wondered what must've happened. Who did V think she was? Why was she scared? Was she stuck in some kind of memory? What was happening in it?

She didn't want to ask too much. V was already secretive about her past even after getting together. But if it was hurting someone she cares about so much, she should at least ask her if she's okay now.

So she asked.

"What happened in there?" And immedietly felt bad. What if she was forcing V to re-live this memory? Was she overstepping a boundary?

"Uh.." V stopped in her tracks, almost trying to remember what just happened before Uzi cut off her train of thought.

"N-not that you have to tell me! It's just-" Uzi sighed. "I just want to know if you're okay"

A moment of silence passed, but to Uzi it felt as though it was a thousand years, and to V, half a second.

V took a deep breath before adjusting her position so that her knees were to her chest and she rested her face on them. "No... you deserve to know. Just-" another beat passed. "- just... i-it's just hard to talk about... uh.."

It was hard to keep talking, trying to figure out which words to carefully string together to form a cohesive sentence. She shouldn't be nervous, but she hasn't really talked about this to anyone. Her mind just kept flashing back to moments she has tried so hard to forget every time she wants to attempt to tell the most important person in her life what happened.

"V? You okay? You don't have to talk, you know"

Shit. She zoned out.

V collected herself and rehearsed what she'd say in her head. Why was she overthinking? She can trust Uzi.

"I..." Her eyes trailed down, and Uzi moved to the left of V to get a better look at her.

"Th-this was like, a long time ago and-"

She stared at her hands, and watched as she fiddled with them to relieve a bit of her anxiety. Or was it fear? Nervousness? Even she can't pinpoint the feeling. But, she does know she needed to talk about it.

"When I was a- uhm... w-when I worked for the Elliot manor... there were some...bad people" she took a slightly shaky breath. Uzi could probably see that V wasn't okay. Maybe that's why she rested her hand on top of V's after she said that. And despite the topic at hand, and emotions racing through her head, V made eye contact with her girlfriend and smiled. Not the sadistic smile she sported in hunts, or the beaming one she wore when Uzi said that magic three-letter word after asking her out. It was soft. It was okay. She's safe with Uzi.

So she took another shaky breath, and continued. "They hurt me. And... the ways they did that, varied..."

Uzi's digital eyes displayed slanted lines, reminiscent of human eyebrows when someone was sad.

"A-and one of those ways... included parts of me that I still wonder why I have. Maybe it was to feed their sick fantasies" it was hard to talk about, but the lump in her artificial throat was smaller as she found herself getting more comfortable.

V opened her mouth so speak, but choked on a sob that she had been trying to suppress. Damn it. She can't be crying now. She supposed to be scary. What was she even doing right now? She was stupid to think she can be vulnerable. She's supposed to be big and scary.

While V spiraled in her thoughts, hypocritically degrading herself for things she did three seconds ago, she snapped out of it by a sudden weight, and arms wrapping around her.

It was Uzi hugging her.

Suddenly, she couldn't control it anymore, and V let out more sobs as she finally broke down. Uzi held her through all of it, she even moved in front of V to face her. And as V sobbed and cried into the crook of Uzi's neck, she wrapped her own arms around the worker, despretly shaking and clawing onto her to make sure Uzi will never leave her side.

Between V's slightly muffled sobs and sniffles, Uzi lifted her head slightly to plant a kiss on V's cheek and whispered comforting words into her audio receptors.

"I'm here now" "Its okay now" "im sorry", they all helped but sounded the same to V. Until Uzi said a particular phrase.

"You didn't deserve that"

What a joke. She absolutely did. Maybe she hadn't done anything bad when it happened but the things that were done to her was probably something whatever higher being looking down on her did to punish her ahead of time. Maybe they thought it would stop her from doing the horrible things she did later in her life as a disassembly drone. In reality V didn't deserve Uzi. Or even N. She doesn't deserve loving partners who care about her. She doesn't deserve the affection she received from them or any forgiveness that they gave her.

But V couldn't even muster the energy to say that. Uzi would probably tell her it was absurd to think that way. Maybe it was. It was hard for someone programmed to serve people to imagine those people may be bad.

At some point in her thoughts, V's sobs got reduced to just occasional hitches in her breath, and her digital tears were replaced with tired lines under golden eyes. And they were very visible to Uzi, who pulled away from the hug and was now holding V's larger hands that were slightly illuminated by the yellow triangles on them.

"Hey, it's getting late. Do you want to go to bed now?"

V blinked a few times and looked at Uzi, then to her own hands. Hands that were made to kill people like Uzi. But right now, hands that were being held by her. And she watched as Uzi's thumbs brushed along her palms.

"Yea. Maybe" V finally sighed, and leaned onto Uzi, who pushed her own weight towards her and hugged her harder.

An "I love you" escaped the purple drone as she rubbed soothing circles on her girlfriend's back. It almost made V start crying again.

She was fine. Everything's fine now. She'll never be hurt that way again. She's loved now.

She's loved now

V's voice shaky from the newly built up tears, she reciprocated the statement

"I love you, too, Uz"

It was quiet, muffled, half mumbled, but it was enough for Uzi to hear her and squeeze her girlfriend tighter.

They shuffled a bit while cuddling, and ended up in a position where Uzi was spooning V. There's a first time for everything, she guessed. But it wasn't that bad, being cradled by the one she loved the most.

Minus V's purring and occasional sniffle, it was relatively quiet. But, it was comfortable. Uzi subconsciously ran her fingers through V's hair as V listened attentively to the rhythm of Uzi's core and wrapped her tail around Uzi's leg. Getting used to how clingy and physically affectionate V was took a bit of time, especially since before dating, Uzi's only ever seen her murdering people, playing with their corpses like dolls only to animalisticly take a bite of her prey.

But it was nice. Paired with V's purring, Uzi really enjoyed cuddling with her, too.

It was a while before V broke the silence.

"You know... I never thought I'd ever tell anyone that experience, much less to a worker"

Uzi looked down at V in her arms, which caused V's complimentary eyes to look back at her.

"Not that it's a bad thing. I'm really glad I could finally talk to someone about it. I never thought I'd see myself this close to someone like you. You opened my eyes to a diffrent way of looking at things, and I'm forever grateful we met. I'm sorry I was such a dick at first."

Uzi's face softened at the remark before she leaned down to kiss V's hair

"Don't say that. You were scared. And you've changed" Uzi paused to cup V's face in her hands and lean in for another kiss, V holding the back of Uzi's head.

"I'm glad you trust me enough to talk to"

V didn't talk, but her smile and blush spoke a thousand words. Uzi just held V to her chest and continued playing with her hair.

It continued like that for a while, until V's "eyelids" grew heavy, and she eventually succumbed to her exhaustion.

Uzi didn't know how long it's been, and frankly she didn't care. That was until she heard footsteps walking into her room before she saw the unmistakable yellow headband of a disassembly drone.

"Hey Zi d-" N cut himself off as he saw V asleep and walked over to Uzi.

"Did something happen?" He asked Uzi in a hushed tone, careful not to wake the drone laying in his girlfriend's arms.

"...Yea. I don't know if she would let me say what happened, but..." the worker looked at the murder machine curled up in her arms, asleep, and smiled. "...she's fine now" Uzi replied, petting V's hair.

N's face shifted to a sympathetic smile as he sat on the edge of the bed and eyed V.

"I hope she is" was all he said before going behind Uzi and snuggled up with her, hugging her from behind before he too fell asleep.

Which left Uzi alone with her thoughts.

V was right, though. A few years ago Uzi's life was hell. It was hard to even avoid hurting herself. But she's so glad she didn't. Now instead of walking to her home after a shitty day at school to be ignored by her father, she walks home after another day of university to a home with her girlfriend and boyfriend, ready to tell them about her day and hear about theirs. Now she looks forward to life, as long as she has her two favourite people in it.

Eventually, Uzi also fell asleep, being hugged by N and V, and hugging the latter back.

#vuzi #glitch productions #md vuzi #murder drones v #v murder drones #murder drones uzi #uzi doorman #serial designation n #envuzi #nuziv #Envuzi is a much better name we should use it more #hurt/comfort #cuddling & snuggling #originally posted on ao3 #nuzi #just a lil bit #It's mainly vuzi tho

77 notes · View notes

otomiyaa · 11 months

Text

nice.png

(literally how I named the image, couldn't think of something else)

Hi guys :') To my followers and tumblr friends, I'm really sorry if my sudden disappearance scared or upset you. It wasn't quite... planned. And today was a busy day and I needed some time to consider what I wanted to do.

Short version of the story:

My tumblr account got terminated for copyright infringement. A certain Mr. Green got me in unlucky trouble (ref 1, 2).

I won't get it back, or try to get it back. It's gone.

Needed a moment to consider 2 options: ask Mia to extend my dramatic farewell letter and stay gone, or make a new blog.

Not planning to post new writing here. I won't be using words like 'never' or 'forever' because I'm a known clown with things like this, but the intention is to no longer post fics. I will finish Tickletober on AO3 and then take a break from writing. So yes, I cancel the swiftscribbles event too, sorry!

When I opened my laptop, I could see my old blog in its final hour lmao (I found out about the loss on my phone). So that's what the snap is from on a fitting grave. It was fun while it lasted!

Long version of the story:

Losing my blog(s): My Tumblr account with main blog + sideblogs got terminated overnight, it was quite the surprise! I've either been reported or tracked by bots. The posts are a bunch of numbered URLs I can't open, but the message is clear: for including anime content, genshin impact or media from other sources (whether it's videos, screenshots, official art, gifs or even fanwork) you technically can get a strike. Upon googling the claimer I quickly found this first, and knew it was a lost cause. Although it feels shitty and unlucky, I am in no place to appeal. It's like when I used to make AMVs in the past, you never knew whether a song or even anime footage was going to give your YT account a copyright strike or even a ban, it was a gamble. I have lost YT accounts before, and now I lost the Tumblr one. With 7+ years of tickle trash content and a bunch of sideblogs. But oh well, moving on!

Starting a new blog: It was a serious consideration whether this was my ultimate chance to do what I've always said I wanted to do eventually - quit my blog. My first thought was to ask Mia to share my explanation and literal goodbye with you guys, and stick to my chaos of a Twitter account to indulge in fandom stuff. But then I thought of how happy Tumblr made me, even without the fic writing, but just.. reblogging things, getting random asks, shouting about life and of course, about tickles. I decided to make a new blog after all, but also decided the following:

The 7K+ milestone swiftscribbles event is cancelled, for which I apologize! The follower milestone, together with the motivation to write the fics, and even the asks with the requests I got, all died with my former blog.

I will see how long I can survive without posting a new fic or drabble. A loose headcanon or two might fly around sometime. And if necessary, a link to a new fic on AO3.

Tickletober? Hell yes I'll finish it, I would cringe in bed for 49 days at least if I would stop. I just won't post the fics here, but on AO3.

Reposting/reblogging my old works? Undecided at the moment but I'm tired and lazy. I don't feel too upset since most of my fics are still on AO3 at least and not completely gone.

Anyways, I'll see what happens and how long I can enjoy this nerfed version of blogging.

Surprisingly I'm not upset about losing my other blog, there were a lot of memories but it was also very cringe. I'm gonna be just as cringe here, but at least I feel cleansed.

For those who choose to follow me again, thank you, but please know that there won't be much original content coming from me, for now!:)

#tickle community #otomiya-tickles #announcement

199 notes · View notes

faeriekit · 9 months

Note

Do you have any plans to post your "Danny the mortician adopts a bunch of Talons" bits over to AO3? I would definitely love to be able to track them over there, no editing needed. I'm just afraid I'm missing parts given how Tumblr's thread system works

Howdy!

I do plan to...eventually? Maybe over the weekend? The reason it was primarily tumblr posts is that I do all my ao3 posting and editing and coding from a laptop, and my laptop had blown up. I have one now but that's like a since-this-past-Friday acquisition you know? I'm mostly keeping it casual for now. Chill. Low-pressure. Eventually, though, yes; my plan is to eventually get it up and archived on ao3.

But also I just lost like four chapters worth of work on four different fics when my drive went kerplooie so I'm currently trying to scrape all my stuff I have left together so it may take ＼(ﾟｰﾟ＼) a WHhileヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

#faer nonsense #I'm very pro danny adopts a whole bunch of talons

119 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 5 months

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Eleven

Summary:

You and Astarion have a little check-in about your preferences.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.1k Tags/Warnings: mentions of many, many different kinks, slightly less than ideal kink negotiation, choking, blood drinking, fingering, rough sex, honestly all the standard stuff at this point

I swear I'm not doing this intentionally, but I'm finally posting chapter 11 when the draft for chapter 12 is up on my Kofi. Eventually I'll get my shit back on schedule.

As always, the professor screenshot is from @zipzoomzaria.

Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist

The sky outside your living room window is streaked with orange and purple from the nearly set sun. Lying on your couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table, you open an incognito tab on your phone. No sense in ruining your algorithm. You search ‘BDSM checklist’ and click on the first result, an extensive PDF that looks relatively promising. You’re trying to not be judgmental, but as you scroll through the list you’re plagued with thoughts ranging from “Wait, that’s a kink? Isn’t that just standard?” to “People are actually into that?” to “Oh. Oh.”

Your eyes scan down the list. There are just so many options that you hadn’t considered.

Bondage – light: yes. Bondage – heavy: maybe? Bondage – all day/multi day: definitely not. Collars – worn in private: absolutely. Collars – worn in public: …maybe?

You picture yourself walking around with Astarion in public with a collar on. Maybe not something so explicit as a dog collar, but like a little choker? Just for you and him? The thought sends a small thrill up your spine. You keep scrolling.

Fetishes: boot worship, cock worship, corsets… sure. Cross dressing? The image of Astarion wearing lacy lingerie and giving you a come hither stare over his glasses brings a light flush to your cheeks.

You open up your text messages and stare at your sparse conversation with him. The picture of His Majesty chewing on The 48 Laws of Power is still prominent, making you smile. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you have no idea what to say. Come over so we can compare kinks? I want to tell you in explicit detail all of the depraved things I want you to do to me? You drop your head back on the couch and stare at your ceiling for a few minutes while you try to sort through your thoughts. Better to be simple and direct, right? After a heavy sigh, you type:

-Do you have plans tonight? Do you want to come over?

You pause before hitting send, suddenly unsure. Why is this the thing giving you anxiety? It’s still hard to be so forthright with him while every instinct screams at you to play it cool. With another huff you clench your jaw and hit send.

You put your phone face down on the couch next to you so you’re not tempted to stare at it. You start to feel antsy without anything for your hands to do and your eyes trace the dents in your worn down popsocket. The seconds stretch on for what feels like hours, and you’re convinced that you’ve said the wrong thing. That he’s changed his mind and decided that you’re not worth the effort after all.

Finally you hear the soft hum of your phone buzz, and you frantically flip it over to read his answer.

-I’d love to. Shall I bring anything? A leash, perhaps?

You giggle and squeal and press your thighs together all at once. You settle back on the couch and tuck your feet beneath you, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. An apt comparison, honestly.

-Not yet, but maybe one of those fancy expensive wines.

Your heart thrums as your eyes dart around your apartment, making sure it isn’t too messy. You generally keep it fairly tidy, although compared to Astarion’s place yours is downright spotless. The briefest image flashes through your mind of the two of you living together before you internally scold yourself. Absolutely not, it’s way too soon for those thoughts.

Your phone buzzes again, and you look over at it, surprised.

-You’re still my favorite vintage, darling. 🤍🩸

If someone had been around to hear the noise you just made, you would’ve vehemently denied it.

***

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally hear the knock on the door. You quickly check your hair in the mirror before opening it, and there he is, looking as dashing as ever in a lavender button down and forest green trousers. His collar is undone just enough to get a peek of the delicate silver chains resting on his collarbone, and his sleeves are rolled up, showing off his sinewy forearms. You take the bottle from his hand, your fingers lingering on his wrist momentarily, and gesture for him to come inside. You put the wine down on the counter and turn back to him as he slips his hands around your waist, his cool hands resting on the skin of your lower back below your crop top. You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, gently pressing your lips to his.

“Hi,” you murmur with a shy smile.

“Hi,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. You pull away reluctantly and open the cabinets to take out glasses for wine. Astarion glances down at your socked feet and then over to your shoe rack by the door.

“Oh, erm… would you like me to remove my shoes?” he asks, uncertainty apparent in his voice.

“Oh!” You didn’t consider that he probably hasn’t spent much time in other people’s spaces, and you don’t want to push him outside his comfort zone. “Well, uh… you don’t have to, I guess.” He studies your expression and frowns.

“I feel as though you’d like me to,” he says carefully, and then before you can respond, he walks over to the shoe rack and slips off his shoes, placing them neatly on top of the rack.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and he crosses back to you and kisses your temple. You linger in his scent for a moment longer before turning toward your tablet resting on your kitchen island. You unlock the screen and pull up the checklist you had been perusing earlier, then slide it over to him to look at.

“So in the spirit of, you know, being on the same page about things,” you tell him as you pull out your kitschy pirate-shaped corkscrew, “I wanted to look at a list of like, things to try, and I dunno, talk about it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous about this. You certainly don’t have much experience with being so explicit about your desires, preferring instead to rely on nonverbal communication with partners. Which, in retrospect, might explain more than a few disappointing experiences.

Astarion brushes your hair back from your neck and lightly runs his nose along your ear, eliciting a shiver. “You wouldn’t just rather have a repeat of the evening at the bowling alley?” You lean your head back into him for a moment, savoring his touch, before steeling yourself and pulling away.

