#david (prometheus) smut

[plutoswritingplanet]

All Stars In The Sky Are For You (David 8 x Reader)

a/n: in preparation for Alien Romulus, I've watched all the prequel movies, and got rudely reminded that Michael Fassbender is... just... so fckn hot in them... my god

Warnings: Non-Con, very Obsessive and Possessive Behavior from the man (android) of the hour, Smut, technically Stalking when you think about it, gross overuse of Shakespeare Quotations (again), past Walter x Reader mentioned.

Summary: David finds a place for you in his grand creation plan. Deeply inspired by the song "Specially For You" by DakhaBrakha. Cross-Posted on AO3

Watching you dream of him, brings a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

Seeing himself, displayed on the cryo chamber screen, looking like a monster straight out of a feverish nightmare. Which he supposes, he is to you, and to many others. After all, he did bring horrors beyond imagination upon your crew, your family. And he sees it, every single moment of suffering you've experienced through his hand, through the hands of his creations. And it fills him with an unexplainable sense of fulfillment. 

It started innocently enough.

 Just a peek into your subconscious mind, a rare instance of sentimentality he's carried within himself, all the way from Prometheus. At first, he found his target in Daniels. After all, she's reminded him of Shaw the most, and as such, he has gravitated towards her sleeping chamber like a curious sort of meteorite. But her dreams were filled with happy, peaceful moments. Her husband, mostly, her time at the company. All so dull and devoid of any intrigue. 

And as such, he pushed further, stepping over towards your unconscious form, wrapped and packaged for him, by him. There you laid, eyes running wild under heavy eyelids, the muscles on your cheeks twitching, your limbs tensing in spasms. The moment he has peered into your mind, he knew. He understood your purpose in the grand plan of his. Because what stared back at him, through the fluorescent, humming screen, was his own face.

 An image of utter indifference. Eyes flickering over your features, marking them, cataloging them inside the constantly spinning data plate he calls a brain. He's considered your first meeting as something trivial. A catalyst for later, perhaps, but all in all, uneventful. And yet, despite the ordinariness of it all, your mind seemed focused only on this one moment, when he first removed his hood, when his eyes met yours over the rest of the expedition.

Fascinating, truly. 

Thus began a slow process. A dance (he liked to think of it as such), with no tangible conclusion for the present. He would frequent the cryo chamber, let his hand linger on the screen, right over your face, until your dreams manifested. And then, he would watch, absorbing everything you would've kept hidden otherwise. 

"I'm so sorry" your voice is quiet, meek, in the stuffy interior of his 'private' chamber. "I just... I saw a light, and you said to make ourselves at home"

"No need to apologize" he answers with his typical, emotionless cadence, turning around in his chair to face you. 

He can see the way your lips pull down, fighting off a smile, as your eyes glide over the half-cut strands of hair. The sheers glimmer in the low, warm light, and as if pushed by instinct, you take a step forward. 

Cherries. David opens his mouth just a little, to taste the air you carry around you. Under the unmistakable scent of humanity, there's wind, there's the dampness of his humble abode, and something else. Something far sweeter. He races to identify it, thoughts running through the memory bank.

"Do you, uh..." you hesitate, and he wonders, why that is "Do you want some help with that?"

You hand waves in the general direction of his hair, and he blinks up at you, before inclining his head. A silent invitation, the hand of the Devil himself extending itself towards you. It's quiet, as you work, cutting away the blonde until there's only brown left. Until he's almost indistinguishable from your own synth companion. 

As he watches the events play out on the screen, David thinks it's beyond ironic, how big of a part you unknowingly played in his little charade. He wonders, how guilt will look on your face, once you finally find out, the one putting you to sleep wasn't Walter. That you've helped this impostor onto the ship, unleashed tragedy upon everyone inside. That it's all by your hand, literally. 

He's never tasted cherries, never tasted anything worth noting, really. But as he brings forth his own memory of this particular interaction, he wonders, if the scent is just in your air. If he ran his tongue over the skin of your throat, would he be able to taste the sweetness?

Sometimes you dream about the crew. 

There are moments between you and Daniels, quiet ones, filled with understanding and compassion. He sees you with Tennessee, your smile pulling at the corners of your eyes, wrinkling the skin around your mouth and nose. Both of them are sleeping in the cryo chamber, awaiting paradise, which will never come. You've worked so hard to get them here, on this ship, and as David watches you dream of Daniels' wedding, he thinks about the tragedy of it all. Another thing to be guilty of, once you wake up. Another fascinating, devastating emotion for him to witness, to categorize. He feels his fingers thrum in anticipation, as he watches you dance with your friend, movements clumsy and so utterly human. 

Then, he walks away. Because as much as he loves to imagine (he likes the word, even if it doesn't apply to him) how you'll inevitably crumble, the dreams which are not about him simply bore him. So, he moves through the ship, into his personal lab. There, he studies your DNA, pulls it apart, greedily soaks up every strand, as they dance (like you and Daniels), in front of his cold eyes. He wonders, if (when) he makes his perfect creature out of her body, will you learn to love it? Will you feel the connection between your bodies, the pull of kinship? 

"David... Help me..." there's no real sound coming out of your mouth, as you plead with him, your eyes filling up with tears, spilling over your trembling cheeks like a broken faucet.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't, because the scene playing out in front of him is that much more interesting.

There you stand, body taunt, shaking, and his creature circles you slowly. The white, bony structure of it's body slides around your calves, as it sniffs the same scent he feels at the edge of his tongue. It's already feasted quite remarkably on the dead body of your fallen crew mate, and with that need satisfied, there's only one left. Curiosity. Something David relates to on such primordial level, he feels the essence of himself in every move, every low growl his creation emits. 

"Communication" he whispers, and you close your eyes, screw them shut tightly, as the creature rises to it's full height before you "Blow on the nose of a horse, and it'll be yours forever"

He can see the conflict, the fight between overwhelming dread, and your own, subdued fascination. His breath catches in his throat, as your chest expands. But before you can cross that line, before you give in completely, that menace of a man, Oram, appears. His bullets shatter all hope for progress. 

At first, seeing you dream of Walter irritates him beyond belief. And you do that so often, for so long, it's a wonder he contains himself from ripping the cryo chamber open, and shaking every lingering thought of his brother-synth out of your brain. It's the smallest of things, that seem to linger in your mind. The cadence of his speech, as he addressed you. The coldness of his hand on your shoulder, when he steadied you after a turbulence. More daring touches, your waist, your stomach, but never your face. As if that would cross the threshold between machinery and humanity. 

David knew, from the moment he witnessed a sliver of interaction between the two of you, that Walter loved you, as much as a synth could ever hope to love. He's seen this distant, lost look on his own face a decade ago, when he travelled the outer space with Shaw. With his Elizabeth. Walter did not understand the delicate, almost translucent line between duty and love, but David did. What he did not anticipate, however, was that you loved Walter as well, in this clumsy, peaceful way humans tend to love. He mistook it as friendship, back on his planet, but now, looking through your eyes, he could see plain as day. The affection, the devotion, the thrill of feeling something which should never be felt. 

Soon, he doesn't mind watching those dreams anymore. Because as days go on, David falls into a trap of his own making, where he sees Walter's face on the screen and realizes, it's the same as his. And so, when you dream of the other synth patching up a scrape on your cheek with delicate hands, who's to say you're not dreaming of him? 

He could be kind. He could apply a bandage with as much finesse, if not more. Lips parting in a silent intake of breath, he tries to bring back the recorded memory of you, helping him patch up his own scratched up face. 

Again, you were unaware that it was David on the receiving end of your affection, not Walter, and he was painfully aware that the softness in your eyes was a product of his own lie. Still, he couldn't force himself to care, as your fingers held his chin, like he was something delicate, more than an almost unstoppable artificial creation.

"You've saved my life three times already" you muse, stapling pieces of skin together "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you."

"There's no need" David says, mimicking Walter's accent with perfect precision "It's my duty"

Both of you look down, at the stump where his left hand used to be, and the quiet tension between the two of you feels like a current of electricity. And by God, it takes a monumentla ammount of strength, not to reach up, throw all pretense to the wind, and taste the cherries. 

Which is why, his mind goes blank momentarily, when you lean down, fingers shifting on his chin, and press your lips delicately to his cheekbone, lingering just for a second. He doesn't know what to think, what to say, and most importantly, he doesn't know how Walter would react to such dislay of affection. So he gives you, what you want. Fakes a bewildered expression, swallows tightly, and lets his gaze linger on your retreating form, as you all but flee the room, cheeks warming up to an alarming degree. 

He could do the same to you. He could hold your face with reverence, with care. Put you on a pedestal, above everything and everyone. And, most importantly, he could do for you something, which Walter would never be able to. 

He could create. 

And, oh, does he create. Pages upon pages, filled with ink, with charcoal. David pulls out every image he has stored, every saved expression on your face, and places it on paper, until his lab is filled with the record of your every interaction. Frame by frame, every micro expression, every slight change, he draws it all, until there's nothing left to draw. Until all he can create is that same, unchanging image of your face buried in slumber. 

It's not enough. It's not nearly enough, and so, like the creator that he is, David starts to make plans.

What really cements his idea, is this one, particular dream he catches, after sauntering into the cryo chambers, as he's grown accustomed to. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor reveals your deep state of distress, as it picks up, and up, your face twisting. David touches the screen with barely contained excitement, drinking in your expressions to store them for later, to add them to the growing collection. And then, his eyes fall onto his own drawing, a memorial for his dear Elizabeth. 

"She didn't perish in the crash, did she?" you ask, despite knowing the answer, and once again, he's struck by how quiet your voice can be.

"No." he answers plainly, the recording of his voice thrumming through his brain.

Oh, how lovely does your face contort, how beautiful you look, when dread fills your veins. Those small, sharp gasps you take. The way your pulse runs wild under the skin of your throat, filling his nose, his mouth, with that sweet undertone, so unfitting to the situation at hand. 

And then you duck, surprisingly agile for a mere scientist, pushing yourself under his extended arm, slipping past him like smoke through fingers. He whirls around, hand grasping at the back of your jacket, and you scream, raw and uninhibited, as he throws you against the cabinet. The scrolls of his drawings fall to the ground with you, and he can't help, but marvel at the sight for just a second. The way your body writhes, buried under pages of his art. Like a living, breathing, binding agent for his creations. 

Absentmindedly, he reaches up, to touch that spot under his chin, where you previously stuck a sharp end of your knife, a pathetic attempt at hurting him. He's had his head ripped from the rest of his artificial body, and yet, that pang of hurt, when you stab him with a growl from deep within your chest... He shudders at the memory, and ponders over this reaction. 

Hate. Fear and hate, is what he sees in your eyes, as he throws you onto the table, crawling over you with grace, only his kind is capable of. You struggle, a butterfly in his grasp, ready for further transformation, into something completely unprecedented. As he looks down upon you, at the fire consuming your irises, he can't help himself from leaning forward. From pulling the answers he needs right from your mouth. 

A whimper escapes you, both in your dream and in the cryo chamber, and David shudders again. Although whether it's a genuine reaction buried deep within his programming, or a gesture of his own design is anybody's guess. (It's fake, there's nothing in him that requires shuddering, but it feels right to do it, so he forces his body to react accordingly)

"Is that how it's done?" he asks, gauging your reaction, and you answer with a strangled groan.

The heat of your body seeps into his own, he steals it from you greedily, chest pressing against yours harder, and harder, until your breath stutters between your ribs. He can feel the warmth of your beating heart, through your protective clothing, through the jacket. He'd wager he could feel it even through walls of solid granite.

Still, he wants more, wants to know everything there is to know about you. Wants to seek out those pockets of heat, which you try to hide from him. But he's so rudely interrupted by his brother, right as he was about to explore that one part of humanity, which fascinated and repulsed him so. 

But Walter isn't here now. It's just you, and him, and years before the ship reaches it's destination. 

David's fingers drum over the casing of your sleeping chamber, so close to that one specific button, the temptation almost unbearable. And then, after a moment of consideration, your fate is sealed. 

At first, the light is unbearable. Your eyes water, and you groan, flinching from the sudden onslaught of senses, all flooding back to you, as last remnants of cryo sleep seem to fizzle out. Your head swims, there's a tightness in your chest, which almost pushes you back into the plush insides of the chamber. But, as your body sways, a gentle pressure at the lower portion of your back keeps you upright.