“No, we should actually talk about it,” you sigh heavily, barely able to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“Having a conversation, how novel,” he says with that high-pitched giggle you find so very charming. You pour generous servings of wine and take a long sip before settling yourself onto a barstool.

“So they split it into different categories, and then there are a lot of subcategories,” you explain, trying to be chill about it and only mostly succeeding.

“People can get very specific about their wants, it’s true,” he agrees sagely, and you’re suddenly reminded of his centuries of experience over you. You try not to let that make you feel even more insecure than you already do.

“Right. So um… blindfolds, light bondage, chains.” You make little check marks next to the ones you’re interested in with your tablet pen.

“Collars, I believe you articulated something along those lines,” he smiles at you salaciously, and you take a deep sip of your wine to hide your embarrassment. He places his hand on your lower back reassuringly, and you muster the resolve to continue scanning down the list.

“Various cuffs sound good to me, although I’m not sure if I know what ‘handcuff style’ means,” you say, putting the pen to your lips in thought.

“May I?” he asks, holding out his hands to indicate that he’s asking for permission to demonstrate it on you. You nod and slip off the barstool, and in an instant he has you spun around and your wrists pinned together behind your back. He’s gentle enough, but uses just the right amount of force to make you gasp. “Do you like that?” His voice is low in your ear and your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.

“I, uh… think you can surmise the answer to that,” you tease a little breathlessly, and the puff of air from his chuckle tickles your neck.

“Perhaps, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I want to hear you say it.” He punctuates the sentence by tightening the grip on your hands ever so slightly.

“Then yes, I do.” The words come out a little strained but he deems your answer satisfactory. He releases your wrists and you turn back to him to see him with an incredibly smug grin. You playfully shove his face and return to the list, and he leans over your shoulder to read along with you.

“Thoughts on gags?” he asks, and you think it over for a moment.

“I think probably not, although maybe tape, just none of these other ones. I don’t want to get all drool-y.” You throw him a mischievous glance over your shoulder. “Although on you, I might reconsider.” You stick your knuckle in his mouth and he closes his lips around your finger, sucking on it while keeping his eyes trained on you. He pulls your finger out with a lewd pop and pulls your wrist into his lips, grazing his fangs along your pulse point.

“You’d be hurting yourself more than helping, darling,” he murmurs into your skin, and you bite your lip in an attempt to control your breathing. He uses your momentary distraction to snatch the pen out of your hand. “And I’ll go ahead and put a tick next to ‘leashes’ right here.”

“I thought you wanted to hear me say it,” you needle him back, pressing up against him unnecessarily to retrieve the pen.

“Oh I most certainly would,” he purrs, and you feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You continue scanning down the list, adding checkmarks to some of the things you’ve already done. You reach ‘blood play’ and add a check. Astarion leans down and gives your neck a quick little nip, not enough to break the skin, but enough to make you yelp.

“Fetishes,” you read, tapping the pen to your lips. “You know, I’m definitely into some of these things, corsets, high heels – I might even still have some of the costume pieces from when I was in Venus in Fur that they let me keep.”

Astarion’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Venus in Furs, as in, the Sacher-Masoch book?”

“Based on it, yeah. Venus in Fur, singular, by David Ives.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing some production photos from that,” he teases, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt.

“Well maybe I should just model the costume for you in person,” you murmur, turning into his chest and tilting your chin upward. He follows your lead, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. Your head grows foggy with lust and you finally push him away. “Focus,” you scold yourself as much as him.

“I am extremely focused right now,” he hums, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Hmm, prove it,” you retort, and tap the pen on your tablet screen. “What are your thoughts, um. On crossdressing.” You’re a little embarrassed to ask, but you continue to barrel through your shame. Jaheira would be proud.

“Would you like that?” His voice remains just as lust-filled and you flush a deep red. “Seeing me in a cute little skirt and thigh high stockings?”

The image in your mind is vivid: Astarion straddling your lap, a miniskirt flaring out from his hips and his cock pressing against you through thin satin panties. You nearly start hyperventilating.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe heavily.

“Duly noted,” he says with a giggle. You blink to focus your eyes back to reality and return to the list.

“Humiliation?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Yeah, me neither. Impact and rough play. Uh…” you scan through the list, putting down a few checks – face slapping, riding crops, spanking. “Oh. Um. Non-monogamy.” You turn to him to gauge his expression. He returns your gaze equally carefully.

“Is that something that interests you?” he asks, his voice neutral.

“Probably not dating… um… but I could consider a threesome, like, with the right person. Unless you’re not into that,” you add quickly, and his lips curl into a smile.

“We can cross that bridge if we come to it,” he replies and plants a kiss in your hair.

“Okay, I like that,” you hum appreciatively. You move onto the next category. “Role play. None of these are of particular interest to me, probably… ugh, schoolroom scenes, I can’t.” You shudder and he lets out a cackle.

“Not interested in a professor/student roleplay?” he asks with a roguish smile. “No looking for extra credit to get your grade up?”

You have another visceral reaction. “Too close to home, no thank you. Although…”

“Reconsidering?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“No! I was just looking… Well, two jump out at me. Uh…” you struggle against your internalized shame and let out a growl of frustration. He takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him. His cool touch is a soothing balm against the fiery heat in your cheeks.

“Darling, you can tell me. Trust me, I’m sure it isn’t anything I haven’t already heard.” His voice is gentle, but there’s almost a sadness behind it that you can’t place. You take a deep breath and hold onto his hand, keeping it pressed against your cheek.

“Okay. The first one is fear play. Like… I like when you get a little animalistic. Almost a predator/prey kind of thing.” You avoid his gaze despite his insistence, but you power through. “The other one is switching roles. I may have… fantasized… about you being a bit of a needy sub.” You almost swallow your last few words before looking up to his gaze again. His red eyes are completely inscrutable.

“Well, I’m more than happy to hunt you down, love,” he leers at you and your breath catches. Then his expression falters, shifting into something more contemplative. “As for the second…” Your whole body tenses in anticipation of the ‘but.’ “I’d have to think about it. I don’t relish the idea of giving up that much control.”

“Ohmygodsnoit’stotallyfinewedon’thavetotalkaboutiteveragain.” The words pour out of your mouth in a barely coherent jumble. He laughs and pulls your face into his, giving you a tender kiss.

“I said I’d think about it, darling, not that it’s an outright no.” He searches your eyes for any indication of understanding, and you nod. He looks back at the next category on the list. “Sensation play, non-impact,” he reads, and he laughs when his eyes fall on ‘biting/being bitten.’

“Yeah, I guess that one’s pretty obvious,” you say sheepishly, putting a check next to it. He looms over your shoulder and you feel the electricity crackling between the two of you.

“Now, I’d like to ask for a point of clarification,” he considers while pointing at ‘breath control (choking)’ and ‘breath control (mild restriction.)’

“Uh-huh?” you ask, barely trusting yourself to articulate words. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings his hand to your throat hesitantly, a silent question. You give him a shallow but prolonged nod, your breath quickening with excitement. He closes his hand slowly, testing the pressure. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan.

“Mild?” he asks, his voice husky. Your fingers curl and flex on the counter, dropping the tablet pen.

“Yeah,” you squeak out, your blood pounding in your ears. His eyes glint with a devilish fire and a smile slowly creeps onto his lips.

“Good,” he hums, low and dangerous. He studies your face for a moment longer, turning your chin left and right, almost like he’s examining you. Your body trembles, waiting for his next move. He suddenly pulls you up onto your toes, your face close to his, his nails digging into your flesh. You whine, high and loud and undeniably aroused.

He continues with his interrogation. “And how is this? Yes or no, pet.” Under any other circumstances, his voice might be considered gentle.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your voice cracking.

“Yes, what?” he spits through gritted teeth, tightening his hand and tearing another wanton moan from your lips.

“Y-yes daddy,” the word tumbles out of you before you can even think to stop it.

Evidently it was the correct answer because his features split with a feral grin as he snarls, “That’s my good girl,” before crushing your lips into his. You grasp weakly at his hips as he devours you, and you’re more than happy to let him. He slides his hands under your ass and plunks you down on the island. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it over your head, pulling your hips in closer to his waist as he continues to ravage your lips.

He snakes his hand into your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to his destruction. “Little love, tell me what you desire,” he growls into your ear, and you clutch your arms around his shoulders.

“You,” you manage to gasp out, “I- ah- I want you. To have your way with me. Destroy me, consume me, take your fill. I want you, Astarion.” You tense up, waiting for his bite, but instead he leaves a trail of sloppy kisses and nips down your chest. He closes his lips around your nipple under your bra, sucking on it through the lace. You run your fingers through his curls and drop your head back with a moan.

Before you can adjust to the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, his lips continue their journey down your stomach and to the waistband of your skirt. He hikes it up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties and pulls them down past your knees, discarding them onto the kitchen floor. He hovers his mouth over your slick cunt and shifts his gaze up to you. You can feel his cool breath and you whimper and squirm, aching for any part of him.

“Your hand, love,” he purrs as he reaches out for your wrist, pulling your fingers to your swollen clit. You groan as you make contact, instinctively rubbing little circles to give yourself the relief you crave. He slides his nimble fingers into your cunt and you jerk your hips into him, clenching around him and breathing heavily. He slowly pumps his fingers as you massage your clit, never taking his eyes off you. It’s almost too intense and you want to look away, but you’re transfixed. His lips drift to your inner thigh, his fangs ghosting over your skin.

“Please,” you mewl, and the breath from his laugh tickles your thigh. He straightens up and puts his lips to your ear, his fingers never straying from their tortuous pace.

“You’re going to listen closely to what I’m about to say and you will follow my instructions, understood?” You whimper out a noise of assent, trying to match your fingers to his. “I’m going to bite you, and you’re going to continue touching yourself while I drink. And you’re not going to be stingy with those needy little moans of yours, my sweet, I want to hear and taste you come.”

“Yes sir,” you squeal, and your breath quickly turns into a groan when he sinks his teeth into you. Your fingers slow at the overwhelm of sensation, but when his own fingers speed up as he takes in long greedy pulls of your blood, your need becomes almost unbearable. You clutch at the back of his head with one hand as the other services your clit, and you pant in his ear as he drinks. “Fuck, Astarion, gods, yes,” you gasp the explitives into his hair. Your hips buck into your hand as you bring yourself closer, aided by his fingers dragging against your walls and his tongue lapping at your neck. You quickly grow dizzy with lust and blood loss, your vision clouding you ramp up to the edge. Your fingers tangle into his curls as your whimpers and whines grow high and needy. When you feel the vibration of his own groan against your skin, your orgasm crashes down on you, your cunt and neck both throbbing with pleasure. He rides it out with you, lazily licking your wounds closed.

He pulls away from you and the sight of his lips red with your blood sends another surge through you, and you grab his face and kiss him roughly. He wraps his arms around your waist, the fingers on his left hand still sticky with your cum. You claw at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his cool, smooth chest. Once you’ve rid him of the offending clothing, you break the kiss to catch your breath, sliding your hands over his shoulders and down his arms. He growls with a low appreciation.

“My darling, you taste delectable,” he hums and swipes his thumb across your lips, collecting a drop of your blood and sucking it off lasciviously. You pant and look at him through blurry eyes, your legs still shaking. He pulls you off the counter and your knees buckle as you land, barely able to hold up your weight. “On your knees, my treasure.”

You happily drop to the floor, never taking your eyes off his. He towers over you with a sinister smile and you slide your hands around the back of his thighs, just trying to brace yourself. Your mouth hangs open, hungry for him but waiting for instructions. He cards his hand through your hair, letting it run around your ear and down under your chin.

“So eager for me,” he says in a low voice, and he slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it fervently, keeping your carnal gaze on him, aching to please. His eyes flutter closed briefly and he lets out a long breath. You keen into his thumb, a nonverbal plea for his cock. He yanks his digit back from your mouth and closes his hand around your throat once more, bending over for a heated kiss. When he finally releases you, you’re panting again, the whimpers practically uncontrollable.

He begins to unbuckle his pants and you pull up on your knees, begging like a needy pup. “Little love, is this what you want? My cock shoved down your throat?” He pulls out his erection, engorged and flushed pink with your blood, as you nod with a whine. “Good. Open,” he commands and you dutifully obey, taking him as far into your mouth as you can. You swallow down your gag reflex, keeping your eyes trained on him as his head falls back with a moan. You bob your head on his cock, your nails digging into the back of his thighs. He tangles his hand into your hair and you hold still as he thrusts into your mouth.

“Fuck, Tav,” he hisses and you moan around his cock, spurred on by that jolt of electricity you only get from hearing him say your name. He yanks your hair to pull you off his cock, and he looks at you with wild eyes for a moment before pushing you down onto your back. The kitchen tile is hard and cool against your skin, and you’re all too aware of every knot and point of tension along your back. But your legs fall open for him anyway as he pulls his pants down to his knees and positions himself at your entrance. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, gathering your wetness and spreading it down onto the shaft with his hand.

“Please,” you croak, your hips canting upwards towards him. He lets out a shuddering breath that’s almost a laugh.

“Use your words, love.” His voice is thick with lust, which just sets you off more.

“Please,” you beg with even more desperation, “please fuck me and choke me, Astarion. Please.” You’re almost crying with need at this point, and the noise you make when he finally buries himself into you up to the hilt is utterly obscene. He grabs your throat and digs his fingers into the side of your larynx, just barely restricting your air supply. He pounds into you with long, powerful strokes, and you claw at the kitchen floor to keep yourself from sliding backwards. You let out a strained cry with each thrust, pleasure and sensation overwhelming your body.

“Look at me,” he snarls with a slight squeeze on your throat, and you snap your gaze to him. He looks borderline bestial, his eyes wild with bloodlust, his hair falling over his glasses. His expression alone would have been enough to get another orgasm out of you, but the look paired with the feeling of his controlling and possessive hand around your throat sends you careening off the edge with a cry. A few more broken thrusts of his hips and he’s following, his cock throbbing as he spills into you. He falls forward onto your stomach limply, breathing heavily as you push the curls back off his sweaty forehead.

You reach across your alleyway kitchen and grab a dish towel hanging off your oven door. Astarion slides out of you and you gently wipe your combined spend off his cock. When you look up you catch him staring at you adoringly.

“What?” you shy away as he pulls his pants back up, and he chuckles.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that, is all.” He takes the towel from your hand and returns the favor, wiping down your inner thigh before crawling toward you and planting a featherlight kiss on your lips. A thousand different thoughts run through your head before you resolutely decide to continue the conversation from earlier. You strain your neck up at the kitchen island above you and frown.

“My tablet is so far away,” you pout, reaching upward pathetically. He rolls his eyes and stands to retrieve your tablet and your wine glass, handing them to you as you lean your back against the island cabinets. “My hero,” you croon as he sits down beside you, taking his own glass with him. He takes a long sip while watching you out of the corner of the eye and you pull the list back up.

“Now where were we?” You scoot over towards him and loop your arm through his, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“I believe we got side tracked right around ‘breath control,’” he says as he takes the pen off the side of the tablet and puts checks next to the relevant entries. You shove him with your body and continue your journey down the list. You consider a few more – temperature play, sensory deprivation, teasing…

“Ooh, this one is specific to elves!” you squeal with delight when your eyes land on ‘ear play - elves.’ You quickly nip at his earlobe and he makes a shuddering moan, a somewhat disproportionate response for how relatively tame your action is.

“Ah- yes, I thought you had figured that one out,” he quavers with a laugh, and you suddenly redden.

“Oh. Ohh.” It suddenly dawns on you that the differences between elf and human anatomy are more than just visual. “Is that something you like? That you’re okay with?”

He laughs. “Yes, very much so, just be cautious with it if you don’t want things to come to a sudden, messy end.”

You nod and then add mischievously, “Good to know.” You turn your eyes back to the list. “What the fuck are vampire gloves?” You google the phrase while Astarion scoffs.

“There’s nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?” he spits, venom apparent in his voice. You look up from your phone, which is displaying pictures of leather gloves with spiked palms.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a little nervous. His vampiric nature has become an integral part of your relationship, but it’s never come up so explicitly.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales heavily. “I’ve just had more than my fair share of lovers who were more interested in my fangs than in me.”

You freeze beside him as he continues to scroll through the list with his finger. You’d like him regardless of whether he’s a vampire or not – in fact, you didn’t even know when you first discovered your attraction to him. But you certainly don’t feel neutral about it, and now you’re worried that you’ve fetishized him.

“Love?” He turns to you, since he must have heard your heart stop. You chew on your lip uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry if I, like, made it weird,” you mutter, your cheeks red hot.

“What? Darling, no,” he hushes you reassuringly. “It’s different when it’s you.”

You wrinkle your nose with incredulity. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like it is.”

“My sweet, you have a stunning pair of tits,” he begins, and the non sequitur makes you bark out a laugh. “What I’m saying is that it’s something that I like about you, but it’s not the only thing I like about you. And I’m sure you’ve met your fair share of people who only saw you as a walking rack.” You smile, but you’re still not fully convinced. Your eyes linger on the right side of his neck, hidden from view but you can see the bite mark with perfect clarity in your mind’s eye. He brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Darling, I haven’t exactly been subtle about how I feel about your blood,” he says in a smoky voice, and a shiver runs up your spine, “even moreso when you’re aroused. I wouldn’t change that, not for all the moonstones in Evereska.”

You pout for a moment longer while he gazes at you earnestly. “And you promise to tell me if I get weird about it?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your hairline. “Yes, I promise to tell you if you get weird about it.” Your words sound odd in his posh accent, but it gets a smile out of you nonetheless. “Now, I believe the next category is ‘Service and Restricted-slash-Controlled Behavior.’ Well, that’s certainly a mouthful.”

“Funny, you were a mouthful not that long ago,” you say with a licentious grin.

“Hmm, points for clever wordplay, but reduced marks for low hanging fruit. B+.” He glances at you over his glasses and you gawk at him.

“Excuse me, did you just grade my dirty joke?”

“I hold myself to a higher standard, and I expect the same of you,” he says haughtily and you roll your eyes.

“I think it was at least an A-,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Of course you would, professor,” he smirks at you.

“Are you calling me an easy grader?” you gasp, your affront over the top and theatrical.

“No, just easy,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss, to which you respond by biting his lip. You snatch the pen out his hand and look back at the list. One in particular jumps out at you.

“Oh, the dress that you got me, you know, the night you did the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me?” you say, and you can feel him tense up beside you.

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am for that? And also how wonderful and talented and intelligent you are?” His words carry an air of jest but the concern in his eyes is real.

“And funny?” You widen your smile in an attempt to set him at ease.

“Well, let’s not go that far.” He visibly relaxes when it’s clear you’re just teasing.

“Anyway,” you glare at him playfully, “I was going to say that I liked that. I like when you pick out clothes for me.”

“Then I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a raised eyebrow. Then his voice drops as he breathes, “You truly were a vision in that dress. I’ll have another one made, if it’s to your liking.” You close your eyes contentedly as he nuzzles your ear, and all you can do is nod. You finally clear your throat to shift your attention back to the list.

“Oh, how about chores?” you muse, tossing him a snarky grin. “Do you think you’d want to don a cute little maid’s outfit and clean my apartment?”

“You could sell me on the maid’s outfit, but darling, you’ve seen my home, you know that I’m not one for cleaning.”

Your mind supplies the very unhelpful image of Astarion wearing a French maid outfit and your brain short circuits. Astarion catches you glitching and laughs.

“Someone is very enthusiastic about seeing me in a dress,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Shut up, you’re just really cute,” you mumble, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“Serving other Doms, supervised only,” he reads. “Well, as long as I get to watch.” His voice drops salaciously and you stifle a giggle.

“Like the idea of watching me beg for some big strong Dom?” you volley back, trying to keep your cool.

“Darling, I just like watching you beg.” His voice rumbles low in his chest and you shiver. You move onto the next category, sexual activity and penetration, and wordlessly check entries that, for you at least, just feel pretty standard. Astarion takes the pen from you and puts a check next to ‘strap-on-dildos.’ You glance at him with raised eyebrows and he just smirks in response.

Despite the amount of semi-public sex the two of you have had, you don’t give the next category, ‘Voyeurism and Exhibitionism,’ much attention. The final category, ‘Magic in the Bedroom,’ gives you pause.

Astarion scrolls through the list with his finger, musing, “Since neither of us are magic users, I imagine we’d simply go shopping for scrolls together.”

“Hey Astarion,” you say, and he turns his head to you.

“Hmm?”

“The charm person potion. That I found in your trash.” You keep your voice even, and he frowns.

“Ah. Yes. I, erm… I’m still very sorry for that.” His voice is uncharacteristically stilted.

“Why did you do it?” you ask quietly. You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but you still want to hear him say it. He exhales a deep sigh and waits several moments before finally answering.

“I’ve had more than a few close calls with, ah, potential lovers, shall we say.” He stares off into the middle distance and your eyes trace his profile. “I didn’t think you were secretly a Gur, but also, I’d rather not take my chances.”

“And the thing you said about wanting to seem more charismatic?” You put your hand on his knee in an attempt to soothe both him and yourself.

“A lie. Well,” he corrects himself, frowning, “a half-truth. If I could guarantee that you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart, then you finding my otherwise grating personality slightly more charming was merely a bonus.”

You study his face for a moment longer and then take your hand and turn his chin so he’s facing you. “Hey. Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“I was selfish,” he growls, the self-hatred pouring out of him in waves. “I was so focused on my own safety that how you might feel about it didn’t even occur to me.” He clenches his jaw and you put your tablet on the floor and sidle yourself between his legs. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your bare skin flush against his.

“I wish you hadn’t,” you murmur into his ear. “But I understand why you did. I’m certainly no stranger to feeling unsafe on a date. There are other ways to guarantee your safety, but I think you know that now.”

He lets out a shuddering breath followed by a quiet laugh. “I don’t relish you seeing me like this.”

“Too bad, get treasured, idiot,” you giggle and he pulls out of the hug to take your face in his hands and give you a sensual kiss. You melt into his arms, breathing in his scent deeply. “Bed?” you ask, and he nods silently. You stand and help pull him to his feet, leading him into your bedroom.

#office hours #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 modern au #university au #professor astarion

139 notes · View notes

carelisswriting · 2 years

Text

I wrote something based off a prompt by @epkot94 https://at.tumblr.com/epkot94/dp-x-dc-idea-time-so-eventually-danny-tells-jazz/8wbwdhtc71pm

I hope y’all like this, this is the first bit of my writing I’m posting on Tumblr! I also crossposted this on Ao3, which is https://archiveofourown.org/works/45308998

Btw, I adore @proshipper-on-ship and @kine-iende thinking of Dan calling Danny ‘Mom’, so that’s in here too!

EDIT: @lenacraft drew some amazing fan art of the Phantom royal family here! https://at.tumblr.com/lenacraft/im-still-trying-to-figure-out-how-i-wanna/u0n7lg2g8eo9

---

Dan liked being one of the ‘good guys’, don’t get him wrong. He enjoyed saving people, and being seen as a superhero. What he didn’t like was being on a team.

Oh he could work with them just fine, but Ancients did they get on his nerves. Superman constantly checking in on him, Batman trying to figure out his identity (he didn’t have one in this universe anyway, take that asshole), Flash trying to befriend him. All in all, Dan was not a fan of his coworkers. (Ellie insisted that he secretly liked them, but she was wrong and also being very annoying about it.)

They were being particularly annoying today. Flash hadn’t stopped talking for the last 20 minutes. They were all in the main meeting room, for some sort of meeting. Honestly, Dan hadn’t been paying attention, so he had no clue why they were all here. Batman was droning on at the front of the room, something about a cult? Dan had no clue, and really didn’t care enough to listen.

He was idly tossing his thermos (which he still hadn’t told the Justice League the purpose of) back and forth when John Constantine burst into the room.

“We’ve got a problem.” He said, slightly out of breath.

Everyone had stopped talking when he burst in, turning to stare at the man. Batman sighed, before asking “What is it?”

Constantine came up to the table they were all sat around, setting down an ancient looking book across the table from Dan. He noticed that the title was in something similar to Ghostspeak. Interesting. He wasn’t gonna tell any of his coworkers about it, though. They all thought he was an alien, which technically he was, and it would be suspicious for him to know some random magical language, even vaguely.

“Someone is summoning powerful entities from a dimension parallel to ours, using this book.” Constantine said, gesturing to the book “I brought my copy, but I don’t know how to stop these beings.”

“Why?” Batman grunted out the question, already flipping through the old book.

Constantine sighed aggressively, pulling out a cigarette. He lit it, before answering sarcastically “I don’t know, maybe because they’re significantly more powerful than most beings from this dimension? Maybe because they have an insane set of abilities?”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement, turning back to the book.

A few moments passed, before everyone started talking, shouting questions over each other. Dan sighed. This was going to be a long day.

\(oo)/

A few hours passed, everyone still trying to figure out what the hell to do. Well, almost everyone. Dan had long since given up on planning, playing a game on his phone under the table. It wasn’t like anything could actually be a threat to him, and if it was? He’d just call Danny. He’d prefer if his coworkers figured something out, however, so he hadn’t bothered telling them about the fact that he could probably deal with whatever this was in a snap. If they still hadn’t figured anything out in the next hour, he’d deal with it.

Wonder Woman looked up from the book Constantine had summoned for her to read through, hoping it had answers.

“Where are these entities from? You didn’t say what dimension it was.” She asked.

Dan realized that no one had thought to ask that anytime in the last few hours. Seriously? He knew that most of his coworkers were stupid when it came to magic and stuff like it, but seriously? He slipped his phone back into his pocket, wanting to see where this was going.

Constantine glanced up from where he was studying a leatherbound tome. Dan couldn’t see what it was about from here, but he bet it was unhelpful, considering how much Constantine had been glaring at it over the last few minutes.

“The Infinite Realms. It’s an extremely dangerous dimension, home to the dead.” Constantine answered, his tone grim.

Dan couldn’t help it. He chuckled. His coworkers looked at him like he was insane, which only caused him to laugh harder. He bent over the table, laughing.

“Something funny, Phantom?” Batman asked, glaring at him.

(Dan had stolen Danny’s superhero name, it was his first anyway. And besides, everyone found it hilarious, including Danny.)

Dan theatrically wiped a tear from his eye before replying “Yeah, it’s so damn funny that he said that with a straight face. I mean, c’mon, ‘extremely dangerous’? Maybe if you’re an idiot.”

Superman raised an eyebrow at Dan, before exchanging a look with Batman.

“Have you been to these ‘Infinite Realms’?” Superman asked, voice calm.

Dan snorted “Yeah, of course. Ancients, if the problem’s just some guy summoning ghosts, I’m just gonna call my mom.” Dan could deal with it himself, but where was the fun in that?

He pulled out his phone again, dialing Danny’s number. The ‘mom’ thing had started as a joke, but honestly? It fit Danny so well, and Ellie already called him that, so why shouldn’t Dan?

“Why are you-“ Flash asked, before being cut off by Batman.

Batman glared at Dan “What are you doing.” He asked flatly.

Dan laughed, waiting for Danny to pick up.

“Calling my mom, duh.”

Batman gave an aggravated sigh, and went to speak.

Danny picked up, and Dan immediately started talking, cutting off whatever Batman was about to say.

“Hey, so, apparently some asshole is summoning ghosts and causing problems over here. Thought I’d have you deal with it.” Dan said, explaining quickly. The Justice League stared at him, shocked and very confused. Dan hadn’t told them anything about his family, so their reactions were pretty justified.

Danny sighed “Not even gonna say hello?”

Dan sarcastically cut him off “Hello!”

Danny sighed again, but Dan could tell he was amused. They shared a sense of humor, Ellie had the same one too. Perks of being a clone/evil future self and their original/past self (Their relationships were all kinds of funky, but it worked for them.)

“You said someone is summoning ghosts? I’ll be there in a sec.” Danny said, before hanging up.

Dan put his phone away, finally glancing at his coworkers. They all looked extremely confused, except Batman who was fuming, and Constantine who looked wary.

“Who was that?” Batman growled.

Dan looked at him, the picture of innocent confusion.

“I already told you, my mom. He’ll be here in a moment.”

Dan could see Flash mouthing ‘he?’ to himself a few seats away. Dan relished in the sense of confusion he was causing. It was extremely funny watching his coworkers flounder in the face of Dan’s sheer chaos.

Constantine took a moment to speak “I don’t think-“

He was cut off as a green portal opened up in the middle of the room, above the table. Everyone, excluding Dan, went still as it appeared.

“What the-“ Superman started to say, as Batman pulled out a weapon. They were both startled by a white and black blur flying out of the portal and attaching itself to Dan.

Dan was knocked out of his seat as Ellie bowled him over. He tumbled down to the floor, falling flat on his back. Ellie grinned at him, sitting on his chest.

“Got you!” she gleefully yelled out. Dan chuckled, gently shoving her off him. He sat up, and was greeted with his coworkers, who all looked ready for a fight. Their faces switched to confusion when Dan just blankly stared at them.

“What’s up?” He said, slightly sarcastically.

Ellie floated into the air, hanging upside down in front of Dan.

“Well, you were just tackled by someone they don’t know.” She pointed out, a grin on her face.

Dan sighed, gesturing to Ellie “Please meet my little sister, Ellie. She’s an annoyance.”

Ellie smacked him on the shoulder, before flipping around so that she was facing the Justice League, and also so that she was right side up.

“Hi! It’s nice to finally meet Dan’s friends!” She said, darting away when Dan attempted to hit her.

“They’re not my friends! We’re coworkers!” he shouted as she flew to the corner of the room, sticking her tongue out at him.

He sighed, before looking at his coworkers. Most of them were still stuck in a state of confusion, and Flash hesitantly asked “I thought your mom was coming?”

“Oh yeah.” Dan said, before yelling over to Ellie “Where the hell is Mom?”

Ellie floated closer “He was right behind me, so-“

The portal, which had slipped the Justice League’s minds when faced with the chaos that is Ellie, sparked as Danny stepped out, before it flickered out of existence.

Immediately, the aura of Danny’s power settled over the room. Being the King of the Infinite Realms afforded someone a lot of power, and death magic always affected people more than other magics. Also, the crown, ring, and cape made him look very intimidating. Combine that with his imposing stature (inherited from Jack) and he was downright terrifying. It was a comforting thing to Dan, who was used to Danny’s powerful presence. To the Justice League, however, it felt like the Grim Reaper himself had just come for the souls.

Danny looked around, spotting Ellie floating up above the table.

“Ellie, I told you not to scare them! We want to make a good impression.” He said, Ellie immediately darting down to stand next to him.

“Sorry Mom, I just wanted to say hi!” Ellie defended.

Danny sighed, ruffling her hair.

The Justice League looked so confused. Constantine looked like he was about to throw up.

“That’s… King Phantom.” Constantine said, shocked, before he scrambled to stand in front of the Justice League.

“We didn’t mean to offend, I swear-“ Constantine started, before Danny cut him off.

“Dude, it’s fine. I just came cause Dan asked.” Danny said with a chuckle, slightly uncomfortable. He had gotten better at the formalities that came with kingship, but he still wasn’t that comfortable when people begged for his mercy, understandably.

It seemed to hit everyone then. That this terrifying man, and king, was who Dan had been referring to when he said ‘Mom’.

While his coworkers processed his chaotic family, Dan floated over them to stand next to his mom.

Danny smiled, ruffling Dan’s hair. They were almost the same height now, so Danny didn’t even have to stretch to reach it.

“How have you been? I know we talk everyday, but it’s not the same as seeing you in person.” Danny said, a soft smile on his face.

“I’ve been fine, Mom. It’s nice, helping people.” Dan replied.

Danny beamed at him “I’m happy it’s working out!”

“Yeah, and you haven’t even tried to kill someone!” Ellie cut in, a smirk on her face.

Dan reached out automatically to swat at her, but she dodged.

The Justice League seemed to snap out of their shock.

They are started to talk at once, before Batman yelled “Quiet!” over top of the noise.

“I believe introductions are in order.” He said, before muttering under his breath “especially as they’re some sort of royalty.”

Dan hadn’t told them about his enhanced hearing, so Batman had no way of knowing that the three ghosts could hear him perfectly. Dan and Ellie shared a smirk at how done the man sounded with them.

Danny clapped his hands, startling some of Dan’s coworkers.

“Yes, you are correct! Danny Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, at your service!” Danny said cheerily.

Ellie spoke next “Ellie Phantom, Princess of the Infinite Realms.”

They both looked expectantly at Dan, who sighed.

“Dan Phantom, Prince of the Infinite Realms.”

Technically, he was also sort of the king, but it had been a different Infinite Realms that he conquered, so this one had decided he was a prince. He was fine with it, honestly being King sounded annoying.

Predictably, that led to another outcry from his coworkers. Constantine looked like he was having a mental breakdown.

When they had settled down, Superman asked “You’re a prince?”

Flash chimed in “Also, your superhero name is just your last name?”

“You’re the prince of the Infinite Realms. The place the entities are from?” Wonder Woman added.

Dan rolled his eyes at the questions, before looking at Danny pleadingly. Danny sighed, but answered the questions for him.

“Yes, we are the royal family of the Infinite Realms. And the beings there are called ‘ghosts’, by the way. Also, Flash, it was a superhero name before it was a last name.”

If anything, that answer made Flash even more confused.

Ellie stuck out her tongue at Dan “If you just told them about us, you wouldn’t have to deal with all these questions!” she sang out.

Dan groaned “Can you stop it for two seconds?”

“Nope!”

“I swear to the Ancients, I’m gonna-“

“Settle down, you two.” Danny cut in, stopping the argument.

Dan and Ellie gave him matching pouts. They loved arguing with each other over nothing, it was fun.

Danny sighed, before turning back to the Justice League.

“So, Dan said that you’ve got a ghost problem?”

Batman stepped forward.

“Yes. Someone is summoning ‘ghosts’ into our world and causing havoc. Constantine doesn’t know who, but they need to be stopped.”

Danny closed his eyes for a moment.

“Okay, got it. Some asshole in Central City.”

Constantine startled “How do you know where he is? I couldn’t find him, even with my most powerful tracking spells!” He shouted, before a look of immediate regret came over his face. He probably just remembered that he was yelling at a death god, or close to one.

Danny dropped his smile, his eyes going blank. His presence seemed to double, a crushing sense of doom coming over the room. Constantine realized just how much he screwed up.

“The Realms is connected to all, especially those who are going to die shortly.” He said, flatly.

Dan chuckled slightly at Danny’s scary act, sharing an eyeroll with Ellie. Danny tried so hard to be intimidating, and it never really worked.

(Meanwhile, the entire Justice League is trying not to faint. Constantine really needs a drink.)

Superman shook it off first, asking “Going to die shortly? Are you going to kill him?” his voice pitched down at the end, trying to sound threatening.