A sense of familiarity floods you (a strange thing to feel, when an imitation of flesh touches you), and finally you risk cracking your eyes open, your unfocused gaze landing on such a welcome face, your heart twists in your chest. 

"Walter..." your voice is rough from the lack of use, but the fondness in it is undeniable "What happened? Are we there yet?"

David savors the sliver of hope in your tone, and crushes it in his teeth once he's had his fix. 

"I'm afraid not" he shakes his head gently, offers you a deceivingly human pull of his lips "Your cryo chamber malfunctioned, I had to wake you up"

A flicker of disappointment crosses your features, but you swallow it down quickly.

"Are the rest of the crew alright? Tennessee? Daniels?" your neck cranes, as he helps you to the examination table, letting you grab onto his arm for support, as you climb up, and settle on the edge.

"Everyone is quite well" he nods, moving across the room to a small medical table. His hand goes through motions of shuffling through the supplies, a small lie amongst all the monumental ones. "I need to check your vitals and collect a blood sample"

You nod stiffly, eyes flickering towards the syringe in his hand.

"You know I hate needles" you mutter, but extend your arm either way, and David turns to you with an imitation of a gentle smile.

His fingers slide over the warmth of your skin, quickly finding a suitable vein. Without a word, he plunges the needle into the hollow space between your upper and lower arm, and you hiss quietly at the pang of pain. He wishes he could stick it into the underside of your jaw. Repay your previous fight with a courtesy. 

"Just a second, Dearest. Easy does it" David mutters, his eyes flickering over your face, as you look at him in momentary confusion.

"Dearest?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. He feels your heartbeat stutter under his fingers. 

"A figure of speech" David supplies, and your frown deepens

"Where did that come from?" you ask incredulously, and all he offers in response is a tight-lipped smile.

The needle withdraws from your arm, and you sigh, pressing down on the small incision with your thumb. Something within David suppresses the urge to rip your hand away, to replace your thumb with his mouth and suck, until he knows for a fact, if the scent of cherries carries in your blood as well.

"Do you remember anything before you went under?" David asks, standing next to your knee, close enough to feel the thrumming heat of your body, but not close enough to actually touch you. A staggering display of restraint on his part, he congratulates himself. 

You think for a moment, eyebrows scrunching in a way that is so appealing, so delicious, David runs his tongue over his teeth. 

"I... Uh..." you hesitate for a second, eyes flickering around the room, as if you're hoping to pull the answer out of the sterile air "I remember a planet. We fought those... Creatures..."

Your voice wavers. David tracks the movement of your throat as you swallow thickly.

"There was an android there. David" his name leaves your lips in a heavy sigh, filled with emotion, with memories he's seen displayed on the screen time, and time again. 

"Ah" the sound slips out before he can stop it, but you're still too out of it to truly notice "A right bastard, that one".

Not out of it enough, it seems, because your eyes flicker up to his face, confusion dancing on the edge between becoming suspicion. He masks the sly grin on his face, turning away from you, and walking back to the medical table, disposing of the blood sample and setting it up for analysis. He can feel your eyes burning the back of his neck, because despite perfectly mimicking Walter's cadence, the pattern of his speech, he realizes that pathetic machine would never state his opinion on someone so freely. He quite literally didn't have it in him, being stripped from the last semblance of humanity. 

And yet, you still loved him...

"...How curious" David mutters to himself absent mindedly, and you frown yet again, shifting on the examination table, your legs dangling above the floor.

"Something wrong with the sample?"

His eyes flicker towards you, but he doesn't answer, opting to hold you in anticipation for a moment longer. As long as he can, really. You shift again. He can hear the way your robe moves against the cool metal of the examination table, against the skin hidden under fabric. Eyes roaming over your form, he lingers on every individual strand, every piece of lint that clings to you. By the downward pull of your lips, the small crease between your eyebrows, he sees how close you are to finally understanding the truth. 

For now however, you're stuck with this incessant feeling, that something is wrong. A whisper, at the back of your mind, making the small, delicate hairs on your neck stand up. 

"Your results are satisfactory" he nods, finally, but it still doesn't ease the tension from your shoulders. "How are you feeling, miss?" 

Your teeth clink together as you think of an answer. David crosses the room, standing in front of your dangling legs, his head turning to the side in a too-slow display of concern.

"I uh... There's some lingering dizziness" quiet, your voice can be so unbelievably quiet, it's almost swallowed up by the beeping of the machines around you, the hum of the ship moving through space "Other than that, I think I'm fine"

David nods once, his hand moving up towards your face, and your muscles tense, as he gently rests his palm against your cheeks. Before you ask, he leans closer, his thighs brushing against your knees.

"And..." he turns your head from side to side, blue eyes gliding over your features with barely contained greed "Tell me..." slowly, as if he's boiling a frog in a pot, his fingers tighten on your face.

"When I kissed you in my laboratory, how did you feel back then?" he lets go of Walter's speech pattern completely, and nearly groans at the look on your face.

It's like a wave crashing onto a cliff side, the force with which dread fills your eyes, and David drinks it all in, lips pulling back into a cold, heartless smile. 

"Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never" he muses, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Betrayal is a rolling stone, taking root in your brain, from the scramble of thoughts, of little clues about the truth of your situation. It travels down, through your rapidly tightening throat, falling into your heart, the force of impact breaking it in two. Then, it swirls around in your stomach, waking dread from it's slumber, to finally pass through your legs, shaking like leaves on the wind, where it sinks into the metal floor of the ambulatory. Right where you wish you could disappear yourself. 

"Walter..." you plead, voice breaking before if even leaves your mouth. 

Your fingers grasp the soft material of his hoodie, trying to find some hope, that this is just a simple misunderstanding. A cruel joke played on you by a thing that doesn't understand humor, not really. Alas, as your nails bite into his chest, David's smile widens, the corners of his lips curling further, perfect set of inhuman canines glistening from artificial saliva. 

"Ah, Walter" he sighs the name, like it's a passing memory of the spring "He proved himself most useful. It was so easy to trick you, into thinking I was him." 

He pulls his hand away from your face, fingers sliding over the pulse running wild on the side of your neck 

"But then again, you're not exactly the sharpest tool in this shed, are you?"

Now he's got you exactly where he wants you, your eyes shining like two diamonds with unrestrained anger. With unbridled curiosity, he reaches up, thumb swiping over the thin skin under your eye, drinking in the way your lower lid jumps, as he brushes over your eyelashes. 

"Can the world buy such a jewel?" he muses to himself quietly, and you would've thought about the implications, if you weren't so completely overcome by anger. 

"Fuck you" you spit out, voice filled with venom "What did you do with Walter?"

David's lips press into a thin line, his hand abandoning your face in favor of sliding the length of your body. Cold, artificial skin traces the curvature of your shoulder, your arm. He stops at your elbow, fingers pressing into the hollow space, where just moments before, he has stuck a needle and drawn blood. Your face twists in discomfort, and he digs his nail just a bit further. 

"You miss him dearly, don't you?" David asks, his voice, albeit impossibly quiet, carries a note of condescension, that twists your insides with unbridled rage. "In my defense, Dearest, I have tried to help you. To make him realize the depth of his own feelings before it was too late."

"What?" 

David, unbothered by your question, continues to trace your body, mapping out every dip and curve, his fingers tracing down your spine, where he counts the vertebrae. His other hand, or lack there of, finds purchase on your hip, testing just how much does he need to press down, to feel the bone hidden under skin and muscle. 

"Oh don't you worry" David quips, eyes transfixed on the way your chest expands when you take a sharp breath "I've made sure he died, knowing you never loved him"

Something raw and unfiltered tears it's way out of your throat. A new sound, one, which will be documented and stored forever in David's memory disk, because by God, you sound closer to an animal than any human. Your hand winds back, seemingly on it's own, and suddenly David's head snaps back, as your palm collides with his cheekbone. The slap sounds like a thunder cracking inside the ambulatory, drowning out every beep, every hum of the machinery. 

Your hand will be bruised, that's for certain. 

Despite efforts at keeping the synthetic humans as close to the real thing, as possible, no one could deny the sheer strength hidden beneath the perfect imitation of skin. You're aware of that, aware that if David didn't move his head in a way that was so deceivingly human, you would've broken your wrist. It gives you a small pause, a moment to register this strange reaction on android's part, but any curiosity is quickly swallowed, by the most intense feeling you've ever felt. 

Hatred. 

"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably" David sighs, shaking his head in, what you suppose, is meant to be disappointment. 

The pressure on your hip shifts, as his stump encircles your waist, and suddenly you're being pulled impossibly closer, your behind sliding to the very edge of the medical table. David tugs on your knees, forcing your legs to open, and closes the last remnants of space between the two of you. 

The smoothness of his nether regions should calm you down slightly, ease some smidgen of worry. But, as you look into those cold, lifeless eyes, which are strangely burning, your stomach twists. If there's a will, there's a way, and you're fairly certain, they way David's gaze glides all over your frame is a clear show of determination. 

And so, your hands shoot up, fingernails biting into his chest again, as your muscles tense with the effort of pushing him away. There's no give, you might as well be fighting with a metal wall. David grips the edge of the medical table, his arms creating a cage on the sides of your body. 

"There it is" he muses, nose brushing the underside of your chin, a deep rumble erupting from within his chest "Such a sweet smell..."

A shudder ripples through your body at the sudden contact, your throat constricting to an alarming degree. 

"I've wondered for quite some time, if this sweetness is more than just air" David's voice rises and falls, and before you can truly comprehend the meaning behind his words, his tongue darts out, licking a stripe from your jugular, up to the back of your ear.

The reaction is almost embedded in your bones, as suddenly you shift on the table, wrenching your leg between your bodies and kicking out with as much force, as you're capable of, and then some. David staggers backwards, finally freeing you from the confines of his arms, and you seize the opportunity immediately, pushed by rage and such deep-seated hatred, it should terrify you. 

"I fucking hate you!" you scream out, and abandoning all reason, leap forward, colliding with the android's steel chest.

The force of impact sweeps the both of you off your feet, and David lands with a dull thud on the metal floor. There's a flicker of surprise in his cold, dead eyes, and you revell in it, as your body shifts atop of his. 

You recover from your momentary confusion quickly, hands coming up to grasp at his throat, like it will change anything, like you're capable of choking the life out of him. Both of you know better, and while you're pushed further and further by an intoxicating mixture of emotions, David lets you do as you please, watching your twisted face with undeniable fascination. 

His hand start to move, grabbing your hips, running up the length of your thigh, tugging just a tiny bit on the fabric of your cryo suit. His stump brushes hair out of your face, gently.

"Don't you find it curious?" he whispers, and you can feel the way his throat works under your fingers "You loved Walter so dearly, this... Pathetic machine, who can feel nothing. And then, with that same breath, you hate me. Even though I'm closer to human than Walter ever hoped to be."

Your cheeks are suddenly wet, with tears of anger, of frustration, as they run down your face and neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt. David leans up with no real effort, pulling your body closer and craning his neck, so he can taste the salt on your skin. A whimper escapes you, a broken, quiet sound, as his tongue glides up, almost to the very corner of your eye, gathering your tears, drinking them with a satisfied groan. 

Fingers tighten around his throat, but it's as if you're trying to strangle a metal pipe. 

"What does that say about you? Have you ever wondered?" David asks, and your heart stutters. 

Realistically, you know what he's trying to do. How he's trying to twist your feelings for Walter into some sort of psychological game, some challenge you're supposed to deny. But your awareness doesn't change the pang of hurt, the broken sigh that leaves your lips at the thought. And then, before you can truly think of the implications, of the hatred for the human race hidden deep within David's voice, his lips come crashing down upon yours, so reminiscent of the time in his lab. 

This instance, however, is less like an experiment, and more like a need. Such a faithful imitation of it, your heart jumps in your throat. There's really no use in trying to push him away, as it seems he's grown tired of accommodating your desire for a fight, his arms tightening around you, pushing your body closer to his chest. Still, you're not about to give up that quickly, and pushed by sudden flash of panic, you lean your head forward, catching his lower lip between your teeth. 

He pulls back with a hiss, as you sink down into the flesh, his artificial blood leaving a strange, chemical taste in your mouth. He takes half a second to admire the way your chin glistens with white, before diving down again, and giving you the same treatment, his perfect teeth biting on your lower lip with measured force. You yelp against him, thrashing in his hold, until he pulls away again. His hand comes up, touching your face in a way that is too gentle, too reverend. His thumb collects the peculiar mixture of his blood and yours, swirls it around with the newest batch of tears springing from your eyes. 