Danny laughed, the crushing aura receding “No, of course not!”

Superman nodded, relieved.

“I’m just not gonna stop the others from doing it!” Danny continued.

Immediately, the mood of the room plummeted.

“What do you mean?” Batman asked.

Danny gave them a sharp smile, Ellie and Dan mirroring it on either side.

“He is enslaving my people, Batman. I’m sure they’ll want justice for that.”

Danny turned, opening another portal above the table.

“I’ll go deal with the asshole. Ellie, Dan, let’s go.” Danny said, smiling at them.

Ellie patted Dan on the head, before darting through the portal.

Dan looked out at the Justice League.

“I’ll be back in a bit, don’t wait up.” He said. He was definitely going to take advantage of his family coming to visit him, he wanted to hang out with them a bit. Maybe show them Gotham? He knew Danny and Ellie would get a kick out of it.

With that, Dan walked into the portal.

Danny surveyed the Justice League for a moment.

“Thank you for helping Dan. Don’t be too annoying to him over all this, okay?” His words were light, but his tone was anything but.

Batman nodded seriously.

Danny smiled, stepping through the portal to go keep his kids from getting into too much trouble.

(Constantine looked seriously at Batman “Don’t call me for the next week, I need to get drunk. To deal with all…that.”)

---

Tag List!

@seraphinedemort @ever-changing-weirdo-3100 @thewondersoflebanon @botwadtict @akikkobara @sailor-goddess @dontfightmecauseillcry

#dc #dc x dp #my writing #fic #i hope y'all like this!#ellie phantom #danny phantom #dan phantom

543 notes · View notes

youwouldntdownloadapizza · 4 months

Text

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 6 - The Lodge

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

previous | next

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.1k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

Chapter 6 - The Lodge

A light rain had begun to fall by the time you reached the lodge. The dirt trail quickly turned to mud, and the horses’ hooves squelched with every step. You braced yourself, sliding off Bailey’s back and landing in the stuff with a resolute plop .

Though you’d had the foresight to waterproof your boots, water and mud were two very different beasts. You’d probably be scrubbing dirt out of your laces for a good long while once you got home. Which at this rate felt like it may not happen until well after you died of old age.

Sodden and starving, you tethered Bailey to a post and approached the front porch.

“More breaking and entering?” Joel asked as you crouched to a squat before the door.

“Nope.” You flipped up the corner of the doormat to reveal a hidden key. “Consider us lodge-sitters.”

“Aren’t you worried about break-ins?” Joel asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Joel, but this region isn’t exactly overflowing with people. And if any do find this place…” You trailed off as you slid the key in the lock, glancing up to meet his eyes. “Well, has a locked door ever stopped you?”

Before he could answer, you pushed through the door and stepped into the mercifully well-insulated structure.

The place was pretty bare-bones, with empty storage shelves built into one wall and a threadbare couch pushed up against another. The worn-down dregs of what had once been carpet covered the concrete subfloor here and there.

Despite it all, the sofa beckoned. You sank into it, backpack sandwiched between you and the rear cushions, and sighed.

Then Joel had the audacity to block your light.

“Can I help you?” you asked, opening one eye to glare up at him.

“What’s the plan?”

“Logbook. Linner. Leave.” You counted out the steps of your incredibly thorough plan on frozen fingertips.

“Linner?”

“We’re well past lunchtime. Not quite to dinner. It’s linner, the brunch of the afternoon.”

“That is so goddamn stupid.”

Even with your eyes closed, you could hear the smile in his voice. That is so goddamn adorable .

Joel trailed off towards the only other thing in the room, an old podium atop which rested the dusty, leather-bound logbook. A clicky pen sat nestled between the pages, bearing words he’d never expected to read again, let alone here:

Dr. Neil Henry, DDS - Austin Community Dentistry

He laughed, holding up the pen to show you.

“You know this used to be my dentist, back in Austin?”

“Did it now?” You smirked.

“Dr. Henry. Always used to nag me about flossin’,” he reminisced.

“Did it work?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Not ‘till after the outbreak, anyhow. No one’s around to give you a root canal nowadays. I’d rather not need one.”

“Fair point,” you said, well aware of the hypocrisy as you gnawed on an extraordinarily tough chunk of jerky.

Your eyes swept the stunning vista visible through the lodge’s massive windows. They reminded you of the ones in your office, and in the lookout tower. There was something about them that put you at ease, which made no sense whatsoever. They were glass, and not even particularly thick glass at that. Much like life before the outbreak, they were an illusion of security at best.

But still, you liked them.

Joel followed your gaze, and his breath caught in his throat at the view. It was beautiful. Not quite as magnificent as this morning’s sunrise had been, but still breathtaking.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Pretty, huh?” you answered without looking back.

“It’s like a screensaver. Or a wallpaper or somethin’.” Joel mused, eyes wide in awe.

“Hmm,” you mused. “Mine used to be a picture of the Great Wall of China.”

“Why’s that?”

“It was the default,” you sighed, picking out the raisins from your trail mix. “But also I’ve always thought ruins were cool as shit.”

“Plenty of those to be had nowadays,” he said.

“Too many, if you ask me.”

You both chewed in silence for a minute, watching the birds coming home from their winter vacations.

“You know Eugene leaves jokes in here?” Joel broke the silence.

“I did.”

“You hear his latest?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright,” Joel turned to face you, smile wide. “What do we want? Low-flying planes! When do we want ‘em? Nyeowwww.” He mimed a plane diving with his finger, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“That’s one of his better jokes.”

“Yeah, the man’s no Will Livingston.”

You smiled. You were intimately familiar with Livingston’s work, ever since Ellie decided to thank you for her new light-up sneakers with a selection of the punster’s greatest hits.

There was no need for a security sweep after you’d finished eating. The whole place was only a couple of rooms, and you’d already checked the perimeter before entering.

“Go get the horses ready,” you instructed. “I’ll finish up here.”

You scribbled your report in the logbook and tucked away the remnants of linner, swinging your pack over your shoulders before taking one last look at the view.

It was golden hour, and the sun hit the clouds in a way that transcended any screensaver comparison. It was as if you’d been granted a glimpse of heaven itself.

* * *

You watched from the porch as Joel took a drink from his canteen. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the chiseled scruff of his jawline–from an objective standpoint, the man certainly had a rugged charm to him. But he was far from the only cowboy type in Jackson. And this was far from your first rodeo.

As Joel tucked the canteen away, he remembered the outside pocket of his pack. It held loose bullets and some of Ellie’s hair ties, but most importantly, it held a ballpoint pen.

As he heard you turn the key in the lock, he called out.

“Hang on! I forgot something.”

Unlocking the door once more, you ushered Joel inside.

He jogged over to the logbook with his offering, swiftly swapping it out for the one with a touch of home. He was halfway to the door when his brain caught up with his eyes and he turned on the spot to inspect your logbook entry.

All clear, no signs of raiders or infected.

It wasn’t the description that jarred him. It was the names. His, of course, was transcribed in loopy cursive, the standard, un-misspell-able ‘Joel Miller’. Beside it was a nickname–no, a last name –preceded by a first name that brought everything into focus:

Jane Doe.

previous | next

chapter notes:

New chapter! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry for the long gap between updates, life has been cray.

Big Jane Doe reveal oooh!!! I would never blatantly rip off Yearling like that don't worry!!!!!!!!!! @justagalwhowrites BIG FAN THO

Curious to hear everyone's thoughts on this chapter and what's coming next, I legit have been planning out this whole fic with a very elaborate color-coded notecards-on-corkboard setup (I am, in fact, a virgo). So more fun stuff coming hopefully sooner rather than later.

Comments make me type faster!

Love you all so much, and thank you for reading! I got really creatively blocked during the writers' strike and getting back into fanfic writing has been incredibly healing. Grateful for you all.

taglist: @aspecialgreenie

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #no use of y/n #joel miller x f!reader #jackson era #joel lives #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal

53 notes · View notes

eternalglitch · 5 months

Note

Hiya! Just our of curiosity-

I know you have to log into Ao3 with an account to read LFLS now, I promise this isn’t about that. But I’m curious. I saw a previous post of yours that said “if LFLS had taken place over a longer time span just would’ve switched I it/it’s pronouns for green” and I was wondering, since I haven’t kept in touch with your blog (I’m sorry 😭)

have you decided to discontinue writing LFLS? Or do you still have plans to write more chapters in the future? I know you decided to put it on hold a while ago since you needed a break (which is ok, always prioritize yourself and your needs/health) I’m just wondering now if you’ve decided to completely stop writing it, or if you’re still just on a hiatus from it (and again, it’s ok if you are- it’s your life, you’re choice and time I can’t tell you what to do lol)

I wouldn't say that I've made the decision to discontinue it yet, no. There were several factors that led to where we are right now, one of the more important ones an interest in exploring new stories and getting more into ttrpgs after losing general interest in Rise of the TMNT, but Like Father Like Son is still very near and dear to me and I would like to see it finished. All of the story beats exist, after all, I just have to finish writing them.

I was hoping to start writing in general again around this time to ease back into it, but I made... choices and started taking a night time class every week night on independent Hollywood Screenwriting and Directing because why would I make a normal decision on how to spend my evenings. This isn't exhausting and eating up my free time at all (lying).

((I hope to eventually make my own indie cartoon pilot, so. Working on some skillsets and all that jazz.))

But, yeah! I would say you don't need to write lfls off as permanently unfinished just yet. There's still some plot points and moments I really hope everyone will enjoy. I miss the feeling of releasing a chapter out into the world.

In the meantime, I appreciate everyone's patience and maybe even interest in other stuff I may create in the interim!

#glitch answers

57 notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 7 months

Text

venor (3) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 3,419

○ Warnings: None

○ Notes: Honestly, I feel sorry for Yoongi. He's doing his best 🫠

○ Post Date: February 18, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Biting his bottom lip, Jungkook stares at the text message’s timestamp from five minutes ago. He cups his phone in his hands to block anyone from peering at the screen and dims the screen’s brightness, just in case the predators standing in line with him get nosy.

He’s at the cafe.

Obviously, he’s at the cafe.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, and Jungkook has no idea if Taehyung works weekends, but he’s here at Venor Cafe, waiting in line between a lizard hybrid and a jaguar hybrid. This time, though, Jungkook came prepared. He’s wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that falls past his butt. He used one of Yoongi’s hair ties to secure his ears and stuff them inside his bucket hat. Totally incognito. He could be a tiger, for all they know!

The thing is, Jungkook genuinely needs some caffeine. He’s taking a break from studying with Yoongi in the music studios, and Venor Cafe is the coffee shop closest to campus that isn’t overpriced. The possibility of seeing Taehyung is an added bonus, just a tiny extra component to the self-care errand Jungkook was planning to run anyway.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

There’s a little jitter to Jungkook’s movements as he approaches the counter. His wide eyes scan the employees, and his heart sinks when there’s not a single copper curl in sight.

“Hello! Welcome to Venor Cafe; what would you like today?” the hybrid at the register greets. She’s a snow leopard with beautiful blue eyes and a spotted tail.

Exhaling the air he’d been holding in, Jungkook rambles off his order without any mishaps. He even orders something for Yoongi, hoping it can be a sufficient apology for going against his hyung’s advice. It’s nice of Yoongi to be worried about Jungkook, but at this point, Jungkook thinks he has made it clear that he can take care of himself. Just look at him now! A prey in disguise.

Despite the crowd that has gathered in the cafe, Jungkook receives his order fairly quickly. He lingers for a bit, folding napkins into the pockets of his sweatpants and unwrapping straws for both drinks he bought. Eventually, he runs out of things to keep himself busy and can no longer stall.

“Um, excuse me?” Jungkook calls out from the side of the counter.

The snow leopard hybrid looks up from the drink she’s preparing. “Yes?”

“Is, um, Taehyung working today?”

“Who’s asking?” Her tone isn’t necessarily aggressive, but the downturn of her mouth and the wrinkles between her eyebrows match the defensive question.

“Jungkook,” he replies, too caught off guard to know how else to answer but with the truth – even if Taehyung won’t even know who Jungkook is if his coworker mentions it to him later.

After appraising Jungkook and likely deciding he doesn’t look like a threat, the snow leopard replies with a simple,

“No.”

“Cool, cool. Um, thanks!”

Jungkook lifts the drinks and paper bag of mini donuts he’d bought with gratitude before ducking out of the cafe through the front doors. So much for fixing his bad first impression. Or was it his second? Third? At this point, Jungkook can’t keep track of all the failed opportunities to introduce himself to Taehyung as a normal person would.

Jungkook treks back to the library, balancing the drinks and snacks rather precariously through doors pushed by his hips and kicked open by his sneakers. He and Yoongi have reserved a study room similar to the one Jungkook often books with Suyun. Private study rooms are handy when he and Yoongi don’t feel like dealing with predators misusing the library space and treating it like a social hour.

Yoongi is curled up in the corner of the study room. He decided to forgo the table and sat on a beanbag he dragged from another room in the library. Jungkook thinks it’s typical cat behavior, though he doesn’t dare comment on it. Yoongi might not have claws, but his eyes shoot daggers.

“You went to the damn cafe, Jeon Jungkook.” Yoongi’s tail swats at the ground before flicking back up in the air.

“I brought back snacks!” Jungkook hip-bumps the door to close it and plops on the floor with Yoongi, holding out the iced Americano he knows his friend will like. “A drink for you, a drink for me, and donuts to share. I’m an amazing roommate.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Yoongi complains around a mouthful of donuts.

“You love me.”

“Sometimes, Jungkook, I think you are a bit naive.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and gets up onto his knees to reach his laptop on the table. Careful not to knock anything over, he settles on the floor with his laptop on his thighs and his back leaning against the wall.

“Optimism and friendliness are different than naivety. You wouldn’t know because you’re a grumpy old man,” Jungkook points out as he pulls his hat off. When he finally unties his ears, he massages the base of each as they flop back into place, sore from being pulled backward at such an unnatural angle.

Yoongi closes the book he’s reading and smacks Jungkook in the shoulder with it.

“Take that back.”

“No!”

“Hmph,” Yoongi grunts, sounding just as grumpy as Jungkook knows that he is.

The two hybrids are silent for a while, both focused on their studies. Jungkook is working on designing a mobile app for one of his classes— it’s a video game similar to the Pokemon games he would play on his GameBoy when he was younger. From the looks of it, Yoongi is reading a novel, though Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s for fun or for class. That’s always how it is with the creative types, he supposes.

“Well,” Yoongi says slowly after clearing his throat. It comes out stunted, a little awkward. “Did you see your tiger?”

Cheeks heating up, Jungkook slumps against the wall and shrugs his shoulders to his ears.

“I didn’t…”

“But?” Yoongi gives Jungkook a sidelong look.

“But… he’s kind of in one of my classes now, so I’ll see him on Tuesday…”

Bewildered, Yoongi sets his book down and turns to look at Jungkook. His tail smacks Jungkook’s leg and wraps around his ankle, though Jungkook doesn’t think Yoongi even realizes it due to how excitable he’s getting. Jungkook still doesn’t know why this is such a big deal.

“How is he in one of your classes?”

“Hyung, I’m trying to do my assignment.”

“How, Jungkook?”

With a sigh, Jungkook puts his laptop on the floor and shakes his leg free of Yoongi’s tail.

“I don’t know. He just showed up last week. My friend said sometimes predators get to take classes with prey if they want to overload their courses to graduate faster.”

Suyun is probably correct; she’s one of the most intelligent people Jungkook knows. Jungkook doesn’t mention that she was the one who told him, though. He doesn’t want Yoongi coming up with any ideas about Jungkook being friends with one of the only prey students dating a predator on their campus.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi gives him an exasperated look, “I’ve heard bad things about that specific group of predators that Taehyung hangs out with.”

The confession doesn’t sit right with Jungkook. It feels like Yoongi is overreacting, and it reminds him of his parents. So many prey hybrids let fear and paranoia dictate how they live and who they spend time with. Jungkook doesn’t want to be like that, not anymore.

“And where did you get this information?” he challenges with his arms crossed.

Yoongi waves his hand, gesturing all around them.

“Everyone knows this. It’s common knowledge. They’re shady, okay? Starting fights at parties, drugs, sleeping around, stuff like that.”

Jungkook has lived a sheltered life, but everything Yoongi lists sounds like typical college behavior — at least, what Jungkook has heard about predator college students. Maybe he is naive.

“I promise I won’t do any of that stuff, hyung,” Jungkook says with a tug of Yoongi’s ear. “I’m a good kid.”

Yoongi scowls and smacks at Jungkook’s hand.

“A nuisance is more like it. Now do your assignment.”

On Tuesday, Jungkook arrives at his class on time, not out of breath and not sweating through his clothes. He crosses through the double doors at the back of the lecture hall and eyes the tiered seating as other students shuffle down the aisles. There are plenty of seats available since class hasn’t started yet. Near the front of the room, Jungkook spots Suyun talking with another student. Jungkook would immediately head for the fold-down seat beside Suyun any other day. He’d pull out the adjustable desk attached to the seat and prep his notebook for the day’s lesson, maybe even get out his phone to record the audio in case he got distracted. Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to go to his usual seat any other day.

But today, Taehyung is on time.

The tiger hybrid sits in the back like he did the week prior. Again, Jungkook thinks Taehyung looks too big for the seat, his long legs and broad shoulders sticking out compared to the smaller frames of his prey classmates. His striped tail drapes over the armrest of the seat next to him, and his ears flick as Jungkook approaches him.

“Can I sit here?” Jungkook asks, the words nearly sticking in his throat.

Setting down the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers, Taehyung turns his head to look Jungkook up and down. The slow drag of his gaze makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. Taehyung’s sharp, feline eyes trigger Jungkook’s fight-or-flight response. It takes tensing his muscles for Jungkook not to bolt down the aisle and sit with Suyun instead.

Part of Jungkook knows that this is an instinctual response to being near a predator. He wonders if Suyun still feels this way about Jackson or if she has gotten used to him enough that her body doesn’t react like this anymore.

An even tinier part of Jungkook thinks that, maybe, he kind of… likes it…

The adrenaline is exciting, and the dangerous energy Taehyung gives off makes Jungkook feel wanted – in a way he never has before.

Jungkook may be a bit naive, but he’s not stupid. He notices that Taehyung’s eyes linger on the smooth expanse of skin his shorts reveal. Jungkook silently thanks his morning self for picking a cute outfit for the day. He feels much better in cute jean shorts, a striped rugby shirt, and his artfully dirty white Converse than the usual athleisure he wears when he’s feeling lazy. Still, Taehyung’s predatory gaze makes Jungkook’s cheeks heat up, yet he refuses to look away when Taehyung’s feline eyes meet his again.

“Of course, bun,” Taehyung finally responds with a low purr that vibrates from his chest.

“Um, thanks!” A bit flustered by the unexpected use of the nickname in the middle of class, Jungkook quickly sits down beside Taehyung.

Jungkook tries retrieving his notebook from his backpack, dropping it on the floor twice before finally getting his desk in order. He can feel Taehyung’s gaze while getting his phone out to prepare the audio recording. A text message from Suyun is the first thing that pops up on his phone screen, and he sincerely hopes Taehyung doesn’t see it because it’s a complaint from Suyun about Jungkook ditching her for a predator.

Digging around in his backpack, Jungkook’s fingers scrape the bottom and find his back empty aside from his tablet and a binder. He’d been so worried about getting to class on time that he forgot his little sparkly gold zipper bag that carries his pencils and pens. This is what he gets for being old school and enjoying a break from electronics in his courses that aren’t for his major.

With a sigh, Jungkook leans back in his seat and weighs the pros and cons of asking Taehyung for something to write with or just using his laptop to take notes like most other students. He doesn’t have to worry about it for long before Taehyung decides for him.

“Need one of these, bun?” Taehyung whispers close to Jungkook’s ear, his breath tickling his neck from Taehyung leaning in.

With a shiver, Jungkook gently takes the pen Taehyung offers. It’s lightweight but smooth and inky, satisfyingly gliding across the page of Jungkook’s notebook.

“This is a nice pen,” Jungkook whispers back and feels silly for complimenting Taehyung’s pen.

Taehyung winks at Jungkook with a low chuckle before returning his focus to their professor.

Jungkook tries not to show how flustered he is, but he’s sure his scent sweetens with how embarrassed and nervous Taehyung makes him.

Unfortunately, class passes the same as it had last time– with Jungkook daydreaming about Taehyung and all the questions he has for him, and Taehyung being such a diligent student that Jungkook never catches him looking his way. Whatever Suyun said about Taehyung watching him must have been a figment of her imagination because Jungkook is positive he would notice if it was true.

Jungkook notices everything.

Taehyung’s fuzzy ears flick every time Jungkook shifts in his seat. He switches hands to write halfway through the lecture, perhaps because one of them got tired. His scent spikes closer to the end of class, that soothing smell of summer rain that makes Jungkook tingly all over.

It should be embarrassing how much time Jungkook spends thinking about the predator beside him and not what his professor is teaching, but it’s not his fault Taehyung is so alluring.

“And as a reminder,” Professor Jung raises his voice in anticipation of the noisy buzz that comes with the end of class as students pack up, “We’ll be choosing final project topics soon, so please don’t let that fall by the wayside.”

Jungkook has definitely let his project ideas fall by the wayside. It’s fine; he performs well under pressure.

Catching Suyun’s eye across the room, Jungkook sends a silent prayer that she doesn’t come charging up to him with Taehyung still in his seat. He tries subtly shaking his head at her, but he’s not sure his point gets across.

“Thanks, by the way.” Jungkook holds out the pen, but Taehyung doesn’t even look at it.

“Keep it.”

“But,” Jungkook watches Taehyung pack up his backpack, “It’s yours.”

“And now it’s yours.”

“But I don’t need it.”

Wearing a lazy grin, Taehyung grips the edge of Jungkook’s desk and leans in slightly, even as Jungkook subconsciously leans back.

“Y’know,” Taehyung begins with a lick of his bottom lip. When the grin returns, Taehyung reveals sharp canines that extend slightly further than the rest of his teeth. “I heard you missed me over the weekend, Jungkook.”

Before Jungkook’s cheeks even flush a deep pink, Taehyung is already pushing himself up to stand at full height. He gives Jungkook one last look and slips past him down the row of seats, never leaving Jungkook’s sight until he’s through the classroom’s double doors.

“What the hell was that?” Suyun is on Jungkook with a quickness, her large, rounded ears sticking up out of her straight hair.

Jungkook exhales slowly. “I… don’t know?”

Gathering his notebook and Taehyung’s pen, Jungkook almost misses the slip of paper folded in half and teetering on the edge of his desk. It’s intentionally folded and perfectly aligned at the edges, and the paper looks different than that of Jungkook’s notebook.

He doesn’t mean to be secretive, but Jungkook twists in his seat to hide the note when he opens it. Suyun is trustworthy; there’s no questioning that. Still, Jungkook wants to have the chance to process whatever this note is before he shares it with anyone else.

It’s a good call, considering what’s scrawled on the inside in small, messy lines.

vante95 2 pm Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays 10 am Saturdays

Jungkook refolds the paper and shoves it in his pocket. His entire face burns like a summer wildfire. He can barely stand up without tripping over himself, and he slings his backpack over his shoulder with shaking hands.

Taehyung gave him his KakaoTalk and work schedule.

Taehyung essentially invited Jungkook to text him and visit him at work.

Jungkook thinks he might be sick from how nervous he suddenly feels.

“Earth to Jungkookie,” Suyun shoves Jungkook in the arm as they go about their typical routine of walking to the library after class to study. “What is going on with you and that tiger, huh? You’ve been acting so weird the last week.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Jungkook contemplates how to answer Suyun’s questions. He opts for the truth, spilling his little no-so-secret infatuation with the predator in hushed whispers as they cross the main quad in front of the library.

“Do you think I should text him?” Jungkook holds the wrinkled note out for Suyun to read. A curious smile brightens her face, exposing her cute buck teeth.

“Oh my gosh, yes. He’s so cute, Jungkook! Don’t believe all that silly stuff about predators being bad. They’re not all so terrible,” Suyun urges.

If anyone knows what it’s like to trust a predator, it would be Suyun. Her encouragement is all the permission Jungkook needs to open the app on his phone and type in Taehyung’s KakaoTalk ID.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he expects an immediate response; he already knows Taehyung has work right now. Still, he feels disappointment sink like a rock in his gut after five minutes pass and his message is still unread. Should he have waited to text him? Does it seem desperate to send him a message so quickly after receiving his contact info?

Trying to pull himself together, he gets settled in a study room with Suyun and puts his phone on Do Not Disturb. He may be determined to get to know the mysterious tiger hybrid, but school will always come first.

Suyun stands at the whiteboard, which takes up an entire wall. She works diligently to draw diagrams of something chemistry-related that Jungkook doesn’t understand– many lines connecting hexagons and acronyms he doesn’t recognize. Jungkook may be studying science, but not that kind of science.

“So,” Suyun asks as she writes mathematical equations in pink marker that look more confusing than the hieroglyphs they were just studying, “Do you like going here better than your other school?”

“I do, but I think it’s a lot harder here. I feel like all I do is study.”

Suyun laughs and smiles over her shoulder at Jungkook.

“I totally get that. We need to do something fun, maybe go clubbing. I could see if Jackson’s friends are throwing any house parties. I feel like there’s usually a few of them right before finals, as like, a morale boost.”

“I’ve never actually been to a party…” Jungkook admits quietly, though rather than embarrassment, he feels giddiness at the prospect of experiencing another new college experience he was previously denied.

Suyun whips around and accidentally flings her marker across the room. Giggling, Jungkook gets up to search for the marker.

“Oh my gosh, Jeon Jungkook, we are going to a party. What else haven’t you done? I need to pop your cherry.”

“What!” Jungkook nearly shrieks. The shock of her statement makes Jungkook mess up his throw, and he ends up nearly chucking the marker in Suyun’s face.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m not, like, trying to take your virginity. Is that what you thought?”

Jungkook hides behind his laptop once he returns to his seat. He’s not ready to admit that, yes, he is a virgin. Admitting that usually gets him weird stares and inappropriate comments. One time, an old friend of Jungkook’s said he “screamed virgin”– whatever that means!

“Maybe we can start with a house party and go from there…” Jungkook offers with a suspicious look thrown at Suyun’s back. Maybe dating a predator has had an impact on the mouse hybrid, who otherwise should be naturally timid and prudish.

“Sure, sure. I’ll text Jackson right now. We’ll have all week to figure everything out.”

When Suyun reaches for her phone, Jungkook impulsively checks his as well. His heart leaps into his throat, and his palms sweat when he checks the notifications he’d silenced during their study session.

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#taehyung x jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #venor #taekook fanfic

101 notes · View notes

lapis-lights · 1 year

Text

Chapter 03 | Kiss the Skin From My Lips

'Falling From Grace' Series

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy

Content Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY), Unprotected p in v, Porn with feelings, Creampie, Some dirty taking but nothing too intense, The lovers in enemies to lovers

Word Count: 14.1k

Author's Notes: Chapter three of the Falling From Grace series! Sooooo....this is really my first time attempting a smut scene so criticism would be really appreciated if you have any! Otherwise, I hope you guys like this chapter :)

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: As tensions ride high between you and Leon, you execute your first infiltration mission of the J.I.E. lab. What you find inside is more than just a few simple monsters, but rather a life or death situation and an experience that leaves you and Leon absolutely breathless.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

And you can kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good... I'm not sure if you want it; I'm not sure if you need me too.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

When you wake up, there's a deep ache in your bones and you think sourly of how you're getting on in your years.

At this point, don't people start planning their retirement homes or something? You've led anything but a normal life so really, you wouldn't know, but from what you've heard, it's gotta be something along those lines. When did your twenties end and your thirties begin?

Jesus Christ, you've let yourself go.

You start your morning routine, ignoring Leon who's still happily snoring away, and taking a trip down to the first floor to the gym room. There's some flimsy equipment down there and it's definitely not the high quality stuff you get at actual gyms or at the J.I.E.'s professional training programs, but you'll have to make do for now.

You start with simple stretches to warm up as you ponder everything that has happened last night.

You think about the way Ada had looked and by proxy, Leon. He's never mentioned her to you ever so you suspect there must be a reason for that. Maybe he wanted to protect her from you in case you decided to go on a rampage or something, but that didn’t make sense either. Was Leon into the type of woman that could fend for herself or did he just care if she was a looker or not?

If that’s the case, you were definitely crossed off the list. The scar tissue bears a heavy burden.

You lose yourself in the familiar burn of exercise and it feels oddly good to hurt in the ways that tell you your efforts weren’t going to waste. Eventually, this moment of peace will come to an end just like all good things, but right now, you stay in the intensity of your workout. You don’t even notice the door opening.

It’s a guy you haven’t seen before, clean shaven and muscular. You can tell he keeps himself fit but whether it’s for work or just for show, you don’t know. He doesn’t look bad at all with dark doe eyes and light brown hair that sweeps across his forehead enticingly.

“I didn’t know pretty girls vacationed here,” he says and you rip your eyes away from the floor to meet his. What little respect you had deluded yourself into making for him bleeds away and in a split decision, you decide to play with him just a little.

“And I didn’t know good-looking men frequented these parts,” you fire back, batting eyelashes and giving him the most innocent look you can muster. “No need to flatter. I’m sure you could pull someone better than lil’ old me.”

“Don’t put yourself down so fast, babe,” he snorts, heading for the weights and you mentally roll your eyes as you see his intent to try and impress you with reps.

However, you keep up the disguise and take a seat on a nearby medicine ball while watching him carefully. “I’m not putting myself down–it’s the truth.”

He doesn’t answer but he does make sure to put extra emphasis on choosing a fairly heavy hand weight and beginning to rep without any warm up. Silently, you know he’ll pull a muscle eventually and all for a woman he’ll likely never see in his life again. Womanizers like him never made much sense to you, but you suppose human instincts can make people irrational at the best of times.

“So you got a boyfriend?” he asks and you hum.

Would you? Should you?

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” you decide on answering, which wasn’t much far from the truth itself in all honesty. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know if there’s anybody keeping me from taking you out.”

“You’re at a hotel,” you scoff. “Do you have anybody waiting for you back in your room?”

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” he grins.

So he did come here with someone. How disgusting. You’re not the most morally correct person in the world, but even you understand the basic agreement of being in a relationship, and furthermore, you kow the importance put on the concept of loyalty. Well…you know how it’s supposed to be.

“Right,” you sigh, “and what are you proposing we do?”

His eyes flash suggestively and if you had the energy, you’d projectile vomit. “I’d take you out for a real nice dinner then bring you back to mine so we could-”

He shuts up when the door flies open and Leon strides in so confidently you forget that he’s supposed to be back at the suite stuck in dreamland. However, the stormy glance he gives you is nothing compared to the downright murderous glare he directs at the guy you hadn’t bothered to get the name of.

"Woah, man," the guy says, blissfully unaware. "You must be riled up for a serious workout."

"No," Leon answers, voice clipped and tight in a way you've never heard him before. "I was just looking for my wife who happened to get a headstart in her day without me."

The guy's face pales when he motions to you and you shrug non committedly before getting up and opening the door that leads out. Leon is hot on your heels as you make your way out and it's not long before he's gripping your wrist and pulling you back to stop your stride.

"Mind telling me what the fuck that was?" He demands, keeping his voice just quiet enough to not disturb the other residents.

"I was having fun," you hum, "since you're providing no entertainment for me."

"You can't just go wandering off where I can't see you."

"I'm not a child."

“Of course you’re not, but you’re practically a walking target for any undercover agent,” he sighs as you wrench your hand from his grasp and scowl. “You scared me is all.”

The sentiment might’ve been sweeter if your brain didn’t remind you of his latenight amorous meeting with Ada and it sours your whole mood even further. Long gone is that steadily growin soft spot and it only gets replaced by stone cold bitterness. Had the world always been this dark?

You spin on your heel and ignore the confused sound Leon makes as he follows closely like he’s afraid he’ll lose you again.

“You’re losing your edge, Kennedy,” you sniff dismissively.

“What?”

“Isn't this all some complex business partnership to you?” The walk to the room seems to drag on longer than you like and the nagging feeling of his eyes on you makes you want to scream, cry, and break all at once.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” he asks as if this whole thing would be any different than past encounters.

You ignore him, approaching the suite and unlocking the door with your keycard and pushing through roughly, not waiting for any protest from Leon. Your brain flies with so many unanswered questions and they’re so loud that you want to fall to your knees and beg them to stop.

Unable to take it anymore, you whirl around and he almost runs into you from the abrupt halt.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?!” You demand, bordering on a plea but he doesn’t need to know how deep the desperation went.

His dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like–” you struggle to form a coherent line of thought, “–with those eyes.”

You know you don’t make much sense but you can see it register in his expression, dusty blue darkening into electric and the atmosphere rapidly shifts from one emotion to another. He’s so close now, less than an arm's reach away, and he looks at you from beneath his lashes in a way that’s enough to drive you to insanity.

Why was he doing this? How was he doing this? How was Leon of all people drawing you in deep enough to get under your skin? How could he command the tension between you like it was a simple race down a one-way street and simultaneously provide no context behind his motives?

Why did Ada come by last night and how did she know who he was? How did she know you?

These questions sprout one after another like those depressing time loop videos of flowering plants. He answers none of them and it’s only all the more infuriating.

“Leon,” you swallow harshly and stand your ground. “What do you want from me?”

The question is left hanging in the air, an unoccupied noose. It’s intimidating, dread on your shoulders like a heavy burden as you wait for an answer that never comes. Leon just looks at you like he was waiting for you to come to some revelation and answer the question for yourself but no such reason comes forth.

Ridiculous.

He does nothing, and his nonchalant exterior only makes you more infuriated and frustrated with the sensation of talking to the equivalent of a brick wall. Instead, Leon’s eyes flick around your face as if he was soaking every detail, absorbing as much as he could. You watch him warily like a hawk, wondering just how much longer the two of you could dance around this issue of unspoken feeling and silent motive.

Then, his eyes travel down to your mouth in a way you would’ve missed if you blinked. Your lips part as his tongue darts out to wet his own, the muscle gliding along his skin and leaving a light sheen of saliva behind.

The movement is miniscule but addicting all the same, and you’re almost knocked breathless with the urge to pull him close just to get his hands on your body. You want to kiss him so badly until his lips swell with the imprint of yours and his passion matches to suit your own. You want the taste of that spearmint gum he always carries around and the aura of alcohol that always stays with him no matter where he goes.

Craving flares in your stomach as tears well in your eyes, confused and angry as to why this was happening now.

Did Leon know how much he was torturing you? Was he just pupeteering you around just to leave you cold and alone like your family, friends, and past lovers did? You wouldn’t be able to handle that–you can feel it. That would be your breaking point, your hamartia.