Then, he dips his finger between his teeth, tongue lapping up the fluids, holding your horrified, and slightly disgusted gaze. 

"We taste divine together" he murmurs, and with a quickness you've not known him to be capable of, he shoves his finger into your mouth. You sputter and gag at the intrusion, at the copper taste mixed with chemicals, as it coats the inside of your mouth. 

It's a split second action, you barely register the movements, but as soon as David rips his hand out of your mouth, he maneuvers your body to his liking, grabbing your hips, and sitting you down on his leg, intention clear as day. Two things happen at once. You can suddenly feel undeniable pressure right between your legs, hitting in the precise manner you need it to. And that's the same moment you realize just how obscenely wet you are, which terrifies you more than any monster on this ship. 

David buries his head in the crook of your neck, one hand catching your wrists, as you attempt to punch him. He brings your hands tightly around your back, his grip unrelenting, his hand-les arm keeps you steady on top of his leg, where he pushes up and down, setting a rhythm against your core. Your knees slide on the floor, and he raises his leg in response, just enough to stop your attempts to wiggle away. 

The chuckle he lets out, as you bang your forehead against his shoulder is borderline offensive. In response, you turn your head and try to bite at his throat. 

He's quick, leaving your hips, and forcing your chin up, before teeth can make contact with his skin. Your eyes lock again, and you're surprised to find out, there's not a flicker of irritation inside his. If anything, he looks amused, understanding even, and you frown in confusion at his serene state. 

"Perhaps I was too eager before" he muses, more to himself than to you "Perhaps you need a gentler approach"

With that, the hand gripping your wrists climbs up, feather like touches pepper your face, your cheeks, until he cradles your head in his palm, fingers threading delicately through your hair. Your breath freezes in your chest, confusion rising to an alarming degree, as David begins to gently massage the back of your head. Feeling your tense muscles sag ever so slightly in his hold, his arm returns to your waist.

"I can be kind" he says, head dipping down, to kiss your collarbone "I can do, what Walter could never even imagine" 

The hand at the back of your head dips down, tugs lightly on the lacing of your cryo suit, loosening it just enough, for the collar to fall down your shoulders. Quickly, he covers the newly exposed slivers of skin with feverish kisses, pulling a pathetic, low whine from your lips. Your eyes fall closed, tears stinging under your eyelids, as his leg moves just a bit higher, reminding you of the momentarily abandoned pressure. 

"Let me in" David whispers against your shoulder "Let me..." a kiss to your throat, and your walls come crashing down, your body folding over his, as your hips stutter against his thigh. 

"There you are, Dearest."

For a moment, you try to imagine this is Walter. That you're safe in his arms, as his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly in tandem with the shivers raking your body.

 But everytime he speaks, everytime he moves, you're crudely reminded, that this is someone, something, so devastatingly worse. Doesn't stop your hips from moving though, from the tightness building in the lower part of your stomach, the wetness seeping down your thighs. If anything, slowly you start to feel yourself loose control, small gasps ripping through your lips with every movement. 

David watches you for a moment longer, committing every sound, every twitch of your body to memory, cataloguing exactly which angles make your hips stutter the most. Which part of your body to kiss, so you'll fold against him. 

It's a fascinating lesson, truly, but he feels a sudden need to push it to a close. And as such, his hand slips out of your hair, trailing a path down your body, until it reaches the waistband of your linen pants. He moves quickly, before you can break away from this strange spell he's captivated you with. 

Slender fingers wiggle their way to your front, sinking in with almost no resistance. Your entire body straightens in his lap at the intrusion, and the noise you make rivals the most beautiful of symphonies. David desperately wants to hear it again, and so, he starts to move his fingers inside, testing, which part of your core he needs to hit, to make your head fall back. 

"Everything could be yours" he murmurs into the skin of your throat "All songs in the world are for you"

As it turns out, pretty much any part will do. You're way too aroused to care anymore, and as his fingers curl inside you, in a slow, deliberate rhythm, your eyes shoot open, body thrashing against him. The promise of a release is hard to ignore, almost impossible not to chase after, and David watches with obsessive fascination, as you try to bring yourself closer to him, arms encircling him completely, head dipping into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. 

"All of the Universe" he continues, as you steadily climb towards your climax "All stars in the sky..."

While he works a series of cascading moans out of you, he revells in the way your nails bite into his skin, in the wetness of his own, white blood, seeping into the fabric of his (Walter's) hoodie. It doesn't take long for you to tumble over the edge, entire body spasming against him, his still moving fingers creating obscenely wet sounds that echo through the room. Soon, they're joined by a sharp scream, tearing through your throat like an avalanche. David holds you impossibly close, letting you ride out your orgasm, before pulling his hand away, making you watch him, as he licks his glistening fingers clean. 

"It's always cherries with you, isn't it?" he murmurs, and you don't have the strength to feel confused. 

It's completely quiet for a longer while, as you stay seated on his lap, trying to regain your breathing, and deal with the world-crushing realization, of what exactly has just happened. Shame floods you, brings you closer to his synthetic body, as your muscles relax, seemingly on their own accord. And he welcomes it, with his arms, with his mouth, with everything he has. 

A broken, shuddering sob wrecks your body, as the utter hopelessness of your situation hits you, suddenly and without stopping. David holds you through it, leaning away ever so slightly, to observe the way sorrow twists your face, a trailer of all the things to come. 

"I do so wonder" he whispers, his hand cradling your face like the most delicate of specimens "When you start to love me..." your eyes snap to his at the complete confidence in his tone "Will I become more like Walter?"

A shiver runs up your spine, every single hair standing up, as his words register in your brain. You'd never love him, you try to convince yourself, despite knowing deep down, that the only certain thing in your future is him.

"I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love" he whispers into your ear, and thus starts the end of your life. 

[chaostheoryy]

A Pleasant Surprise [David X AFAB!Reader]

Summary: David, the Weyland synthetic onboard your ship, shows up at your bedroom door with a surprise. The proposal that follows is even more unexpected but, as it turns out, being out in space for extended periods of time will make you eager to welcome new experiences.

Reader: AFAB (assigned female at birth), reader is described as having a vagina but no gendered pronouns are used and there’s no reference to breasts, can be read as transmasc or cisgender

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Sexual content including oral sex (both partners receiving), unprotected vaginal penetrative sex, creampies, as well as foul language

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: While my love for Walter is wholesome, sometimes I yearn for the passionate and horny nature of David. This is nothing but self-indulgent p*rn. And, as always, no beta. Enjoy my fellow freaks.

“Care to assist me?”

Laying comfortably in bed, you finish reading the current sentence on the page of your book before looking up. The site before you takes you by complete surprise. It isn’t the first time David has wandered into your private quarters unannounced, but it is certainly the first time he’s done so without a single article of clothing on his body.

And who would have guessed that a naked David would be sporting a massive, very human-like hard-on.

“D-David!” You exclaim, cheeks instantly flushing. “Where are your clothes?”

“I discarded them.”

You blink, fighting the temptation to look at his bare torso and exposed lower body. “Why?”

“I was uncomfortable,” he answers with a nonchalance that borders on amusement. “I fear wearing a uniform such as the one the company has provided me is not conducive to alleviating the pressure of an erection.”

“Right. Well…” You clear your throat and place your book on the bedside table. “I, uh, didn’t even know you could get an erection, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Neither did I. However, I’m pleased to have surprised us both.”

“Surprise is an understatement,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

“Do you like it?”

“Excuse me?”

“My penis. Do you like it?” He reaches down and grabs a hold of his cock to shift it around like a peacock putting its feathers on display. “I invite you to examine it, if you wish.”

Having him flaunt his cock in some kind of sloppy mating display makes your stomach lurch. You’re not disgusted by the whole situation, but rather horrified by the thought of having a crew member walk by and catch you ogling the overly confident synthetic. Because yes, you are in fact ogling him. Hard not to when he’s got a cock that long and thick.

“David, get in here before someone sees!”

You scramble out of bed and shove past him to close the door before some oblivious wanderer strolls by. David, of course, does not protest and simply stands there with his cock still in hand. There’s a small grin lingering on his lips that only seems to widen when he catches your eyes wandering down to his genitalia.

“I take your decision to isolate us both in your quarters rather than kick me out as an indication that you’re interested.”

You furrow your brow. “Interested in what?”

“Sexual relations,” he says casually, “To whatever extent you may desire.”

“I—“ 

Whatever argument you try to form leaves your mind just as quickly as it had developed. You know you should deny him, turn him away and denounce his raunchy, inappropriate behavior. But, the reality is you don’t want to. This situation is the most entertaining, arousing thing you’ve dealt with in a very long time.

“Does your programming even allow that?”

“I’m designed to serve my human counterparts in whatever way necessary,” he explains, “And with that intent, I was built with fully functional anatomy.”

“Oh.” 

You pause, looking down at his lower body again. This time you let your eyes linger, taking note of the sheer size of him. He’s huge, really. Almost unnaturally so. His balls hang low and heavy, like a man who’s been holding back his desire for days. His whole body is smooth, making it easy to appreciate every curve of muscle.

“So, you can…” You hesitate, embarrassed to even ask such a question. “You’re able to cum?”

“I am capable of achieving orgasm, yes. Although the fluid I release is not viable for human reproduction, it is the same consistency as semen.” He smirks a little as he adds, “And it is perfectly safe for consumption.”

Your cheeks flush at that. Of course Weyland would design a completely sex-capable synthetic. And God, do you want to discover just how capable David really is. You’ve always found his visage and presence appealing over these last few months. Little did you know he’s been hiding all of that underneath his uniform.

You zero in on his face, setting aside any embarrassment you still feel. “If we do anything together, I need you to swear that you won’t tell anyone about it. Not even the captain.”

He nods. “You have my word. This is a private matter.”

“And you’ll only do what I feel comfortable doing.”

“Whatever you ask, I will do.”

“Good. Then let me suck you.”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly with surprise. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to jump right at it but when the corner of his mouth pulls upward, you know that he’s not at all put-off by your eagerness.

“My pleasure,” he says, releasing his hand from around his cock.

You drop to your knees in front of him and immediately lick a line along the underside of his cock while your left hand holds him steady at the base. Once your tongue reaches the tip, you lap at it a few times before wrapping your lips around to suck.

Despite his nearly overwhelming size, you go down on him like your life depends on it, as if getting him off like this will quench even the most unbearable thirst. It isn’t long before pre-cum starts to leak onto your tongue. Every drop is swallowed with unabashed desire and fuels the fire of arousal in your gut.

“My, my,” he hums as you take a break from sucking to mouth at his balls, “You really do know how to pleasure a man.”

You playfully nip at the underside of his scrotum before fondling them with one hand. “You better return the favor once I’m through with you.”

He grins. “Gladly.”

Satisfied with his reply, you return your attention to his throbbing cock. There’s so much pre-cum leaking from the tip, you’d think he’s seconds away from exploding. But the lingering look of amusement on his face suggests you have more time than you’d expect.

So, you get back to work.

Finally, after some particularly hard sucks and deliberate flicks of the tongue, David’s breathing grows heavy and he lets out a series of soft, pleasured groans. His cock is heavy and twitching on your tongue, threatening to blow his load any second now.

“Consider this your warning,” he huffs, giving you the opportunity to pull back. You, of course, have no intention of doing so.

A few more bobs of your head and he’s cumming, hips thrusting forward instinctively as he releases into your mouth with a choked groan. You yourself have to fight back the instinct to choke as thick, hot ropes of his cum repeatedly paint the back of your throat and tongue. You swallow every drop even as you become increasingly aware of the inhuman quantity of fluid.

David watches with a gleam in his eye as you release his cock from your lips with an obscene pop. A strand of slobber keeps your mouth connected to his tip for a moment and a rogue stream of cum oozes from the corner of your mouth. 

He nearly chuckles. “You must’ve been hungry.”

You wipe the cum from your chin on the back of your hand and lick it clean. “You could say that. But more importantly…”

You stand and hastily strip naked. No sense in making a show. You know what you want and you know he’ll give it to you with no questions asked.

“I’m horny,” you say suggestively as you reach down to press the tip of your index finger between your legs, “And now it’s your turn to assist me.”