Your death.

It takes all of your strength to pull away from him and his hypnotic spell though you’re not sure if he even had an inkling of the self-torment you’re undergoing with this new revelation.

He doesn’t stop you as you escape onto the balcony, slamming the sliding door closed, and gulping in the oxygen like you held your head underwater too long.

An ugly sob rips from your throat and self-loathing burns bright and hot in your gut. The heat is almost too much to handle as you hate yourself for allowing yourself to cry like this over something so miniscule and especially because of something Leon had done. He doesn’t even have the audacity to be sorry.

Still, emotions are nothing new even if your understanding of love is so warped beyond repair. You’re stronger than this. You’re better. You have to be.

Your knees give out and you have no choice but to fall onto one of the patio chairs and let the numbness spread through your body. The tears begin drying tracks on your cheeks as new ones follow the path of the old, but you don’t have the heart or energy to wipe them away.

What were your feelings about Leon truly? It’s obvious you don’t hate him as much as you had before and the thought of him dying now scares you more than ever. There’s still some old hate there, just behind your ribcage just waiting to explode outward again, but dulled by an entirely new portion of your brain.

The portion of your brain that wants to kiss him. The one that wants Leon to take you out on dates and make jokes as your husband and admire him under the golden lighting of the sun. The one that charges into your old self with a fierce snarl and starts a battle for your wishes and dreams.

Your head hits the back of the chair and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make sense of the whole entire thing.

Nothing but the image of that desolate and dead landscape from your dream comes to mind. You can still hear the rolling thunder and cracking lightning as if it had happened right in front of your eyes. You can still feel the sticky blood on your hands and the metallic scent permeating the air as lifeless eyes had stared up at you.

Devoid of passion. Devoid of anything.

Is that what you wanted–what you wished for? Is that your happy ending?

Somehow–for some inexplicable and unknown reason–you don't think so.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Guns weigh heavy in your palms, but in a cruel twist of fate, it also means home.

The power to kill someone lying in a variety of sizes are the only way to survive in your profession. That much is obvious. You've been through the same song and dance a million times over and then some–so this? This is nothing new.

Tensions have been high in the suite as you do your level best to avoid Leon while confined to such a small space with him. Over the past couple of days, your interactions have lasted with only a few clipped words and making plans to infiltrate the lab you'd found in the clothing department dressing room. Today was the day you'd decided to put your plans into action despite how poorly they've been communicated.

You know for tag team missions like this, communication is vital. However, you can't bring yourself to care. Being dealt potential death seems much better than having to face Leon and grapple with the warring thoughts tugging between wanting to end him and wanting more with him. He doesn't make it any easier.

He's not bitter. The exterior he puts up paints him as a grumpy middle-aged man whose experiences have only made him all the more angry at the world. You know him better than that, though. That's just how he is naturally, and if he was anything but that, you would know best how to spot the signs. However, this new attitude of his is something you’ve never encountered before so it’s hard to pinpoint just exactly what state of mind he was in.

Over the course of just a couple days, you find yourself struggling to hold on to that composure you worked so hard to craft. Leon leaves you alone and allows you to have your space, but even then, it takes all of your willpower just to not stare openly.

You indulge yourself late at night when his breathing deepens and your thoughts are just between you and whatever potential god there was. There were nights where your thoughts run rampant and take whatever chance you allow to admire him. You wish that there was something more between you emotionally and nothing physically. You want that sensation of his body on yours and what that might entail, and you want him deeper than you ever have before.

Shamefully, you wonder if he would burn just as deliciously as you imagined or if it would be more just because it's Leon. Would that controlled blaze turn into a wild forest fire under his advances? Would he steal your breath away roughly or would he take his unrelenting time to savor you all? Would he aim to watch tears roll down your cheeks or would he kiss them all away with whispers of sweet nothings?

Your enemy, putting you at the mercy of his hands and body, was a thought you kept sealed away tightly. Nobody could ever know about it.

When the morning came, you had checked your back and was delighted upon knowing that the wound had healed thanks to the full effect of Leon's questionable herbs. You'd put on your tactical gear over it, stretching to get the blood flowing and downing a coffee for good measure.

While he's in the bathroom, you check over your weapons once more and make sure all of your guns are loaded and stocked. Running out of ammo has been the reason for near-death multiple times so it’s especially crucial that you don’t make that mistake today.

Alone with your thoughts, you finally grapple with what you’re trying to do today.

For so many years, the J.I.E. had silenced you and molded your mind and body into a perfect little war soldier under the pretenses that you were making the world a better place. You’d been a fool, blind to the millions of deaths that were paying for the price of a few lives until that veil was snatched away and revealed the horrors of humanity to you.

Your eyes shut as you remember the chains, rubbing your wrists raw as you were forced into discipline. The memory of cold metal kissing your skin before breaking through it, promising worse if you hadn’t obeyed was fresh as a morning bloom in your head. Your own screams had sounded like they were from someone else, leaving your throat torn and your vocal cords frayed.

Leon would never know the extent of the pain you had gone through, even if he’s the only one that knew the basics. You were afraid of what he would think of that–of you.

He emerges finally ready and you stare wordlessly at him. A silent understanding passes between you and the two of you jump into action.

The car ride there is a blur. Despite having walked before on your small outing when you first got here, you'd figured it would be much easier to have a getaway vehicle ready and parked a couple blocks away just in case. The store opened early, and just in time for you to sneak in inconspicuously.

Avoiding employees was easy, especially after you had swiped a keycard from the manager’s stand upon finding it carelessly abandoned.

The dressing rooms were easy enough to get into and you led Leon into the one that you had changed in while you tried on that pretty little dress he recommended. It’s only been a few days but that night feels like it was so long ago, especially with how many cycles of emotions you’ve been subjected to since then.

Upon removing the middle panel, holding the keycard up to the gray block causes a loud click to sound out that notifies the door has been unlocked. Uneasily, you breathe in deeply and push in.

The interior is something you’re familiar with since it took on a similar appearance to that of the lab you’d been assigned to. However, the layout is foreign so it’s a toss in the air as to where anything could possibly be. The walls are lined with thick cords that are warm to the touch and the vibration of the lab's electricity current hums under your feet. You take out your handgun, keeping your finger off the trigger but staying alert all the same.

Leon fires off a shot and you whirl around just in time to see a camera falling to the ground brokenly.

The initial entrance is a straight shot but eventually you reach a hub of sorts where there are multiple tunnels branching off into different directions. Above them are signs that list the area of interest that each one led down to, ranging from dormitories to experimentations. The offices were the most dangerous to try and breach since multiple people working meant a bigger crowd to try and disperse if you got caught, though you're convinced that this place must be overrun like an ant colony.

"Where do we go from here?" Leon asks and your stomach flips.

You haven't heard him speak since your fallout a few days ago so it's an emotional whiplash being reminded of what exactly the most miniscule things about him do to you. Things that shouldn't elicit such reactions, making your skin spark with invisible electricity and putting your brain on high alert when he so much as breathes heavier.

"Anywhere we go is gonna be crawling with workers," you answer, keeping your composure. "They're usually confined to their assigned station for the whole day before being let off to go home. We should try and go to one that has the least amount of people or the biggest advantage for us."

"Where do you propose that might be?"

You look up at the labels above the tunnels before settling on one. "The observation deck. They use it to record the progress of their bioweapons and monitor any potential dangers they might pose so they're on a tight schedule. We might be able to find something about what they're doing there."

He nods and together, you make your way through the tunnel, shooting down any more security cameras you see and testing for any potential defense mechanisms they might have installed. It's eerily quiet besides the atmospheric noises and suspicion rises in your mind as you wonder why you haven't seen anybody thus far in your journey. You'd expected a flood of scientists or at least one assassination attempt as soon as you stepped inside, but maybe this wasn't as uptight as the lab you were at.

The observation deck was a series of catwalks crossing over a large arena, presumably where they let their bioweapons roam free while they stayed a safe height away from it. From where you entered, it happens to be in the 4th level, though the platforms stretch to multiple stories above your head. It looked almost similar to the pictures of the lab beneath the white house that Wilson had hidden away with the whole incident with Jason, though this one lacked any chemical experiments in the middle.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, pointing up to a space encased in glass. “They might have reports we can get into over there.”

Just as you go to begin walking, the static cracking of a speaker jumping to life immediately halts your steps. Leon whips around, pushing his back to yours as you defensively cover each other with your guns at the ready. There’s no telling where the speaker might be or where it was located, but the fact that it was active at all is a problem.

Then, the crackling dissipates and the voie comes through, muffled by the poor quality of a microphone.

“So you’ve finally made it,” the voice purrs through the intercom. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Neither you nor Leon answer, swiveling around and searching for any oddities while keeping your wits as the speaker crackles again and clears.

“Unfortunately, we don’t appreciate outsiders much, Agent (L/n). You should know that more than anybody.”

You grit your teeth, trying not to let their words get underneath your skin.

“Ah, well. You were a valuable asset to us. It’s so unfortunate we’ll have to do some clean-up, so to speak.”

Beneath you, something crashes against the wall with a violent boom and the dark growl of something massive reverberates through the whole entire room. A sick sort of dread grows as you look down before glancing back at Leon who’s sharing the same thought process as you are. It’s not that hard to deduce what would happen next, and silently, you pray to whatever’s out there that you would make it out of this thing alive.

“You really need to work on your speeches, pal,” Leon snaps and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t stuck in such a precarious and unpredictable situation.

“And you need to work on your manners, Mr. Kennedy,” the voice cackles, all ugly and sounding like they were hacking up a lung. “You’ll be regretting those words when you’re dead. Entertain the animal for me, will you?”

The speaker clicks off just as a metal door below flies off its hinges and nearly blows through the wall of the arena below. You break from the formation you and Leon had set up to look down at what you’re up against and your eyes widen with horror. It’s got multiple appendages whipping out from every limb, taking on the sick appearance of some mutated spider. Multiple eyes glow yellow as it glances around before zeroing in on you above it.

“Leon,” you mumble, backing up and he only gets a sparse good look at what you're up against before he’s grabbing your wrist and sprinting down the catwalk.

The beast screeches upon seeing its target on the move and one of those long arms shoots upward to latch onto the railing of the walkway. You just barely make it onto safe ground before it’s yanked away and the whole path crashes to the ground. Panic curls in your chest as you remember what had happened the last time you had faced off a bioweapon, and you start running after Leon once you gain your bearings.

All along the sides are countless offices that hold large filing cabinets, though they hardly matter in this chase scene. The monster hisses, spitting something before launching upward and beginning to climb the walls rapidly towards you. You’re able to deter it with a couple well-aimed shots to its head but, it only makes it angrier as well.

Once it’s up, your stomach jumps into your throat upon seeing that the thing is almost twice as tall as you are. It lumbers toward you with a hiss as it secretes acid that burns into the ground. Leon stops in front of you, pulling out a rifle and pressing the scope to his eye. You’re confused as to what his approach is until he shoots and the monster reels back in pain with a scream. When you look, you see that he’s hit one of the multiple grotesque eyeballs that embed along the legs of the mutated spider. It’s not hard to see where Leon was going with this so you take out your own rifle to join him.

Gunshots ring in your ears as you and Leon rain down hellfire, backing away every so often to put distance between you and the bioweapon.

Leon runs up a flight of stairs before shoving himself into a crevice that's only large enough to fit one. You stumble up after him and turn onto another catwalk, looking back and almost vomiting. The ugly monster's wounds are leaking pus that chews holes into the ground it walks on, eyes flicking wildly before finding you–entirely missing Leon–and heading frantically in your direction.

Of fucking course they made all of its bodily fluids acidic. What else would you expect?

You switch out your rifle for a magnum and shoot around Leon as he brings up the rear. He works on picking off the rest of the leg eyeballs while you set to getting the fucker right in between it's menacing yellow eyes. The recoil is almost unfamiliar, but you swiftly get back into the rhythm of handling the weapon, walking back before reaching to your tactical utility belt and yanking off an incendiary grenade.

You pull the pin, throw it, and shield your eyes from the burst of flames that erupt and start licking along the spider's body. It shrieks so ungodly loud that you would've almost clapped your hands around your ears if you didn't remember where you were and what your goal was. You reload your magnum as quickly and accurately as you can manage, and keep shooting. Leon sprints out, using the weakened legs as leverage to swing himself onto its back and start stabbing it with the combat knife he'd been hiding.

He's a genius and lunatic all at once.

You suppose this must be nothing new to him since Leon's faced who knows how many bioweapons at this point, but this is your first time seeing it up close and personal. He fights like it's second nature–like he's simply just breathing. It's mesmerizing to watch, but the moment is over when he gets thrown off into your direction and lands heavily in front of you directly onto his arm with a pained grunt.

You wince, hoping that it hasn't been broken or dislocated, reaching out and hauling him to his feet when he accepts your hand. Together, you keep shooting as Leon pulls the pin on a hand grenade and throws it at the spider's feet. You halt, palms covering your ears as it flashes multiple times then explodes, taking the mutated monster down with it.

Organs go flying everywhere and you duck to avoid the majority splatter of the acidic blood. The explosion causes a creak and only the middle portion of the catwalk sinks before crumbling down into the wreckage already created by the first ruined walkway.

Leon stands up, panting heavily as he looks down into the mess below that has sparked a fire and was burning merrily as if you hadn't just killed a man-made monster. Speaking of which, whose body had joined the metal below and had speared onto the sharp pieces that jutted out like a homemade spike pitfall trap.

He turns to you, going to open his mouth to say something but is rapidly silenced by a creaking groan and then he shouts in panic when the ground beneath his feet gives way. You gasp, lunging forward and grabbing his hand on instinct as the portion of the walkway falls into the void below and he's left dangling precariously from a fatal height with only you to hold onto.

He glances down then back up at you, desperation in his eyes as you both come to the same realization and conclusion.

You could kill him right now.

All you had to do was let go and it would all be over as if this never happened. He would be out of your hair and all that torment he subjected you to would dissipate like cotton candy subjected to water. This would all end if you would just take the chance to drop him into that dangerous trap where you would never have to see him again, never have to worry about him again. You could drop him and turn away without a second glance to see if he survived or not.

Leon’s eyes flash and you know exactly what it is despite never seeing it before. It’s pure unadulterated fear, with his life hanging in the balance of someone who had expressed distaste for him a healthy amount of times and whose certainly not favorable towards him in any way at the moment. Even if he saved your life, were you so willing to give up this once-in-a-lifetime chance?

You have the high ground now.

You determine his fate.

You could end it all right now by just yanking your hand away and taking back everything you had done to improve your relationship with him.

Your heart thuds marathons in your ears as all your muscles twitch and have a war in your mind. The thoughts curl and shriek around each other, fighting for what they believed the right thing to do was and it felt like the whole world was watching you for some sort of revolutionary choice.

You wince, knowing what your decision is.

Hauling Leon up, your legs burn as you lift his weight from the ledge and onto safe ground, rolling away when he finally lands on the stable ground that the catwalk had been attached to. Your lungs beg for air and you pant, faintly registering what just happened as you ride out that high of adrenaline. Leon must be out of it if he hasn't made a sarcastic quip about almost dying.

"We need to get to safety," you say, shakily getting to your feet and almost stumbling back down from the shock factor.

He only nods and you reach out to help him up. Even though you didn’t drop him to his untimely death, he looks at you warily before accepting the offer, almost falling to his knees again before you shoot forward and catch him. His body heat radiates through your skin and your cheeks set ablaze at the proximity even as you sling one of his arms around your shoulders and support some of his weight as you begin walking.

“There’s a safe room I saw on the way while we were running,” you mumble, avoiding making any sort of eye contact. “We can go over there and make sure you’re not hurt.”

“What about you?” He rasps and it leaves you wondering why he’s so adamant about the state of your health when he’s just looked death between the eyes.

You laugh breathlessly, almost sarcastically if you weren’t still riding the high of that fading adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me.”

You and Leon make your way to one of the cubicles, and you set him down carefully on the office chair that he manages to unceremoniously slump into. It’s clear that his almost-death is impacting him, though you now well that this isn’t the first time he’s had a touch of the afterlife. It really did make you wonder what about this time made it any different.

While he squeezes his eyes shut and massages the shoulder he’d landed on, you reach into your bag and pull out a first aid spray for him to use when he’s ready before standing and taking in your environment. The computer is innocently waiting on the stand with the J.I.E. logo set as the wallpaper, and there’s a filing cabinet that you try to open. It doesn’t give way and you mumble out a curse under your breath as you start poking around the desk drawers for a possible key.

Leo pops the top off the spray bottle and starts healing his wounds while you flip through various pages inside. Most of them are unhelpful and just detailing things you already knew until you tumble on a report for the spider you had just killed.

You put it into a manila folder that you put in your bag, rummaging around more until you find a hidden compartment that holds the key to the file cabinet. Upon opening the locked drawer, you find reports on agents–including your own–and details on the imports and exports the company had been engaging in.

Then, you hit the jackpot.

First and foremost was a folder of maps that laid out every level and room there was in the entirety of the lab. Then, there was a large binder that recorded every experiment the J.I.E. had engaged with the creation of their bioweapons, even detailing a new virus that they were meddling with. You flip through, finding monster after monster that has failed and succeeded. For now, this would be enough until you could figure out a plan using the map and going over the particulars of the experiments.

“We should go now,” you decide. “This is more than enough to figure out where we’re going and what we’re up against.”

Silence.

The lack of response causes you to turn around and peer questioningly at Leon who just nods mindlessly and gets up. He doesn’t meet your eyes and this attitude only makes you all the more confused. What had gotten into him?