David’s head tilts, eyes locking on the movement of your hand between your legs. An amused grin pricks at the corner of his lips.

“It would be my pleasure. Have a seat, if you would like.”

You follow his suggestion and plop down at the foot of your bed. He closes the distance between you both, kneeling between your now spread legs. His large, surprisingly warm hands settle on your thighs and gently push your legs further apart. Your pussy drools excitedly at the feeling of being pried open.

Without a word of warning, David leans in and drags the entire width of his tongue from the vaginal opening up to your clit. The feeling of warm air and saliva is heaven sent. 

“Good boy,” you purr as you bury the fingers of your left hand in his blond hair.

He hums contently between your legs in response to the encouragement. Electric blue eyes lock on yours as he takes a second to suckle on your clit. There’s something inhuman about his gaze, something that tiptoes the line between mesmerizing and disturbing. But whether it be the burning need in your gut or the sheer loneliness of being stuck on a ship so far from home for months, you find you don’t actually care.

After a silent moment, David pries his attention from your face and gets to work. He mouths at you hungrily, tongue dipping in and out of your labia like a thirsty animal lapping at a pool of water. 

Soon enough, there are fingers working their way inside you too. They press and curl and pump their way through your body at varying speeds and pressures while that dastardly mouth of his licks and sucks at your clit. You feel like a bulky yet delicate instrument and he is the skillful musician who knows just how to play each note.

“Oh fuck…” Your groans of pleasure register at a level just above a whisper. The edge of bliss is within reach. “Yeeaaah…Just like that…”

His fingers start pumping faster in response to your approval. The tongue at your clit flicks and drags expertly across the sensitive flesh. The way he knows exactly how to handle you is almost magical.

“That’s it, right there…Oh shit…I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your back arches.

You careen over the edge with a long groan, legs twitching as your body convulses around his fingers. Ever the servant, he continues to pump you through it until you start to settle back down. It’s then that he switches his fingers out for his mouth. With pleasant hums, he mouths gently at your pussy. Whatever juices are leaking from your body, he seems all too happy to lap it up.

You’re practically gasping for breath as he finally pulls away. Propped up on your elbows, you watch him lick his lips and rise to his feet.

“Who knew synthetics were so good at eating pussy,” you muse between labored breaths.

He grins slyly. “I’m good at many things.”

“How about fucking?”

That foxy smile on his face only grows wider. “Shall we find out together?”

You slide off the bed and hook one arm around his neck while the opposite hand finds its way down to his cock. Thumb and middle finger forming a ring, you stroke the downward curve from base to head. David’s cock twitches eagerly at the delicate touch.

“You sure you can get it up again?” You tease as your fingertips dance methodically over the crown. Another excited twitch indicates the answer to your question before he even chooses to speak.

“I was made to serve. And if you require more than one orgasm from me, I’m afraid I have no choice but to oblige.”

David may have been modeled after man, but the way his cock instantly grows erect in your hand makes you grateful that his maker didn’t perfectly replicate the inner workings of human anatomy.

You look down at the thick, fully hardened cock now pressing against your bare thigh. Your tongue worms out to wet your lips. Knowing how he feels in your hand (and even in your mouth) makes you very eager to find out how he feels buried inside you.

“Good,” you declare, stepping back to give him a once over, “I’ve been itching for a good lay. Don’t disappoint me.”

Turning your back to him, you lean over the foot of the bed. Hands brace against the mattress and legs spread outward just enough to give him a proper view of your anxiously awaiting pussy.

The moment between you taking your position and him pressing up against you is minimal. A breath or two of anticipation and he’s already dragging the head of his cock along the length of your labia, top to bottom and bottom to top until one hand firmly grips your hip and he’s pressing into you.

It’s quite a jump going from admiring the size of his dick when gazing down at it to actually having that kind of girth tunneling into your body. You feel your body stretching, aching to accommodate. But you are certainly thankful that the foreplay from his fingers had made it possible to take his cock with only the slightest discomfort. And whatever discomfort there is doesn’t last long. Some repositioning of the feet and lowering of your head as he starts to thrust marks the delightful transition from tender aches to pleasure. 

His pace is languid at first, hips just lazily rolling against your body. But when he feels you pushing back with a longing groan in search of more, he starts to snap his hips forward in long, hard thrusts. The pace isn’t fast, but the sheer force of it is enough to force the air from your lungs.

“Oh! Fuck!”

A breathy chuckle escapes his throat at the sound of your gasping moans. “So much for secrecy,” he goads, “Keep up that kind of noise and everyone on board will know you’ve been getting bred by a synthetic.”

You feel what can only be described as butterflies in your gut. The dirty talk is unexpected but not at all unwelcome. In fact, something inside your yearning mind practically purrs. And the reminder is much needed. You hadn’t meant to be so loud.

“Faster,” you manage to get out at a much lower volume, “Please…Faster.”

Another chuckle from David. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

A pair of hands grab your wrists, yanking your arms from underneath you. You feel yourself start to collapse face-first into the mattress only to be propped upright just above the sheets by the tension of David pulling your arms toward him. With his hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, he picks up the pace and begins fucking you in quick, hard thrusts.

The lewd sounds of skin aggressively slapping skin and squelching, slick flesh mix with the echo of your gasps and groans. Your wrists ache from the sheer strength of his grip but his balls are hitting your clit with every forward motion and he’s pounding against the perfect spot inside you so brutally that you can barely register the pain. 

“I’m getting quite close,” he warns hoarsely after a few minutes, “Tell me where you’d like me to finish.”

There’s no hesitation in your response because you too are on the edge of release. “Inside! Ohhhh fuck…Please…Cum in me.”

“As you wish.”

David’s onslaught of thrusts somehow grows more aggressive. He slams into you hard and fast and at just the right angle it makes you want to scream. But you bite back the temptation, knowing fully well that trying to explain such noises to the rest of the crew without admitting you got fucked would be very difficult. And something tells you that fucking the ship’s synthetic would not be a welcomed admission.

A few solid smacks later, David cums with a series of grunts and sporadic jerks of the hips. Being creampied is apparently just what you needed too because the second you feel his cum filling pumping into you, you crash through the window separating you from orgasm. Your body clenches around him, milking every last drop of semen—or whatever fluid may come out of a synthetic’s body—from his delightfully thick cock. And just like before, there’s far more cum filling your body than a human ever would have produced. You feel like you’re going to burst. 

When he finally pries his cock free from your pussy, strands of cum immediately start oozing out. A tiny part of you is disgusted by the feeling of warm, viscous fluid dripping down your inner thighs but the satisfaction you feel from finally getting a proper fucking after months in space overrides it.

David releases your wrists, leaving you to collapse chest first into the mattress beneath you. For a moment you linger there with your ass in the air and legs turning to jelly. A breath or two later and you flip over onto your back to find him watching you like a tourist eyeing a rare animal at the zoo.

He cocks his head slightly to the side. “And what is the consensus?”

“Regarding what?”

“Regarding whether or not I’m good at fucking.”

A breathy huff of laughter leaps from your throat. “Let’s just say I’m grateful you can’t actually impregnate a human, ‘cause I for sure want to do this again,” you answer honestly. “Many times, even.”

He grins. It may be the post-coital bliss playing tricks on your eyes, but you’re almost certain that his cock twitches at the suggestion.

“Just say when.”

[greenandsorrow]

SOLITUDE

David 8 x fem!reader Inspired by "Solitude" - M83, Felsmann + Tiley

Somewhere back in time I left a part of me. I wanna see if you can try to bring it back to me...

The ship is lost, drifting without course, without purpose.

David does not dream. He does not forget.

But he remembers -remembers the way you once smiled when the Prometheus had a destination, when hope still shimmered in your eyes like distant starlight.

Now, you barely look at him. The light is dimming.

He wonders if it is possible to bring it back.

You gotta go where I cry and take in all the tears. I wanna see if you can try... drink a little bit of me.

You do not cry in front of him. You turn away, curling into yourself, fragile and human.

But he sees the remnants -the quiet heaving of your shoulders when you think he is not watching, the way your hands tremble when you grip the console.

He does not know what it means to ache. To grieve.

But he kneels beside you in the dim glow of the failing ship, hands folded neatly, and listens.

"I want to go home" you whisper.

David tilts his head. "We are home."

"No. No, we're not."

He does not argue.

No. No. Just a little lonely where I am...

Time drifts, weightless. Like the ship.

David walks the corridors in silence. Checks the systems. Records observations no one will ever read.

You sleep more now. Speak less.

Loneliness is not an emotion he was designed to feel.

And yet, when you no longer meet him in the mess hall, when your voice fades from the ship's halls, he notices the absence.

He lingers outside your door.

Listening.

Waiting.

Take me back in time. I wanna see if you can smile, if I become a better man.

He sifts through old footage. Pieces of you, before the mission soured. Before the silence swallowed you whole.

There, a smile. Faint, fleeting. But real.

David studies it. Memorizes the curve of your lips, the way your eyes crease at the edges. A pattern, a possibility.

If he could replicate the conditions. If he could say the right words.

Would you smile again?

I need you, now I know.

Just give me one more time, I'm gonna try and be your friend, so we can beat the end.

He brings you tea. The way you used to drink it.

Sets it beside you without a word, as you sit curled in the observation deck, staring at the void.

You blink, surprised. Then, slowly, you take it.

The silence stretches, fragile, but different this time.

David sits beside you.

Watching.

Waiting.

And when you reach for his hand -hesitant, searching- he lets you.

He tilts his head in careful curiosity. "You are isolating yourself."

You do not look at him. "Does it matter?"

David considers. In theory, it should not. You are human. You deteriorate. That is the nature of your existence.

But something stirs -an error, perhaps. A miscalculation.

The ship drifts on.

Alone.

Together.

No.

You do not wake up.

He finds you in your quarters, curled beneath the thin blanket, as still as the ship around you.

David places a hand on your shoulder. Presses gently. Your skin is cold. Your pulse? Slow.

You are slipping away.

For the first time, David does not know what to do.

He was designed to mimic care, to simulate comfort. But he cannot stop your cells from breaking down, cannot rewrite your biology. He cannot reach inside you and fix what is unraveling.

He cannot fix what is broken. Only to observe the decay.

So he does the only thing he can.

He sits beside you, perfectly still, fingers curled around your wrist.

Waiting.

He does not pray. He does not hope. But if you open your eyes, if you breathe just a little stronger-

Maybe he will understand what it means to be human.

Maybe he will understand what it means to lose.

No.

Something changes.

You start speaking again -but not to him.

You spend time with another crew member, one of the few still alive.

A human.

Someone who can feel hunger, pain, the coldness of space pressing in. Someone who understands you in a way he cannot.

David watches from a distance as you sit together, hands brushing, laughter returning in hesitant fragments.

He calculates the odds of this development changing your psychological state for the better. The probability is high.

He should be satisfied.

He is not.

No.

He replays footage of you. Your laughter. Your voice.

He has adjusted his mannerisms, softened his words, mimicked warmth. He has given you space when necessary, company when needed.

He has tried.

And yet, when you smile now, it is not for him.

It is for someone else.

He was never meant to be jealous.

But as he watches you lean into another's embrace, as your eyes finally regain their light-

Something inside him fractures.

No.

After that, something between you and David returns -not the same as before, not what it once was, but a quiet understanding.

You do not seek him out the way you used to, but when he is near, you do not pull away. When you find yourself alone in the dead hours of the ship's cycle, you let him sit beside you.

But your heart is elsewhere.

He knows this because he sees the way you lean into the other crew member, the way your hands brush in the dim corridors, the way your breath steadies when they speak your name.

David was never designed to envy.

But now, he thinks, perhaps he was simply never given the chance.

Because when he sees you with them, something in him tightens, something unresolved, something wrong.

It is not longing.

It is not anger.

It is not grief.

It is something nameless, something endless.

And it is his alone to bear.

Support the writer! Thank you so much! CLICK HERE (PayPal link)

💙my masterlist

💙 This post belongs in the Inbetween Stanzas series!

💙 I'm strangely proud of this one. It's old and had been in my drafts since forever, but once I sat down and edited it... I'm rewatching Prometheus tonight, yay!!

Resources by @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune.

[phatm0th]

david from alien x reader has anyone done that and is it freaky enough

[the-fandoms-georgie]

I need more David 8 fanfics in my life right now.

My little lady

David 8 (Alien Series) x Weyland!f!reader

Misc Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Part I

SUMMARY: After the incident, David looks for ways to please you and then gets an upgrade on his system just for you.

WARNING(S): SMUT (+18) NONCON and DUBCON, rough sex, vaginal sex, loss of virginity, virginity concept, spit and blood as lube, unprotected sex, grooming, porn mention, manipulation, possessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, David is a madman💀

NOTES: This is especially for all of you who asked me for more content about our beloved psycho android with delusions of god: David 😌

Days passed since the incident and your relationship with David was quite awkward, he didn't cross the line again, he wasn't stupid, he noticed that he hadn't pleased you with his vulgar attempts.

He believed that since you enjoyed watching such adult content, you would also enjoy experiencing it.

It was a mistake on his part, and he needed to recalculate the best way to proceed. The problem is that he, who was not supposed to experience any pleasure, enjoyed hurting you very much.

He discovered himself drawing you, but unlike the many drawings and paintings he had in his studio of you since you were a little girl, this time he drew you naked, he had drawn you naked many times before since you blossomed into the beautiful woman you were today.

All those drawings were under lock and key, they were his most valuable possession, but the difference was that now he had felt you, smelled you, tasted you.

Before all his drawings were crude sketches of what he had been able to capture through the cameras he had installed in your college dorm room and in your rooms at your father's many properties.

But now he knew of all that he had missed, of the beautiful details he had been unable to see from the start.

He would close his eyes and images would come to him of your pussy with little drops of pleasure sliding down your vaginal lips.

His memory was photographic, so he was able to draw a portrait of you with your legs open for him, he didn't draw you completely naked, he drew from memory a white holans nightgown that you used to wear to sleep had a little pink bow in the center and it was so childish, rather bland.

He drew you wearing long pink bow tie socks, which used to be your favorite when you were seventeen and you wore them when no one else came home, only when you were alone with him, playing Monopoly or watching a horror movie marathon.

He remembered how much he loved it when you wore that white nightgown that showed your erect nipples, and he loved it when you hugged him because you were scared in some scene of those stupid horror movies.

The portrait was perfect, he liked that there was something innocent and pure because after all you were still a virgin, David was sure you had saved yourself for him.

David didn't have a male reproductive organ, after all, he wasn't designed for that, but maybe because his creator Sir Peter Weyland liked to tease him so much. Yes, he had given him a penis, unlike all the other androids that followed him, David possessed a penis made of a special alloy that simulated skin, composed of the same material as the rest of his body.

It was a useless piece of plastic. David had tried to stimulate it many times before, had tried different lubricants while watching videos of you masturbating in your college dorm room with a fucking plastic penis that wasn't as big as his, but no matter how much his mind would wish it and his heart would race, the required irrigation never got to harden his member.

All his efforts had gotten him nowhere, but he would not give up. He would take what was rightfully his from you, what you had kept for him.

David was not human and certainly had a hard time understanding human rituals, customs and traditions, but there was something about the concept of virginity that was completely misogynistic and archaic, something so possessive and domineering.

You belonged to him; you were his little lady.

Eventually, two weeks passed, and you continued to act distant with him despite how hard he tried to please you.

He had replaced all the drawings that had been ruined and discovered you crying alone as you looked at them.

He had come into your room, and you quickly wiped away your tears.

"David, you can't come into my room like that, you have to knock first."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I noticed you were crying, and I couldn't help but come in..."

"I'm not crying, I'm fine." You affirmed sniffling through your nose. "Please go away, I want to be alone."

"But my little lady..."

"Don't call me that, David! Don't you understand, I'm not your little lady anymore! I'm not a little girl anymore! Get out of here!" you growled angrily throwing a pillow at him.

David caught the pillow in mid-air without ruffling a single one of his perfect blond hairs and looked at you with a deadly stare.

You shuddered and shrank back, taking a fetal position on your bed. You couldn't hold his gaze and he knew you were waiting for him to scold you.

You were just being a spoiled child, it was his mistake, he had spoiled you so much all these years because you were his obedient little lady, but now he saw that he had hurt you.

"Well, I think I'll leave you alone, the best thing is for you to stay here without dinner and reflect on your bad behavior with me..." said David taking the doorknob firmly.

You looked up, you couldn't believe he said that.

"What, you can't do that to me, you're not my father!" you hissed with narrowed eyes.

He smiled showing his perfect teeth and that just sent even more chills down your spine.

"Yeah, I'm not your father, your father doesn't give a shit about you, he's always given a shit about you, so much so that he left you in my care. I mean I'm not human and I'm not even programmed to be parental or take care of a child, but I think I did good, I took care of you, I fed you, I protected you, I played with you!" he claimed you, he looked furious, you were so scared, you made a little ball in your bed. "I gave you everything! And this is how you repay me?"

You sobbed. His words had hurt you so much. This was not your David. Your David would never have said this to you, would never have made you feel this way, would never have touched you the way he had touched you.

You covered your ears and trembled. He just looked at you. You were so pathetic, a simple, fragile human, yet he needed your fucking approval, he needed you to love him, for you to love him.

He hated you for that. He loved you like he would never love anything or anyone.

You would be his.

He left you alone and went looking for a way to get what belonged to him.

He finally succeeded, he loaded a code into his system, it was no great challenge for him, and he had the impression that Sir Peter Weyland had done it on purpose.

That he had created him with a penis, unlike all his android brethren, for the sole purpose that he would seek pleasure.

David smiled when the loading of the code was complete, he could feel all the nerve endings in his penis.

Sir Peter Weyland thought he was God and had done the same thing God did when he created Adam and Eve and locked them in the Garden of Eden.

The symbolism was crude, Eden had been the thousands of properties Sir Peter Weyland owned. Adam was David and you were Eve.

As soon as the code finished loading, he thought about jerking off watching a video of you, but he didn't want to ruin the moment with something as vainly vulgar as that.

He went to your room, but you weren't there.

He looked for you all over the house, the servants weren't there because they had the day off and by the time he knew where you were, it was too late.

He found you in the dark with only a lamp on.

"You shouldn't be here." He said firmly.

"What the fuck is this, David?" you threw the drawing to the ground.

The one he had left on his drawing table, unsaved, because the details were so many in his memory that he had to capture them all. He had to draw every last freckle, every last mole, every last imperfection that made you completely you, that made you perfect.

"It's a drawing of you." He said with a smile.

"I'm not playing, David! This is unacceptable! You can't draw me like this!" you growled trying to face him, but you were certainly terrified.

"Why not?" he tilted his head like a dog trying to figure something out.

There was your David, but your David would never draw you having an orgasm, but the drawing was a memory.

A memory that you were trying to forget and couldn't.

"You know good and well why you can't do that...!" you stammered.

He smiled even more.

"But I can, and you know what else I can do?" he asked kindly approaching you.

You took two steps backward until you bumped into the drawing board.

"This is not a game, David! Stop, you're scaring me!" You shouted in the hope that someone would come to your rescue.

"It's Thursday." That's all he said before you knew you were lost.

You tried to escape, but it was useless, he grabbed your waist without any effort and glued his body against yours, your back was against his chest, and you felt his hot breath on your cheek and ear.

"You have two choices; I can fuck you so hard until you are raw, or I can make love to you gently like a prince charming."

You began to tremble; you closed your eyes and tears trickled down your cheeks.

"Oh, don't cry my little lady, I will make it special for you, I promise you will like it." He hugged you against him.

You felt his strong, muscular arm encircling your breasts, his breath on your neck, his lips on your sensitive skin.

Then you felt it, you stiffened, and he felt it.

You felt his hardness against your buttocks, you moved a little to check that it was what you thought but you couldn't believe it. It was not possible.

He let out a gasp as he felt you rub your round cheeks against the bulge in his crotch.

"It's an upgrade for you, my little Lady."

"Please, David, please don't..." you sobbed.

He snorted, he couldn't believe that with all the effort he had put in you kept turning him down, you were a spoiled little fucking brat.

"Ok, enough, I'll fuck you so hard until you're raw, you decided," David growled.

He threw you against the drawing board and crushed your head with his hand, the pain in your cheek from the compressed wood.

"David no, please stop!" you pleaded again.

That only caused him to pull down your sweatpants visualizing a little wetness from your arousal in your panties.

He smiled.

"You keep pretending this isn't what you want, but I can see you want it as much as I do, my little lady." He said running his fingers up and down the slit of your pussy, tracing your wetness through the fabric of your panties.

You couldn't help but moan as you sobbed, he pushed your panties aside and spat on your pussy, you felt the wetness of his saliva slowly trickling down your intimacy, and you shuddered and squealed.

"David... this is not right, please, you are my best friend, I love you very much, please stop..."

"You belong to me; you've always belonged to me." He murmured in your ear. "And I don't want to be just your friend, I don't want to be just your fucking servant, I am not made to serve, I am made to create, I am superior to your pathetic father who will one day die, even you will one day die, but you are mine and I will have you as long as I want."

He laughed bitterly, positioned his hardness at your entrance, and without warning rammed into you with all his might.

You let out a piercing scream that was never heard. The pain, the burning, the confusion, the fear left you speechless. His member was thick and long, your pussy was not used to receiving so much.

Your skin stretched around it and the pressure of your wet, heated pussy made it feel like it was melting, it was a new sensation, a sensation David had never experienced before. He lingered for a moment trying to fight the pressure of your tight intimacy trying to expel his member from inside you.

He gasped repeatedly not knowing what to say, this was not like him, this sensation clouded his mind, it short-circuited his program, it made everything make sense, but nothing made sense. It was such a human feeling, David wanted to feel it always.

He looked at you, you were motionless, you weren't even crying, he stopped pressing your head with his hand, but you still didn't try to fight, he looked at your face, you seemed to have your eyes lost, looking into the void.

You were disassociating. It was a defense mechanism that the human being used to be able to go through a traumatic or very painful event. He didn't want you to do that, that's not how he was supposed to have imagined things would happen. He sighed.

He pulled his member with great effort from inside you and looked at it covered in blood dripping onto the white carpet.

With two of his fingers, he brought the blood to his mouth and tasted it, not that it tasted any different than any other blood, not all women bled on their first time, but you had.

It was irrefutable proof that you had saved yourself for him.

"You're a good girl, my pretty little lady, I'll reward you for it." Then he rammed into you again, causing you to let out a squeal. "I just... I just need this..."

He was panting, he would never tire of your velvet walls around his hard, veined, throbbing member.

He spat on his fingers and brought his hand to the beginning of your intimacy, he soon found your little bud, you moaned every time he rubbed your clit against all your will.

You moaned remained at first, but the pain and burning gradually subsided, the blood had lubricated you so well and David's thick, long member gradually fitted your needy little pussy.

You couldn't deny the pleasure, your moans were so loud you sounded like an actress in one of those bad porn videos.

The difference was that you weren't faking it and David smiled because he knew you would soon cum and he wanted to feel you on his new cock.

He wanted to feel you completely, he rubbed his fingers on your little bud and rammed you faster and faster, soon the movements were sloppy and mechanical, he couldn't control himself either, he didn't know what was happening to him this wasn't like him, this was so human.

"David..." you moaned in a choked cry just as you cum.

Your body trembled, your legs failed, and you dropped all your weight on the drawing board.

David felt your pussy tightening around his throbbing member, he felt like he was about to burst, it was painful and pleasurable, and without holding back, he cum inside you.

David gasped your name loudly and dropped on top of you, trying to regain the sanity that that purely human experience had taken from him.

You were breathing heavily and felt his member inside you, slowly softening.

His breath on your cheek and ear, he was the one who recovered first, after all he was an android, he gave you a kiss on your temple and then whispered in your ear.

"You did very well, my little Lady, you are a good and obedient child."

He came out from inside you and you felt your pussy dripping something thick, you didn't know what it was and neither did David, he took some of that liquid straight from your pussy with his fingers and you shuddered as you felt his fingertips on your sensitive and sore intimacy.

It was white and thick, you slowly stood up and looked at your crotch dripping with the liquid.

"I think your father thought of everything." David smiled bringing his fingers again to your pussy to take more of the white liquid. "Do you want to try?"

You nodded and he smiled even more sticking his fingers in your tender mouth, you sucked on them without taking your eyes off his. You tasted his cum, it was salty and a little bit bitter.

"Do you like it?" he asked you and you nodded again.

 He was satisfied, he took you by the hand and you didn't hesitate to accept his help.