Nonetheless, he follows as you make your way to an elevator that you go up in to return to the main hub that you had entered through. You suppose that nobody had watched you through the cameras and just automatically assumed you were being taken care of by the spider bioweapon since it's still suspiciously dead silent.

You still stay alert, and if you hadn't been so on edge, Leon would've walked right into the wire trap that had been meticulously strung across the tunnel. You pull him back sharply without thinking, fingers lacing with his as you yank.

He grunts as you pull away, going to carefully disarm it, figuring this was their way of alarming anybody you made it out alive. The explosion surely would have let someone know that there were two unauthorized people still running around, so it was good you had seen the thin wire and the two dark devices flashing red lights. Then again, you'd expected Leon to be just as attentive as you were to your surroundings.

Something was bothering him. Seeing him like this wasn't helping you much either, dying to know just what had him so distracted.

The two of you finally make it to the exit carefully pushing outward into the dressing room whose door had been locked when the two of you entered to prevent anybody seeing things they shouldn't be. A quick pack of wet wipes is enough to make yourselves look decent enough to not look like you’d been playing around in dirt and gunpowder, and you make plans to shower once you got back to the hotel.

All throughout your way back, Leon still stays infuriatingly silent from the lab to the suite, and the question as to why teases the tip of your tongue.

You get inside, let him know you're going to run yourself a bath, and retreat to the restroom as you sigh out with a whimper almost escaping in the process. In the solitude of your own thoughts, you finally let yourself feel that pain and anguish and confusion that you always hold back in the presence of Leon.

Fighting didn’t help at all. If anything, it only made it all the worse feeling guilt or something akin to it.

Would he ever tell you about Ada or was that just something you would have to figure out for yourself? Could you ever be closer to him knowing that he had said you meant nothing to him? It must be true if he had said it without expecting you to hear, and somehow, that sentiment causes a stabbing pang in your chest. It’s a wonderful and horrible thing–wanting someone so badly but knowing they would never want you back.

It’s a bittersweet taste on your tongue with a pungent aftertaste stinging your tastebuds, dooming yourself in the process.

Emotions were always so easy to stomp down and kill before. What about this whole ordeal could possibly make this any different?

Some dark part of your mind whispers that you know. You know what this provocative emotion is that makes your head spin and act irrationally, but you’d die before ever admitting it out loud. This may as well be worse than a death penalty–or rather, it is your death penalty.

The sound of rushing water acts as a soothing white noise until the tub is full and submerging yourself in the warm water causes a sigh of relief to fly past your lips in a gentle exhale. You take your time, washing your hair and massaging fingers into your scalp to help focus on releasing all of that tension that has built up over the past few days. The water turns gray from all that built up grime and dust and the soapy suds merely adds to the discoloration once you actually start scrubbing.

Once you’re done, you feel more human, more in control. The thoughts have quieted, and you finally start to feel like you can get a grasp on yourself again. You think you’re ready to see Leon and just simply resign to the watching the city on the balcony or going to sleep early like the past few days have allowed you. You can live with this. You can do it.

Once this is all said and done, you can part ways. You can forget him.

You could…

You have to. Right?

You step out, steam chasing after you as if beckoning you back into its warm embrace and you find Leon staring out the window mindlessly. You get hit with deja vu as it reminds you of the first morning you’d gotten here and watched the sunrise together. That was when you were nothing more than unlikely but eager allies. Now? You don’t know what you are.

You don’t want to be the one that wants him while he just wants the entertainment. You’re smarter than that.

“Hey,” you call out and he turns slightly, acknowledging you. The atmosphere turns slightly awkward when he provides no verbal answer. “I’m just going to go sit outside for a bit since I guess you want to be alone right now. If you need me, I’ll be-”

"Stop."

His command makes the words fade from your tongue and you swallow harshly. The first words he’s spoken to you since asking how you were at the lab are spoken roughly, making your heart drop into your stomach. When had you started listening to him when he ordered you around? You weren't one of his rookies or agents on his team, but right now, you were completely and totally at the mercy of whatever he might do.

"Why did you save me?" He asks tightly, turning around and finally getting a good look at you in an oversized t-shirt with pajama shorts barely peeking out from underneath the hem. His eyes wander and he swallows harshly. "You could have killed me–ended this feud and finally been the hero of this whole story. Why did you do it?"

You don't have to think about the answer, but it's shameful. After giving him the cold shoulder upon hearing him with Ada and sealing your emotions in a tight little glass bottle, they come spilling out now for Leon to pick through and judge.

"I don't want you to die," you whisper, taking a step back, afraid of whatever he might say.

He moves toward you at an excruciatingly slow pace, expression unreadable and more intimidating than the literal bioweapon you had survived just hours ago. You match his footfalls backward and you think this fear must be what prey feels like when death has locked eyes on it.

"I can't–We can talk about this, yeah?” You try explaining, wondering if there was any possibility you could talk your way out of this. “It doesn't matter–not really. We just…"

You're rambling now, trying to find an excuse to stop those blue eyes from piercing your soul and peeling away every layer of defense you've built up. He keeps getting closer and you're running out of room to escape to. You've never been more scared of him than in this moment–even when he almost killed you the day you met, you've never felt like this. A deer in the headlights, electricity coursing through your nerves as your brain struggles to choose between fight or flight.

Did he know? Did he know about all those lingering gazes and words that held guilt behind them and all those emotions that you weren't supposed to be having clogging up your chest?

Your back hits a wall and you're fucked.

Leon's hand finds your waist when he's close enough, your skin rushing hot as his breath fans your face and you smell spearmint. It's addicting. He's addicting. Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, pounding anxiously as the nerves in your body light up like a Christmas tree.

When he speaks, it’s all low tones and so fucking attractive.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, affectionately raw in a way you never would've imagined him to be. His other hand comes up, cupping your jaw delicately and all the blood rushes to your face.

He's called you many things before, and has used more than enough adjectives to convey this disdain for you. Annoying, disgusting, naive, revolting, repulsive…but never in a million years would he have called you sweet. You must be dreaming, and if you are, you never want to wake up.

"I'm actually a very indulgent creep," you wheeze out and barely conceal a whimper. "Leon, you-"

He cuts you off as his lips press onto yours and all rational thought leaves your brain in an instant. His mouth molds to yours, fingers on your waist mindlessly beginning to run circles as he presses heavily onto you as if this is what’s been wanting just as much as you. All you can feel is him, his hands on your body, his mouth working your own in such a sinful way that makes your head spin and your stomach do cartwheels.

You close your eyes, let yourself fall from grace, and plummet.

His tongue licks into your mouth and you moan as he presses you further into the wall as if it were possible. His grip turns almost bruising on your skin as he guides the hand that had been caressing your waist down to your thigh, prompting your leg to wrap around him. When you get the hint, he uses the momentum to haul you up and you squeak as he gets his arm underneath you with ease and stabilizes you.

Leon laughs breathlessly, and he kisses on your neck. Your fingers thread through his brunette locks while you work on refilling your lungs with air. This small hint of joy–this humorous moment in something so tense–is what really matters. You can’t believe this is happening, but the way his touch burns is more than enough of an indicator that this is real.

He moves with you in his arms like you weigh nothing. Leon lets you down onto the hotel suite's bed gentle enough to not hurt you but still rough enough that you bounce from the buoyancy of the memory foam. Your back hits the mattress and everything seems to fall into place the way it should be.

Leon's hands are all over you, trailing from your hips to your stomach and up to your chest. The touch of his palms burns your skin like trails of heated lava pleasantly oozing along your veins. He burns so brightly but yet so so good. Leon hikes up your shirt, exposing your stomach to the cool air that blows across your burning body as his tongue pries your mouth open again. You hum in satisfaction as his wet muscle curls around yours hotly and arousal sparks in your gut as you feel slick just starting to begin pooling uncomfortably in your panties.

He pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth as he pants, your legs still straddling around him even while you lie down. He looks so fucking pretty.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teases and you kick him lightly in the back with your heel.

"You wish," you retort mockingly. "You're all bark and no bite."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

You smile, something genuine and soft and so beautifully crafted just for him. "It's whatever you want it to be."

"Then let me tell you how I want it to be." His hot breaths fan across your skin and you really do feel like you're already burning as his fingers pull your shirt further and further up your torso.

"Go ahead," you pull him closer, noses bumping together as you press a feather-light kiss to the stubble on his cheek. "I'm listening."

"I want you underneath me," he admits it like he's in a confessional, but whatever this is is far from holy. "I want to hear how you sound when I make you feel good, sweetheart." He nips at your neck, soothing the tiny burn with the flat of his tongue. "Can I do that for you? Will you let me?"

You wouldn’t just hand everything over to him on a silver platter. A little teasing never hurts, right?

"I don't know," you hum, though every instinct in you screams to submit just so he can do whatever he wants with you. "All this just for a little entertainment? You sure do go all out, Kennedy."

"Is that what you think this is?" He pulls away and you almost protest at the lack of contact until you get a good look at his expression. Something like sadness and doubt lining those electric blue eyes that you've come to stare at for hours.

You don’t like the sudden shift in atmosphere so you shake your head in hopes of clearing those shadows away from his head. “Of course not–I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of wording on my part.”

He laughs, nervous and still lingering with some semblance of unease. “You sure know how to keep me on my toes.”

“I haven’t been this close with someone in a while,” you admit and shift your eyes to a random spot on the ceiling, trying to ignore the giddy feeling that came from him still hovering above you from between your legs. “You should know I’m not very…experienced or anything. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises, fingers tilting up your chin so he can lean upward to press a warm kiss to your forehead. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

You take the time to consider this, knowing that whatever was about to unfold would be something big in your relationship. It feels like there hasn’t been enough time to process your undying devotion for him or the questions that still linger behind Ada’s appearance, but you do know that this is something you can work out. This is something you want.

Still, there’s just some things you can’t let go of.

“Before I answer that,” you sigh, hating that you’re bringing down the mood with your fears. “Can I ask what Ada was doing here–what she wanted?”

Leon’s eyes take on a new emotion and his whole body tenses. You’re afraid that you’ve struck a chord he wouldn’t want to discuss and you fearfully wonder if this would sever any chance you have with him.

“You know Ada?” he asks and it’s painful when he says so. Whatever she means to him, it must not herald any good will.

“No,” you frown. “I heard you talking a few nights ago on the balcony. You…” The words don’t come off your tongue stubbornly, trying to stuff themselves back into your throat. “You said I was nobody–that I meant nothing to you. I mean, if that’s true, then what could you possibly want me for?”

The sting of it all comes rushing back in this incredibly vulnerable moment. You were never good with intense emotions nor did you have a good handle on them when they exploded outward like a volcanic eruption. It’s no surprise when the tears start threatening to fall, though you curse them and hold them back in an attempt to keep your dignity.

Leon makes a wounded noise deep from the back of his throat.

“I was trying to protect you.”

It doesn’t make sense. “What?”

He ducks his head, and you desperately try to understand. “She’s backstabbed me more than once. I can’t count how many times Ada’s used me for her own gain, and I just–I couldn’t just let her get her hands on you that easily.”

“So…?”

“I lied,” Leon pleads, and the ice melts away from your burning heart. “You mean everything to me, (Y/n). I can’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

“Leon,” you whisper, all too vulnerable and drowning in that unnamed emotion. The answer to his questions and advances pours from your lips like a sacred waterfall, ready and yearning. “I want you. Make me feel good–I’ll let you.”

His pupils dilate and he dives back down, claiming your lips with his in a rougher kiss than the ones previously before.

Your fingers tangle in his hair when he moves down, tugging on your shirt so that it could finally come off over your torso. The cool air blows across your hot skin, moaning when he massages the pad of his thumb around one of your nipples, and the pleasure sends your thoughts into a whirlwind.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this,” Leon murmurs, eyes slipping shut as if he was trying to map out and memorize your whole body.

You don’t get to ask what he means by that when he opens his mouth and licks the flat of his tongue wetly across your tit. Your head tilts back of its own accord, a strangled moan escaping in the process before you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. Heated shame rushes to your cheeks as you look down, already finding Leon gazing up at you, mesmerized.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he prompts, pulling your arm away. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

Why was he so persistent with the pet names? If he keeps this up, you’ll be nothing more than just putty in his hands.

“Stop,” you whine, covering your eyes like that would change anything. “You’re gonna drive me insane if you keep saying things like that.”

“Do you not like me calling you names?”

You peek through your fingers to find him all the more attentive, trying to find what you don’t like and what you want. That love, care, and attention was something you never had–never deserved. How could you tell him that he’s giving you everything you want while not discouraging him from doing so?

“It’s not that,” you swallow shamefully. “Nobody’s ever told me that. Or called me anything, for that matter. It’s just new–I think I’m trying to figure out how to handle it all.”

His expression darkens and you think he might tease you or tell you to suck it up. Instead, Leon almost growls out, “Nobody?”

You make a noise of confirmation.

“Oh, baby.” He rests his cheek on your stomach and traces patterns on your skin. “Your last partner didn’t?”

You scoff, deciding to be vulnerable just this once. “My last partner was in highschool, honey.” The pet name feels foreign, but good nonetheless. You can understand why he seems so insistent on using them with you. “Like I said–it’s been a while.”

“Even so.” He picks up his head and shakes it, moving even further down and hooking fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “They didn’t appreciate you like you deserved then.”

Your voice cracks as you rest your head back onto the pillow and whisper, “I don’t think I did.”

Down, down, down your shorts trail along your legs, leaving you in nothing but a lacy pair of underwear and all too vulnerable emotionally and physically. You make a noise of dissatisfaction, tugging on Leon’s shirt as he was still unfairly dressed.

He chuckles and gets the hint, leaning up to throw it off as you get to admire his body. There’s multiple scars from the tussles he’s engaged in with fighting bioweapons for a living, but one in particular catches your eye. Set proudly on his shoulder is a bullet bound that looks to be years old, all knotted and improperly healed. He must’ve not had the right care available to him when he got it. Leon sees you eyeing it, and smiles, albeit a bit sadly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges, falling back over you and kissing you softly, leaving a peck on your chin as he keeps going down.

“I’ll worry about it later,” you compromise.

Leon lifts one of your legs, trailing featherlight kisses down your calves and into the inside of your thighs before swapping to the other and repeating the action. You sigh blissfully, letting that arousal build like a growing fire in your belly until you absolutely need something to quell it. You need him to do it–nobody else.

There’s nobody else in the world you would be this exposed to. There’s nobody else you need.

“Leon,” you whine, hips gyrating as the accumulated wetness has become noticeably uncomfortable. “C’mon. I’m dying here.”

He actually laughs at that–not a chuckle or a huff of a breath that you’re so used to. A laugh, warm and genuine and painting lines across his features that you commit to memory in case you can never have this moment with him again. The possibility that this is a one-time thing is terrifying, but it gives you all the more reason to savor it.

Granting you some reprieve, he finally, finally, presses a heated kiss to your clothed clit and you cry out, hips bucking up of their own accord because you needed more than just the slight touches he was teasing you with. Leon gets his hands on you, driving your pelvis down and holding it in place as he licks a heated stripe up the outside of your panties. It's a warm, wet, and wild sensation–one that gives you a taste of Heaven without actually being there.

The feel of it is enough to drown you as you struggle to writhe beneath his restraint, head tossing back and heart fluttering to the beat of hummingbird wings. Your fingers tangle in his hair instinctively and pull, earning a delicious groan from him that reverberates through the room. You’re obsessed, or something along the lines of it, and you hope this never ends.

"You're so beautiful," Leon murmurs, eyes fluttering shut before he begins yanking off your panties like they offended him personally. Your glistening core is exposed to him, positively dripping from just the small things he's given you so far. "Jesus Christ, sweet girl. Is this all from the little I've done?"

You squeak as he positions your legs over his shoulders, breaths puffing right over your waiting cunt that impatiently pulses with the need to be filled. He still doesn't allow you much room to move and a desperate little noise makes its way from your throat as he teases you with everything you want so close yet so far.

"Use your big girl words," he prompts gently, tilting his head so that it rests on your inner thigh. "I need to know that you want this."

"I do," you whimper immediately, trying to find solace in tweaking one of your nipples for some sort of pleasurable reprieve. All that dignity you'd been trying to preserve goes out the window. "I want you so bad, Leon. I can't take it anymore–please, please."

"Good girl," he purrs, all sultry and seductive.

You choke on a gasp when his lips close around your folds, sucking sharply and swirling his tongue in your clit roughly. Instinctively, your hips break free and shy away from his touch, but Leon has none of it and merely pulls you back down to keep attacking your poor cunt. You moan freely, hand tugging on his hair as he laps up your arousal like a dying man and when his eyes flick up to meet yours, the fire in your belly flares.

You cry out his name, unable to vocalize or convey just how good he was making you feel. You've never had this before–this attention and euphoria.

Leon's head nods into you as his tongue fucks you deeper and you squirm under his ministrations, pushing against his face in vain as if he could grant you more than he could. He sinks his middle finger into your wet heat, tongue circling on your clit as he pumps in and out of you. The noises your pussy makes when he adds his ring finger and starts rocking them in and out of you would almost be embarrassing if you weren't so focused solely on how he was making you feel.

He eats you out like this would be his last meal, savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he fingerfucks you brutally. Experimentally, he curls his fingers up and you squeal, babbling incoherently and just settling on begging him to let you go. You can feel it building up just as he brushes against a spot deep inside you that makes you ascend, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure pricks tears in your eyes.