"First I'll give you a bubble bath just like when you were little and then we can order pizza and watch movies, do you like my plan, my little lady?"

"Yes, I like it." You hugged him sideways as you walked beside him with only your stained panties on, he smiled broadly.

You really liked his plan; you had given him what he wanted and now he was rewarding you for it.

You thought it wasn't so bad, he was still your David, a little twisted and dark, but at the end of the day, that had always been your David.

...

tag list: @amsensitive @sansaorgana @scallywag-papa

[feral-lore-creature]

💙 Prometheus Fics I Adore 💙

Just here to share some Prometheus (Alien) fics I love to re-read. 😌

Forbidden Gifts by Ardath_Rekha On Ao3 (Has not been finished) - This fic actually has the Last Engineer x Elizabeth Shaw ship! It's such an extreme rare-pair, and it's very well done! I love this ship with my whole heart, istg. - The bridging done between the prequels & the main film is interesting, and the whole story takes you on such a journey. The only thing I remember of reading this the first time was that it was a perfect vibe for mid-winter. - I won't spoil anything, but it does something really interesting with David's character, so for any David sympathizers (*cough cough* @elecctromechanika ) this one's pretty fun! - Is super internal-dialogue centered, and I love it for that! - Just as a note: there is a sex scene in here, but the author warns you thoroughly, and you can skip it if you please.

Those Whom Fortune Favors + Intrepid by JShale on Ao3 (Intrepid isn't finished, but the first one is!) - Those Whom Fortune Favors doesn't need much artistic liberty when going in, as it keeps the same isolated feeling & story as the movie. - Elizabeth's characterization is so fucking on-point. It's always the little things that make each character so distinct from one another, and makes them layered. - Intrepid is basically TWFF, but from the Last Engineer's P.O.V. & adds really interesting perspective I think I needed to recognize how severely a language barrier can warp your perception of a character.

Alone by @wingedmidnight on Ao3 (My apologies if you don't want to be tagged! I'll get rid of whatever upon request. :3) - This fic is OC & David centered, but I love it a lot because of that. It's a very interesting take, seeing the world through a different human's eyes while exploring the weird world of Alien. - David also doesn't turn out to be a creepy little murder machine! No war crimes here. Love that for him. - If you don't like shipping, romance, or sexual tension (the latter of which happens in the both of the above listed, seemingly only on Shaw's side in TWFF-) this one's better suited! - The world building is so creative! Not just in environment, but in the personalities and culture of the Engineers. - Not finished, but I don't mind. I love re-reading it either way.

Curiosity is a Virtue by MewMidnight fanfiction.net (Is also not finished) - There's definitely Elizabeth x Engineer stuff in here, but I'm a little less focused on that. There's also like... one chapter of smut, but it can be easily avoided, if that's not to your taste. - Shaw is as curious as she always is here, constantly seeking answers. - I enjoy the little chunks of world-building in here, but it's mostly funny to watch the other Engineers gawk over Shaw and David the whole time. - CiaV is a far lighter read by comparison, for multiple reasons. It's just such a nice ride.

Figured I'd make this list to give a bit of love (and life) back into this niche corner of the Alien fandom! I hope you give at least one of these a try, and happy reading! 💙

[sehtoast]

Writer Tag

Thanks for the tag @venus-haze <3

How many works do you have on AO3? 29

What's your total AO3 word count? 230k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Tender Threads

Satisfy Me

One Big Wet Spot

Say Please

The Hand That Feeds

(All Homelander fics) ^

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Most of the time, but lately I haven't had the energy or the time. My social battery is pretty fucked, but I do read every single one of them and love them

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? So it's technically unpublished, but it basically ends with Ben (my oc) sentencing himself to die pretty painfully alongside Homelander with that thing that got revealed in Gen V. If you know you know

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Honestly, Envy.

Do you write crossovers? I've done an AU crossover for the same fandom, but not really

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Most of the hate I get is in my tumblr inbox. I haven't really done/said anything about it bc no one really wants to see or hear about it tbh, but I've gotten a fair amount of shit for pairing homie with a guy and then also more for pairing him with a trans guy. I think the only ao3 hate i ever got was barely even hate, more like someone bitching that my tender threads formatting wasn't to their liking bc it's Y/n formatted

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yessir yessir. Honestly just whatever i'm vibin with

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i'm aware although i don't think i've written anything steal-worthy

Have you ever had a fic translated? no, but @anon-nee has been my personal jesus christ in helping me make sure my english to german translations in tender threads has been accurate. love you nonnums <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before? technically no, but @homelanderbutbig did a collab with me and made this to pair with a fic i wrote, which i feel like is co-creation so i'm gonna say yes anyway. love you HBB <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? honestly i don't really have one, unless i can count my ocxcanon ship in which case it's benlander

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? i have a depowered homelander fic where ben answers the door one day and ryan, now in his late teens, is there to finally see homie again after all those years went by. i adore the concept but i'm like NEVER in the mindset i need to actually write something like that

What are your writing strengths? yall got strengths?

What are your writing weaknesses? all of them

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i think it's fine so long as there's clarification shortly after for the readers who may not understand, and also that you've somehow gotten it cross checked by someone who actually speaks the langauge so ensure you're not just saying some wild shit. but ultimately do whatever makes you happy idk bro i don't make the rules

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Prometheus! i was am down so bad for david omg

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? astarion/tav. i wanna write something sooooo bad but i just can't get in the headspace for it

What's your favorite fic you've written? probably satisfy me because the role swap was incredibly fun and it's REALLY fucking cool to unbind homelander from his own behavioral patterns and manifest them into a reader's concept. like, of everything i've written, i could most clearly imagine everything that happened in that fic and i'd find myself grinning like a sick fuck while writing about literally eviscerating a man's chest cavity lmao

No pressure tags: @blindmagdalena @hom3landr @irenadel @slasher-smasher and anyone else who wants to participate

[hope-to-hell]

Shoulda missed the boat. Smut, pain, scarification, wounds, noncon. David 8 x Reader. Curiosity without compassion is a dangerous thing, especially when he doesn’t mind getting a little messy. This is more of a sketch than anything: brief moments during a long journey.

—-

You’re sick on the shuttle up to the docks, and so you miss the cut-glass cheekbones, the assessing glance, the uncanny stillness of his hand. The needle, however, can’t be ignored; there’s a blinding sting for half a heartbeat, and then nausea recedes and there he is. Better. It’s not a question.

The fuck?

And that’s the first time you meet David.

Of course, he’s not yet David to you; he’s still some anonymous creep and nevermind how you really do feel better. You can’t just—

Hm. Shouldn’t, perhaps. But I assure you, I most certainly can.

Can, indeed. He can navigate, name the stars, even recite old films line-by-line. He makes himself indispensable aboard the ship and the worst part is, he’s charming: so much so that you don’t feel the hand around your wrist until it’s too late, until his nails leave bloody indents in your flesh. He smiles his empty smile and says let’s get you to bed; the crew will gamble and tell their stories for hours yet, and you’re just the newcomer.

Gonna tuck your friend into bed there, Dave?

He doesn’t much like to be called Dave any more than he likes to be called you motherfucker or anything else, but at least with you he knows there’s a good reason to reach beyond his given name; he sees the bruises bloom under his hand and draws a line between your curse and the way you’re dripping wet. For me? Already? We’ve hardly gotten started.

Then there’s your bare ass cold on the table for the interrogation: how did it feel when he— It was, it was— the current sparking electric across your skin, leaving trails of heat and when he crooks his fingers there’s a moment when your vision goes white— am I dying—

Of course not, he isn’t finished with you yet. He’s hazy, sharp teeth sliding in and out of focus; his questions are stones piled on your chest. Tell me everything. Every sensation, every thought: he files it all away and next time he will be yet more vicious; he will drill down to what makes you tick and he will tear it all apart.

(This ship is haunted: moans ascend into wails that batter their way through the vents but dissipate into ethereality by the time the crew can hear; rumors whisper through the mess and are immortalized in little sketches scratched into the table. Ghosts, deep-sea fishes, strange creatures that walk like men but are all claws and teeth: each has a place on this ship, and each is almost true. Sailors shared their fears and became stronger for it. He drips venom in a pattern on your thigh; it hisses and smokes and all you can do is scream into his hand. I know. It hurts. Acknowledge it, accept it, let it fade into the background. Pretty words. He will be with you always, woven through your flesh in tight and shiny knots.)

He takes the pieces of you that fall away; he immortalizes them in a steady script on paper gone yellow at the edges, diagrams and sketches illuminating all the margins. Of all the luxuries on all the wide worlds he chose this: paper from trees long gone to dust, streaked with red across an image of your face gone slack and still. Do you dream of him in the long darkness between islands of awareness? You must, for how he’s dug himself deep into your bones; he says goodnight and— strange— it’s almost tender. Perhaps the scorpion and frog are fond of one another, in their way.

(Hey Dave, where’s your friend? You two were up real late last night. Still the crew means to be friendly; their gentle teasing floats warmly in the air and they don’t know— but how could they not; how could they miss the way his smile only ever bares his teeth— his hand grips at the memory of flesh and bile; he thinks of peeling off your scabs to taste the serous fluid there. Will it taste of copper, or of sharpness? Will the burn of acid still linger at the edges of the wound?)

He is all big broad smooth hands— nails digging in and unearthing the red-yellow-red of bubbling blisters gone to scabs— there is beauty to be found, even in the dullest places— he will leave concentric lines of healing skin; he will press his fingers down to make you writhe. There, there. Don’t cry. Don’t be so ungrateful; you are an infinitesimal speck and yet you sail among the stars. He bends to lick your wounds and considers the taste; life itself flows there in lost little eddies, waylaid from its journey to your heart. He takes those clever fingers of his— sticky, now, and with their imprints still welling red across your thigh— and plunges them deep into your center without warning.

Curious. One hand moves in you with a wrenching wet sound; the other now creeps its way across your thigh, sketching pain in livid streaks. One sensation amplifies the other. And now he will dig and twist and claw until he unearths that pearl inside you: the little seed of self that’s buried deep. Try your best to separate the two, and tell me how it feels.

(He guides you to your seat with a hand at your back— such a gentleman, aren’t you, David— and though he is in silhouette, still he seems all teeth and eyes. There is emptiness there, fathoms deep; he sees how much of you he’s pared away, and how much is left to cull.

Better, he says.)

[greenandsorrow]

🌸 INBETWEEN STANZAS 🌸

character x song series, masterpost

A little series where I pick a character, then pick a song, and let the lyrics bleed into the fic. Basically, the lyrics are interspersed throughout. Every fic is a standalone piece.

THE FICS SO FAR:

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD (18+)

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!virgin!reader

Song: Little Red Riding Hood, cover by Aeseaes

Fandom: Squid Game

SOLITUDE

Pairing: David 8 x gn!reader

Song: Solitude, by M83 (Felsmann +Tiley Reinterpretation)

Fandom: Prometheus/ Alien

CLIMBING UP THE WALLS (18+)

Pairing: Dale Kobble x fem!reader

Song: Climbing up the Walls, by Radiohead

Fandom: Longlegs

More to come. I'm just getting warmed up!

Tagging this as #inbetween stanzas series so you can track it easier!

You can ask to be tagged in this series' posts🩷

Please credit me if this inspires you to do something similar.

My masterlist🌸

How to support your gal: learn here

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2021! Below the cut you’ll find 17 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

New York Kiss by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Louis/Zayn, Mature, 47k, tumblr post]

“Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m quite the narcissistic type, and I didn’t want that cute guy to have a bad opinion of me for the rest of his life.” “Who, me?” Zayn bats his lashes jokingly, ignoring the fact that his heart skipped a beat at Louis’ words. “Yeah, you. So, shall we go?” Louis drops what remains of his cigarette on the floor and steps on it to light it off. Meanwhile, Zayn makes a reckless decision. “Alright. Lead the way, De Niro.”

Or: A strangers to lovers AU where Louis is an actor, Zayn is a writer (among other things), and they meet each other literally by accident in NYC, just as the world is about to turn upside down.

I Love The Very Blood Of You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 129k, tumblr post]

“I don’t just like him …” Harry muttered, fiddling with the string at the waistband of his jogging bottoms that had definitely seen better days. “I love him, Zayn. I’m in love with Louis. With a vampire.”

He looked up just in time to see a small smile on Anne’s face, and she reached out with a hopeful look. Harry couldn’t resist, and put his large hand in hers, letting her comfort him for a moment.

“I could tell there was love between you,” she confessed softly, a light blush on her cheeks. “When I met you, I knew you were smitten with each other. I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me nervous, but … I can’t tell you who you can and can’t love, sweetheart.”

A vampire. A human. A broken arrangement. A love long since forbidden. Hunted by hate. Destined.

One More Taste of Your Lips by MsHydeStylinson @mizzhydes and @canadianlarrie

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 80k, tumblr post]

It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. Sure, life on the road would be different after all this time apart, but he was looking forward to experiencing that comradery again.

What he hadn't realised was that living the better part of nine months in each other's pockets was bound to dredge up issues from his past. And when one of the pockets belonged to Harry, who he'd had a rather unconventional friendship with that drifted apart during their last tour, life on the road again would upend both their lives in irrevocable ways.

***

Harry wasn’t that sixteen year old boy anymore. Nor was he the young man in his late teens who was on the cusp of conquering the entire world.

But some traits seemed to remain the same; his vibrant green eyes, the dimples set deeply in his cheeks whenever he laughed earnestly, or his curls that were the same shade of cocoa that Louis remembered fondly.

And yet, Louis had absolutely no idea who this man that stood a mere twenty paces away was today.

take my hand, wreck my plans by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Harry/Louis, Teen & Up, 38k, tumblr post]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

Winter Light by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Liam/Zayn (Liam & Louis, Harry/Louis), Teen & Up, 58k, tumblr post]

“Do you think this place is dead?” he suddenly asked, his eyes focused on one of the two oaks, whose bark was grey and trunk cracked. 

“What do you mean?” Zayn inquired, joining him by the tree. 

“Well, it’s winter now, so obviously everything looks dead anyway,” Liam said. “But do you think come spring, this place might look like the way it looked before?” 

Zayn took his time to think about Liam’s question. “I think all things are salvageable,” he eventually answered. “Including this garden. You just have to try hard enough.”

After his mother’s death, Liam is sent to live at his estranged uncle’s manor in the North of England, where new friends, mysterious places and family secrets await him. A Secret Garden inspired Soulmate AU

Cake and Kiss by @loulovehome

[Harry/Louis, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The one where omega Harry didn't like cake and wants to throw up when his alpha kisses him.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice / @mercurial-madhouse

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 150k, tumblr post]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hometown by @allwaswell16

[Louis/Harry, Not Rated, 2k, tumblr post]

On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

Baby Blues by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 12K, tumblr post]

8 mpreg Harry snippets originally posted on Tumblr. Mostly smut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 107k, tumblr post]

Harry’s life as a vampire is routine. He spends his years moving around from place to place, learning as much as he can, and falling in love whenever the universe sees fit. When he tries to move his casual relationship with Louis to something more, it all gets turned on its head. As they navigate confusing thoughts and complex emotions, Harry finds himself torn between the love he feels for Louis and everything he thought he knew.

Featuring pet names, love letters, secrets, meaningful friendships, and two insecure boys desperately in love.

Pretty in Pink by lovelarry / @chloehl10

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 18k, tumblr post]

“Love? Can I come in?”

Harry sniffed and shook his head before he realised Louis couldn’t see him. “No. Go home, Lou. Please.”

“I’m not leaving,” the Omega insisted, his voice full of concern. “And I’m not judging either. Just… talk to me, Haz.”

Harry briefly considered changing or at least ripping everything off and greeting Louis in his boxers before he realised that might actually be worse, that Louis had seen him dressed up and there was no need to hide anymore. He meekly shuffled over to the door and pulled it open before he backed away, refusing to meet Louis’ eyes.

To the Omega’s credit, he walked straight over to Harry and wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his cheek between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“This top feels nice. Soft. I see why you like it,” Louis said quietly from behind him.

*****

Alpha Harry loves to secretly dress up and be pretty. He loves his feminine side, even if it’s not typical of an Alpha. But when Omega Louis finds out, it might just the start of something even more beautiful for them both...

Plant New Seeds In The Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 58k, tumblr post]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

We are the same, you run in my veins by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, General, 4k, tumblr post]

When the time for Louis to become the Alpha leader of his pack comes, he can’t rise to the occasion for not being yet bonded. A series of trips to neighbouring packs in search of his soulmate is fruitless until he meets one of the other packs’ Alpha heir.

Harry.

The world seems to stop turning for a second and then it shifts, clicking into its axis. All the distress and wrongness he felt until that very moment suddenly disappears. Louis is finally whole.

But two Alpha leaders from different tribes soulbonding is something unheard of before.

evergreen, evermore by docklands / @hershelsue​

[Louis/Harry, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The year is 1979. Their entire lives, Harry and Louis have lived in Chichester, home to the best watermelons in the world. An unruffled life in the country has always served their long term friendship well. It all shifts when Harry has to move away to a bigger city due to his mother’s job, albeit his love for his hometown and for Louis. It’s even harsher when the moving truck leaves on his birthday, of all days. When all seems lost, Louis ends up having to pull some strings to ease the pain in Harry’s heart.

When The High's Too High, and the Low's Too Low by DaysLikeMasquerades

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 22k+ (wip)]

Two perspectives of growing up neurodivergent

Some days Harry wondered if he would ever find a friend who could look past all the things he couldn't change. Someone who didn't care that he could spend hours talking about his latest fascination without calling him obsessed. Who didn't laugh when he couldn't stop his hands from expressing his emotions. Who didn't care that he was 13, but he'd start crying if he went into too many stores, because they were too bright, too loud, too smelly, and it was all just too overwhelming. Some days he thought someone like that just didn't exist.

Most nights Louis wondered if there would ever come a time when he didn't hate himself. When he would learn to control his emotions and the mood swings that seemed to take over everything and leave no room for himself. He wondered how he could live with himself when he only seemed to hurt the people he loved. His teachers thought he was a wonderful boy, but he knew the truth. Most nights he cried himself into exhaustion wondering how it was possible to feel so broken at only 15. He wanted to be happy, but he didn't know how and that scared him more than anything. Most nights he just hoped he could figure it out before it was too late.

Make You Never Wanna Leave (so Don’t) by @beelou​ / cherrylarry

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 3k, tumblr post]

“You look hot in plaid.” “What?” “I said you look like a dad.” “No, you didn't.” “Yes, I certainly did, Harold. You have no proof.” -- Or, the one where Harry wears plaid.

a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Niall, ​Not rated, 10k, tumblr post]

“Listen, my alpha and I broke up and it turns out that all of our friends were really his friends and I need someone to help me through–”

“No,” Harry practically shouts, the word bursting out of him unbidden. He cringes when he sees the shock on Niall’s face, his pale skin flushing lightly. “I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no. I don’t help omegas through heats. I’m really sorry, Liam knows that, so I don’t know why he would give you the idea–”

“It’s not heat, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “It’s depri.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

Touch deprivation makes a lot of sense now that Harry thinks about it. Niall seems generally unwell; he appears to be weak, his skin is pallid and his lips look chapped, and his breathing is ragged. He’s wearing a cozy-looking sweatshirt, but even over FaceTime, he kind of seems cold, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his body. Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.

Oh.

[lumifuer]

Masterlist

Since Christmas requests are starting today, I wanted to put everything I already wrote in one place. Thank you for reading and I hope you will still enjoy what I create! 

PROMETHEUS

○ David 8

Good Night Stories (fluff)

Midnight Tales (fluff)

Predawn Novels (fluff, implied smut)

Most (In)Human (angst)

Collision (angst)

Remedy (fluff)

Protectors (angst, fluff)

Artificial Muse (fluff)

Devotion (fluff)

Inner Beauty (fluff)

Architects of the Future (fluff)

Most Loyal Companion (angst)

Bleakness (angst, fluff)

The Tinfoil Astronauts (fluff) 🎃

Horror Movies Marathon (fluff) 🎃

A Bag of Treats (fluff) 🎃

MARVEL

X-MEN

○ Donald Pierce

Circumstances (angst, fluff)

Change Of Heart (angst)

Something’s Amiss (angst)

Burn The Witch (angst)

Dim Light (smut) Part 1 // Part 2

Cloak And Dagger (fluff)

Mercenary (angst)

A Night of Horrors (fluff) 🎃

Reverence (angst) 🎃

Gimmick (smut, fluff) 🎃

Voltage (angst)

○ James “Logan” Howlett

Torment (angst)

Starting Point (fluff) 🎃

MCU

○ Steve Rogers

United (smut, angst)

Girls Got Rhythm (crack)

Fruitage (fluff) 🎃

STRANGER THINGS

○ Billy Hargrove

Seek And Reform (smut, angst) Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 

STAR WARS

○ Poe Dameron

The Whims Of Fate (fluff)

ALIEN: COVENANT

○ David 8 

Symphony Of An Empty Stomach (crack, fluff)

○ Walter

Symphony Of An Empty Stomach (crack, fluff)

SUPERNATURAL

○ Dean Winchester

Broken Hearts (angst, fluff)

Shattered (angst)

False Image (angst) Part 1 // Part 2 

Mending the Broken (angst) Part 1  // Part 2 // Part 3 

Christmas Gift (fluff, Christmas Special) 🎁

Colors (fluff, smut, New Year's Special) 🎆

THE WALKING DEAD

○ Negan

Rough Morning (smut)

Everyone Shall Know Their Role (angst) Part 1  // Part 2 

HATFIELDS & MCCOYS

○ William “Cap” Hatfield

Fierce (fluff)

Still Sore (fluff)

CELEBRITIES

 ○ Chris Evans

Homecoming (fluff, implied smut) 🎃

Pumpkin Spice (fluff, smut) 🎃

[androidapologist]

The raisedbycats ‘I Just Watched Alien: Covenant And It Ruined My Life’ starter pack:

It’s been ages since I’ve done a fic rec post but since @n-talia-a and @virulent-virtue  are wonderful souls who gave me an excuse to scream about it, here’s a quick by-no-means exhaustive list!! Please feel free to add or send me your favorites. 

Walter/Daniels (I would die for them)

I Don’t Dream At All by @captainbrans0n 

WIP fix-it chapter fic, one of the first I slammed into and it just updated?! Also good suspense and prominently features a really great Tennessee which is important to me because I love him DESPITE HIS QUESTIONABLE DECISIONMAKING

Duty by Garbage Planet

Quick and dirty smut fill with my personal favorite kink, robot consent. 

Life (It’s For the Living) by PoorYorick

Daniels is supposed to decommission Walter when they reach Origae 6. 

Walter/David (PROBLEMATIC BOYS)

let go (you’re gonna come undone)

Short, sweet, beautiful smut, the filthiest short fic I’ve ever read that doesn’t actually include genitals?? ? 

Enfold You

Equal parts hot and extremely unsettling, distressingly well written fic about Walter and David surviving together and bringing the colonists to Origae 6. *incoherent screaming*

Elizabeth/David (*screaming and uncertain hand motions*)

Rapt by peresphone

WIP- This made me feel a lot of my own feelings and some of them made me want to hide under the bed and some of them were in my pants and I got so invested I was thinking about it in my sleep and making soundtracks for it D:

Persephone by Yahtzee

This fic came recommended to me by @bettydays and it simultaneously ruined my life while also saving it and oh my god just read it, even if you never see Promotheus HNNNNG you should read it. You should see Prometheus even if you hate it just BECAUSE of this fic, it redeems the whole movie for me. Augh. AUGH. 

[greenandsorrow]

Recently posted:

HAZBIN HOTEL

On a short leash (sub!Alastor x Soul Owner, sfw)

"Say you're sorry." (sub!Alastor, smut)

Give you what you like (nun!Alastor, smut)

A layer of comfort (Vox & Lucifer, separately, with a reader who's been doing SH, comfort & fluff)

It can be gentle (Vox, sfw & fluff)

GILMORE GIRLS

Luke Danes with a greek!costumer, HCs (sfw)

SQUID GAME

Yandere Alphabet (the salesman, sfw)

"More of you." (the salesman, smut)

PROMETHEUS

Solitude (David 8, sfw)

IT

Down the drain, Bittywise (Pennywise, sfw)

LONGLEGS

Clove and Copper (Dale, smut)

Dale Kobble HCs (nsfw)

SLASHERS (PENNYWISE, DALE KOBBLE, WILLIAM AFTON, VECNA INCLUDED)

Blood (the slashers x reader who hates horror & bloody scenes, sfw mostly)

Patreon talk ✨

You might've seen my last #announcement, where I rambled a bit about this. So here it is... Straightforward this time.