He moans appreciatively, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and as you grind desperately against him. He keeps you as still as he can manage, but you're not a world-class agent for nothing. Even as Leon tries to control the thrusting of your hips upward, he also has to work on keeping your legs spread open in case you crush his head in between your thighs.

Maybe he wouldn't object to it.

Leon pulls away, watching his fingers disappearing into you with a nonexistent resistance, cooing over your whimpers. "Does that feel good, sweet thing? Fuck, you taste amazing."

You keen at his words, face blazing hot as he momentarily takes the time to rub his wet fingers all across your folds so that cool air kisses between your thighs. "Leon!"

"You say my name so prettily," he sighs erotically, pushing his fingers back into you and scissoring harshly as he's knuckle-deep. "You gonna let me stretch you out? Gonna let me fuck you so good, all you can think about is my name?"

"Please," you whine again, and you have a feeling you'd be asking him for a lot tonight. Trying to think of any way to speed up the process so you can get what you really wanted, you whisper desperately, "Baby, I need you inside of me."

"Fuck," he hisses, voice gravelly as he begs. "Let me fuck you, angel. Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

Your legs spread even wider as he works on getting his jeans off, and you eye the happy trail that takes route from his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his boxers. He's leanly muscular, though he's nothing short of attractive to you.

To think that only a couple weeks ago, you would've killed yourself before even thinking about having sex with Leon Kennedy. Now, you think you would offer up yourself to whatever god existed just to be able to have this again–to be able to have him again. This vulnerable moment where all he wanted was to make you feel good and to hear you scream his name is something that has come straight out of your fantasies.

Fantasies during nights where you thought about touching yourself because of him but holding back because trying to hold back your noises while the man was literally sleeping in the same room was a horrendous idea. All that time you thought about what he would do to you and craving a touch you never thought you would get is paying off as he eyes you hungrily from above, licking the slick you'd left off of his fingers and palming the obvious tent in his boxers.

"You're staring," he comments slyly and you roll your eyes.

"And you're thinking about me," you accuse.

A smirk grows on his face, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he shuffles down the waistband of his underwear only slightly but just enough so you can see the implications of his sculpted v-line.

"How did you know?" Leon hums and you blush furiously as if that persistent heat could burn any hotter.

You turn your face away, unable to hold eye contact without getting flustered all over again. "Take it off before I do it for you, asshole."

"Would you?" He croons and you hide your face in your hands from the embarrassment of his unspoken words. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, sweetheart."

It doesn't feel like you're adults right now, but rather two stupid teens getting up to something they shouldn't and acting like they were grown ups. It doesn't help the fact that you've had a playground rivalry for who knows how long, something so childish that you can't believe you'd let your icy emotions get the better of you for all those years. You can't help but wonder if this is something you could have had if you hadn't been so blind-eyed by the J.I.E.

You feel the mattress shift beneath you and you pull your hands away from your eyes just in time to see Leon throw his discarded boxers somewhere else in the room, but it doesn't take long for your eyes to trail down. Leon's cock stands stiffly at attention, already leaking precum from the angry red tip that he hadn't even touched yet. Your mouth waters, and your hand twitches to wrap around it though you haven't had this experience for maybe over a decade.

"See something you want?" He teases, though the words barely reach your ears as he climbs back to hover over you.

You're crazy, and you know it by the way the words fall from your lips without a second thought. "Yeah. Was it from just…?"

His cockiness fades for a moment and his eyes soften, a genuine smile spreading across his features and lighting up his already-flushed face. "You're incredibly sexy when you're enjoying yourself, princess." You startle, and he laughs lowly, pecking your cheek. "Liked that one, huh?"

Leon kisses you deeply and you moan upon tasting yourself on his tongue as he feels up your torso and wipes a thumb over your breast. Blindly, you feel down his stomach, appreciating the definition of his well-deserved abs, and finally get a shaking hand around his dick. The action elicits a rich groan from him, even though you've barely even touched him.

You slide your thumb across his slit, beading wetness sliding down your palm and providing the moisture you needed to stimulate him just right. Your motions aren't smooth by any means, and Leon can probably tell that you're not used to this, but he must be getting something out of it by the way his mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut with that beautiful blush spreading across his skin like wildfire.

"Careful," he warns, but it ends with a guttural moan when your fingers brush delicately across his balls. "Shit, you're gonna make me go insane."

"It's payback, baby," you simper, groaning when he runs a finger up your folds in punishment. In revenge, you pump your hand a little faster around his length and you can feel the throbbing veins pushing into your palm.

Leon pulls your wrist away, and you go to protest, wanting to give him more like he'd given you, but he shakes his head and cuts you off with a well-meaning kiss. "We'll do that another time, doll. Right now, it's about you."

"But-"

"C'mon," he cradles your face so gently that the words die on your tongue. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm right here–I'm not going anywhere. Not not, not ever."

His words cause your emotions to soar, tears leaking vulnerably from your lashes and he wipes them away gently with the pads of his thumbs. Nobody ever stays like he promises and the threat of him breaking that vow hangs precariously in your mind on whether you'll truly take it to heart or not. All around you is him, hands on your body and voice floating richly in your ears. Could you have this again and again? Would he stay long enough to let you?

"Don't leave," you beg pathetically, looking up at him through shamefully teary eyes. "Just don't go."

"I promise," his forehead presses against yours as he whispers vows under the cover of this private moment with just the two of you. "I promise."

You lock your legs around his waist and pull him downward so that his cock taps impatiently against your stomach and Leon quickly gets the hint as he reaches down to pump himself a couple times in preparation. He kisses you deeply, passionately, as he lines up with your entrance and the weight of anticipation causes all the blood to rush to your head. He grinds for an agonizing moment, dick sliding between your folds tantalizingly slow before he finally gives in.

The head of his cock presses into your cunt and your mouth drops open, skin flushing as you pull him closer to get your lips on his to muffle the desperate sounds you make as he sinks inch by agonizing inch into you. Your thoughts scatter until nothing but Leon fills them and your heart beats marathons in your chest.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he pushes further into you as you adjust to feeling him inside of you. It's been literal years since you've last had sex and though you'd never expected it to be with Leon, it feels a lot more sentimental and pleasurable than the affairs you'd had with past partners.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," Leon groans out, rolling his hips so that he bottoms out and the euphoria washes over you so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Le–on," his name falls brokenly from your lips, head spinning as you glance down and spot the outline of him bulging from your skin.

Leon's forearms land on either side of your head, his nose bumping yours as his lidded eyes search yours. "Say it again. Say my name again, sweet thing."

Fucking hell, his nicknames were going to be the death of you.

"Leon–" you cry out when he sharply thrusts once, twice, then slowly begins setting a pace that has you seeing stars. As he adjusts to being inside of you, his speed increases in increments. You allow yourself to be loud, because right now, you could care less about dignity when Leon was just getting started.

His hips slam against you harshly, and he has you almost screaming when you can feel your plush walls hugging every vein and definition of his cock that he drags through you sweetly. His balls clap noisily against your skin and just the sound of it alone was enough to get you high and ever so closer to that sweet release. Leon's lips land on yours, kissing you roughly and the euphoria you were gifted from him abusing your hole was enough to keep you on cloud nine for at least a week.

"Do you know how much I thought of this?" Leon grunts out, moving down so he can kiss the skin behind your ear affectionately. "Getting to fuck you so good that you don't remember anything but my name?"

His words make you whine and writhe beneath him until his hands hold your hips down so he can continue jackhammering into you at that relentless pace. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix bruisingly and the fact that he's so deep inside of you is enough to leave you absolutely dripping.

"Leon–fuck, fuck!" You cry out as he folds one of your legs up and settles your knee into the crook of his elbow, using that leverage to fuck your sweet cunt even harder.

"All mine," he mumbles, pussy drunk and caught in a brain fog. "So fucking beautiful and all for me, yeah?"

You barely manage to hum out an affirmation but the torturous pleasure he subjects you to makes it sound borderline pornographic. Your thoughts scatter in the wind and only leave you enough sense to rack your fingers through his hair as he rocks his cock in and out of your hole, addicted to the feeling as you lose yourselves within each other.

Higher and higher Leon takes you, licking up the column of your throat and biting hickeys into the skin of your neck as if to mark you as his. The pleasure burns brightly, a traveling firework climbing up to the sky in hope of exploding outward. This sensation–something you've never had before–is what makes you obsessed and afraid to ever let go. All those years that people came into your life and left without prompting is negated by the fact that he's stayed.

Leon stretches you into a full-on mating press, your knees kissing your chest as he fucks you deeper than before. You sob brokenly, clasping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life as he pistons his hips harder into your dripping heat. The weight of him on your body as he works you both up to your heights drives you crazy and you can feel all that tension building up–that firework ready to burst.

"You know how pretty you looked?" He grunts out, working his thrusts as if he could go any deeper than he already was and you squeak as he gives your tit a slap. "All dolled up and wearing that pretty little dress I picked out for you? Fuck, I was so close to taking you that night."

"Leon," you whimper as those clear blue eyes bore into yours, hooded with lust and swirling with more emotion and passion than you've ever seen before. "Shit, if that's what you really think, why didn't you do this sooner?"

"Do what, sweet thing? Fuck this pretty pussy 'til I was rearranging your guts?"

You whine submissively at his words, tugging him closer, and hiding your face in his neck. His cock ploughs into your shopping heat, fucking you like the two of you are animals. Leon swallows your gasp, tongue lolling out to beg for air until he captures your mouth and steals all the breath from your lungs. His tongue wrestles your one into submission before pulling back, a trail of saliva connecting your moist lips.

"I wanted to," he admits vulnerably, "so many times we were alone–wanted to bring you to a quiet little place where we could forget about the missions and rivalries and show you what you were missing.."

You weren't going to last long if he kept revealing secrets like this was some sort of steamy confessional.

"I thought you hated me," you gasp, keening when his pace slows and begins favoring hitting you deep and hard over speed. Your eyes roll upward before squeezing shut and just revealing the feeling of him all around you in the best case of sensory overload. "I thought you wanted me dead where I stood."

He tilts your chin up, rutting deep into you that makes you see stars. "That cocky little girl who was unkillable, maybe. But, you showed yourself to me and there you were."

"But, you-"

"I didn't want to scare you off," he sighs, something soft that contradicts the way he's still balls deep inside you. "I was ready to kill you when you landed on my doorstep at that shitty motel, but…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose you."

There's a gap where he trails off, looking into your eyes as you realize that all while you scorned him and loved him, he was going through the same tortuous emotions as you. Those encounters, shooting bullets in each other's directions and painting scars through wounds was all one-sided. Leon knows you genuinely hated him in a past life as he hated you too, wished he was dead in the same way he was so close to putting a bullet through your skull, and yet he's still here.

"I did hate you." You bury your nose into his neck. "I preyed on your downfall for so many nights and loathed that you kept me alive just to prove a point."

"And now?"

You open your eyes, looking past through tears that have started to prick your lash line. Your chest swells with an emotion you haven't felt in a long while, reigniting flames on a piece of cold coal that hasn't felt the kiss of fire for so long. This feeling that has caused you so much conflict before has a name on your heart, your mind, then your tongue.

"Now?" You reach up, brushing bangs away from his moist forehead, and bring him closer like you were telling him a secret. Your lips ghost over his as you answer. "Fuck, I love you, Leon."

That declaration seems to be the breaking point as he squishes you between his body and mattress, sinking his weight onto you as he desperately begins pounding you into the bedsheets. You moan loudly, unbidden as you relish in the feeling of Leon and trailing your fingernails down his back in angry red lines. The pleasure tips you into overdrive, and you almost scream as you feel yourself just beginning to tip over the edge.

“Leon, I,” you stutter and his hips never break stride, seemingly spurred on by the implication of your words hot and heavy in your ear, “I’m close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You choke on your breath as he wedges a hand between your bodies, rubbing furiously at your clit while muffling your sobs with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Cum for me,” he pleads, eyes squeezing shut like you were tormenting him. “Cum on my cock baby, and I’ll cum for you too.”

Your head slams back onto the pillow, gasping and choking for air as you finally crash and that firework explodes outward. Your mind reels as you see white, gushing hotly around Leon who’s still chasing after his own high. You take the overstimulation, tears running freely now as you hold on for dear life he uses you to achieve his own orgasm, his grunts and breathy moans making home inside your memory as the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. You call out his name like a chant–a mantra, sweeter than any prayer you’ve ever had to utter.

When he pulls you in his arms, settles his full weight onto you, and kisses you so desperately like you’d disappear the moment he opened his eyes, you know he’s reached it.

Leon rams his hips so that he drives as far as he could into you, cum shooting white hot ropes and painting your walls white. You choke on your own breath as warmth spreads through your body, addicted already to the feeling of his cum spurting inside. You're mesmerized as you watch as his face pinches into something so beautiful and pretty to watch, and you wish you could ingrain the look of him coming undone into your head permanently.

Nothing but hot pants fill the air as he lifts himself from your frame, hands bracketing either side of your head as he pushes himself up to get a good look at you, blissed out on his cock and almost fucked stupid. He brushes fair from your forehead and kisses you lightly in a deep contrast to the way he had nearly bruised your lips as he came.

You shift and he winces, slamming his hands on your hips to hold you still as he stays inside of you.

"Stop," he breathes out as if it pained him.

"Leon? What are you-"

"Fuck–just please, I need–" he gasps, slightly moist forehead coming to rest on yours, "You're so good, baby. Just let me stay like this for a bit–just a second."

Your emotions take a hit as he begs you to stay despite the oversensitivity combating the need to be as close as possible to you. "Alright," you whisper, though a pressing question comes to the forefront of your mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Why did…Why’d you kiss me?"

He laughs, all gentle and real right from his stomach and it sends shivers down your spine. You want to draw the sight of his laugh lines into your permanent memory. "Of all the things that just happened, that's what you want to know?"

"Mhm," you affirm, having no strength to try and fight him on the matter. He's left you breathless and tired, and frankly, you just want to know what’s on his mind.

"Well, that's a bit of a stupid question." He nudges your chin up with the crook of his index finger and those blue crystalline eyes catch yours to sweep you off your feet again. "I kissed you because I wanted to, sweetheart.”

You breathe, working on keeping it level as he finally slips out of you, mixed fluids leaking out of your spent cunt upon not being plugged anymore. Leon leans back, admiring his work and laughs to himself. His eyes trail up your body and your gazes connect. You find him looking at you, searching for something like he usually does, but this time, he finally seems he found what he’s looking for.

“Did I let you find it?” you ask tiredly.

“Hm?”

“Back at the cafe,” you explain with exhaustion lacing your voice. Leon gets up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, and you hear the sound of running water. When he comes back out, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge that was provided from the hotel and returns to the bedside, running the warm cloth against your oversensitive skin.

“Yeah?” He murmurs to show he’s still listening even as he carefully wipes down the inside of your thighs. “What about it?”

“You said you were looking for something, but I wasn’t letting you find it. Did I do it?”

Leon pauses in his actions, takes a good look at you though you don’t know what’s happening in that complicated head of his. Nonetheless, he smiles and crows feet crinkle his eyes as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did,” he affirms sweetly, then once he deems you clean enough, he says, “You did good, baby.”

The praise goes straight to your head as you try uprighting yourself, but almost miserably failing before Leon catches you. One of his arms curls around your rigid upper back and the other tucks beneath your knees as he easily lifts you and carries you to the pull-out bed that he’s been sleeping on since you got here. Gently, he deposits you on the mattress with the water bottle before beginning to wipe himself down.

You take gentle sips, watching him as he finishes up and joins you at your side on the bed, sinking down in the much cleaner sheets and tossing the fabric over you. Quickly, you fall into place with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and legs intertwined. One of his arms lazily tosses over your waist as he buries his nose into your hair.

Never before has your heart felt so full and alive before, pumping strongly and emotionally just for the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling sleep weigh heavily on your mind. “For everything.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying,” he jokes, hand running cautiously up and down your back. You shudder as he feels along every scar with expert care, but you find it's not as bad as you thought it would be. “We still have a long way ahead of us.”

“We do,” you agree thoughtfully before hesitating. “Do…you feel the same way I do?”

Leon kisses the crown of your head affectionately, polling you tighter and more securely against him. “Oh, I adore you, sweet girl. You’ve got me at your beck and call, I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” you settle down, finally at peace. “You’ll stay?”

He tilts your head up, making you stare into those blue eyes that have carried you through so many years of torture and conflicted love. Leon Kennedy, this masterpiece of a man weighed down by years of his job who has tried to kill you and in turn survived your attempts to slit his throat wide open loves you. Even when you hated him, you couldn’t stay away as if the stars and the universe had destined for you to always be connected.

Maybe this is what it means to be in love–to be devoted to someone that you need then like you need the air to breathe.

“I promise,” Leon says, sleep edging on his voice warmly but still persisting to lay your fears to rest. “You’ll have to kill me to stay away from you, (Y/n). I’m yours, whenever and wherever you need, no matter the time of day. I’m staying for you because I love you.”

What a strange thing it is to be in love. But, perhaps in this moment, where you feel so incredibly warm and rich like a healthy fire with plenty of fuel to go on forever, you decide it’s not so bad.

No longer does your heart stay frozen and bitter from years of misuse, but who would’ve guessed that the man who you swore to hate for the rest of your days would be the one to finally melt it down into a blazing fire of emotion?

Far away, miles away from you and Leon, the blizzard that had forced you under the same roof all those weeks ago dissipates, finally satisfied.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil leon #resident evil fic #resident evil x you #leon kennedy fanfic

340 notes · View notes