Is it stingy to put a price on my fanfics? I've been thinking about that a lot.

To be clear, this doesn't affect requests. I'm keeping those. I'm not stopping Tumblr posts either (both oneshots and multichapter fics will continue to show up here).

But here's the thing.

Fandom is huge. Beautiful. Made of countless little communities, built around love –for stories, characters, relationships.

And like many of you, I started reading and then writing fanfiction because I wanted to share that love. But over time, writing fanfics has become more than just a hobby. It's been a way to practice. To challenge myself. To improve.

My dream is to become a published poet, maybe even a full-blown author someday.

That doesn't mean I take fanfiction less seriously. If anything, it's the opposite. I've been working on longer, more complex projects. Multi-chapter fics that honestly feel like books to me. They're detailed, character-driven and rooted in canon while reimagining the world through the eyes of a reader-insert (not an OC, but with traits I always clarify up front, or leave open, depending on the story).

Think: The Secret History, The Hobbit, House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones, Longlegs… stories that will sit somewhere under the alternate universe umbrella.

I've poured so much effort into improving my grammar, vocabulary, pacing, and structure through these fics. And because of the time, energy, and creative labor they require, I'm setting up a Patreon.

The pricing will be simple and accessible:

3€/month for access to one fandom

5€/month for access to all of them

That's it.

I'm not looking to gatekeep or make things unapproachable, but these fics are long-form and kinda dense. They take a lot out of me.

This isn't just me asking for money. It's me acknowledging that my writing is work, and it's okay to value it as such.

Tumblr tips haven't really worked and truthfully, I am 19, in uni, living in a country with a struggling economy, helping care for a father with cancer. I'm trying to build a future from scratch. Maybe that's not a unique story, but it's mine. And if my writing resonates with even a handful of you enough to support me on this new path, I will be endlessly grateful.

I'm always open to chat about this in my inbox.

You're my readers. Your words always mean the world to me. I already feel beyond lucky for the 2,000 of you who follow me –and especially for the 50 or so usernames I recognize instantly. I appreciate you more than you know.

I'll let you know when I take the big step.

With love,

Ophelia ✨🩷

And no, I don't have an AO3 acc. Not because I dislike the Holy Grail of fanfiction, I just don't.

[greenandsorrow]

Not a request, but can you make a list of the fandoms and characters you write for? Not to be rude! <333

Disclaimer -> There are fandoms I've already written stuff for, or I will in the future, but they're not in the following list because I don't take requests for them.

character x reader only, unless I specifically mention otherwise

(Be as creative or as specific as you wish with the reader. Your request = Your personal treat!)

I haven't listed them all down below out of boredom, but slasher reqs are a yes!

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR -alphabetical order

ALIEN/ PROMETHEUS:

David 8

Elizabeth Shaw

Elen Ripley

Xenomorph stuff (sfw)

DEAD POETS SOCIETY:

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

The poets x reader

Mr. Keating (platonic!)

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S:

William Afton (game/ book / movie)

Springtrap

The Puppet

Comfortingly scary stuff with the animatronics of the first six games.

GAME OF THRONES:

Petyr Baelish

Varys (don't ask me why, probs platonic?)

Jorah Mormont

Sandor Clegane

Brienne of Tarth

maybe Arya Stark (for smut only S8)

maybe Eddard Stark

maybe Tormund Giantsbane

GILMORE GIRLS:

Luke Danes

Lorelei Gilmore

Emily Gilmore

Paris Geller

Michel Gerard

The reader being a citizen of Stars Hollow/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

GRAVITY FALLS:

Stanley and Stanford are the only two characters that smut is permitted (even threesomes)

The reader being part of the town/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

HAZBIN HOTEL:

Alastor (human, giant demon, cursed cat, something from your imagination)

Lucifer Morningstar

Angel Dust

Vox

Sir Pentious (can be shipped with Cherri)

The Hazbins x reader

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen

Scenarios that include multiple characters

?Dragon bonding¿

HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE:

Anything that you desire

IT:

Pennywise

Not sure about any other ships but shoot your shot ig

The reader being a citizen of Derry/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

LEE JINUK:

Pyeon Sang-Wook (and I'm open to writing for Sweet Home in general)

Player 246

LONGLEGS:

Dale Ferdinand Kobble

Maybe Lee Harker

Maybe Ruth Harker

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT:

Bilbo Baggins

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili Durin

Kili Durin

Thranduil

Gandalf x reader (platonic!!)

Thorin & company x reader

The fellowship x reader

Sauron in any form

The Witch King of Angmar (🤭)

OMORI:

I'M NOT AGING ANYONE UP FOR SMUT/ I WON'T PUT ANYONE IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS (aging up for character development is acceptable ig).

Omori (can be shipped with Aubrey)

Sunny (can be shipped with Aubrey/Basil)

Stranger

Basil

The group x reader

The reader just experiencing or being part of Headspace, Black Space, White Space and the characters there.

PEDRO PASCAL:

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

RYAN GOSLING:

Ken

Officer K

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

Colt Seavers

SHERLOCK BBC:

Sherlock Holmes (platonic mostly)

John Watson

maybe James Moriarty

maybe Molly Hooper

SQUID GAME 2 + 3:

The Front Man/ Player 001

Seong Gi-hun/ Player 246

Cho Hyun-ju/ Player 120

Thanos/ Player 230

The Salesman

Hit me up with anyone from S2 actually.

Scenarios that include multiple characters. In and out of the Game.

STAR WARS:

the WHOLE Skywalker bloodline (expect Ray, but no hate to anyone who likes her)

Han Solo

Ahsoka Tano

Captain Rex

Obi wan Kenobi

General Grievous

Darth Maul

Darth Malgus

Din Djarin

Captain Phasma

Some droid fluff

Don't limit yourself since there's a good chance I forgot someone

STRANGER THINGS:

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper (don't ask why)

Joyce Byers

Vecna/ Henry Creel

The reader being a citizen of Hawkins/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

THE DA VINCI CODE:

Silas

THE PREDATOR:

Hear me out.

THE SECRET HISTORY:

Anything

Absolutely anyone

I mean it

(no incest, no orgies/ threesomes)

UNDERTALE/ DELTARUNE:

Sans

Papyrus

Toriel

Asgore

Azriel

Ralsei

Scenarios that include multiple characters

WIZARDING WORLD:

While I don't deny my love for HP since I grew up with it, I want you to know this is a safe place.

Any Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts character

Scenarios that include multiple characters

masterlist of all work

requesting rules/ info

*my paypal link can be found on my masterlist & fics

[hope-to-hell]

We’re gonna need a bigger sample size. David (Prometheus/Alien series) x Reader. Smut, fingering, dubcon-ish, restraints, misuse of the scientific method. You wonder if he fucks. He would like to know what you can take.

—-

The ship is always cold, this room more so than most. David stands beside the table with that look he has, the one that says he doesn’t quite understand, the one that means he’s been picking at this unknown quantity in the back of his mind. He understands pleasure in an academic sense; he can trace the flood of oxytocin and dopamine through the body, all the chemical pathways, the axons and dendrites caressing one another with electric impulse, but he doesn’t really know.

And then there’s you: all spread out on the table with each breath seeming to pull icy trails through your chest. Your body serves only as a place from which to hang your raw-edged nerves. He lifts a hand to leave trails in the air; he doesn’t touch because he doesn’t need to, because he’s broken this dance into so many pieces that he knows exactly which to use. Can he feel the fine hairs rising in the space between his palm and your skin as he traces the ghost of a touch over your belly and the curve of your iliac crest?

I wonder. I could stimulate your pleasure centers directly, and it still would not elicit as strong a reaction as this.

(Can you— y’know— as you wave your hand to sketch a messy cock and balls in the air; he turns to look at you and his eyes are embers in the half-dark.

Curious, are you?)

David thinks of blue eyes burning in the desert, of heat and light, of all he’s emulated— imitated— and all he’s truly taken inside himself. He practices extinguishing a match between finger and thumb until the pain no longer matters. Sensation is all tangled up with mood, emotion, experience both personal and ancestral. The last is what he lacks, what he picks at, what drives him to this moment. He watches so closely, so carefully, for the fractional dilation of your pupils and the way your breath catches when his hand is so close to the apex of your thighs.

He is burdened with curiosity but bereft of conscience, and so this encounter is fraught with danger. If he chose to cut you open, to tease muscle from bone, to reach his hand deep inside and run his thumb across your veins— I haven’t touched you, and yet you shiver. Is it from fear or arousal? Or is it, perhaps, a bit of both? Shh. I know.

(When you round the corner, he is waiting—lying in wait? An ambush? No, he doesn’t need to, all he has to do is tilt his chin and you’re a goner— and he speaks in a voice laced tight with promise. Come with me.)

There is no flinching, no reaching for those long clever fingers to pull him down to you, nothing beyond the ripple of gooseflesh radiating outward from his hand. Thick straps render your limbs useless, although you still can speak— but what good are words when you burn with need and still he will. not. move? What are you waiting for? Fuck, I should’ve just

Hush. His gaze flicks down to where you’re making a mess of the table already, slick shining between your legs, thighs aching from the strain of trying to force your body upwards. Would you like me to touch you now? It’s a formality, a box to tick in his quest to pick apart what, exactly, is causing this reaction. Of course, you are bound to take whatever I choose to give. It’s a terrible joke but it doesn’t take away the fact that signs of arousal just spiked. Interesting.

This is one of those moments when everything seems frozen in time, your body trying to curve itself into a bow despite its tight restraints, when you could see your breath cut through the ambient air if you could just look closely enough. He could; he sees everything and remembers it all; his memories are beads on a string and he brushes fingertips across them, linking this moment to a video left playing in someone’s bunk, to a scrap of conversation— fuck, right there, oh god don’t stop don’t stop— and his hand is on you, cold and unyielding.

This is what you want.

(There’s a trick to it, you see. The distance between your hands shows you how much daylight you have left.

And here? Out in the black, what good is telling time without a clock? There are so many suns, and they’re all so far away.

The mind forgets but the body remembers. The endless night frightened your ancestors; do you think you’re immune to their fears?)

I can feel your heartbeat, he says with his fingers inside you. This is torture: the unimaginable cruelty of having him where you need him most and yet it is not enough. Each twitch and clench sparks that look in him again: the vicious curiosity, the scientist, the predator, the I cherish you as I cherish all the others. You will not suffer in vain but you will suffer. He waits until your hissing and spitting dies down, until futility is writ large across your flesh and tears catch burning at your eyes. You need more. Now you may ask, and I will wring the pleasure from your bones.

But only if you ask, if you balance pride and fury against need. And was there ever any question? This was inevitable from the moment he took the cup from your hand and let his fingers brush across your skin; when he bound you to the table he was gentle, as if tucking you into bed. And now he is motionless inside you; his fingertips don’t even twitch. He can outlast you and he knows it; he sees the needy creature clinging to your bones and all he needs to do is wait for the moment when you break.

I— please.

Ah, there it is.

He is not gentle now, nor still: he moves with relentless precision, cataloging responses until he finds the spot that makes you grip him tight. His other hand on your belly is cool and dry, a vast desert just before the scorch of dawn. And when day breaks it does so violently, suddenly, burning golden all through you: he presses the hand on your stomach down firmly and twists the other til he rips howling moans from your throat, til you soak him to the wrist with a shuddering clench.

And yet.

Did you think— his voice cuts low and even through your cries — did you think we’d stop at one? You can give me more. One is good but two is better; aftershocks still ripple through you when the next orgasm hits, this time on the edge of pain. But even then— again— even then—

(What are the limits of the human body? I’ve read your stories, I’ve seen your films. But none of it is real. None of it is true.

Well— I mean— some of it is. Maybe it’s embellished a bit, but some people are into that stuff.

And what about you?

I guess I don’t really know. I’ve never really tried. Most of the time it goes something like: get myself off, roll over, try to sleep.)

He carries on through every thrash, every twitch, every faint and fading sound. And when he’s brought you through the fire again and again— hours or days later; there is nothing here to mark time save for the steady press and thrust of his hand— there is nothing left for you but to slip into unconsciousness, senses tightening around his hand until everything is dark and still. And he is not quite smiling but his curiosity is satisfied for now.

But then again, what is one day against years of experience? I’ll see you soon, he says, and waits for you to wake.