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wttcsms · 1 year

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these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

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highvern · 6 months

Text

Aphrodite

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: smut, friends to lovers, established relationship, fluff at the beginning

Warnings: bathroom sex, kissing, groping, fingering, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics but they’re both actually switches (Mingyu is a service top), cumshot, Mingyu is still obsessed with titties, hair pulling, choking (hand around throat but no breath play), doggy style, unprotected sex (not endorsed by author), praise kink and strength kink go burrrrrr, there's a little bit of fluff/angst at the beginning (care/comfort) because she had a hard day at work, porn with feelings

Length: ~3k

Note: Drunk Goggles couple's bathroom scene mentioned in Discovery! the first third is so cute i actually had to close my laptop and step away while editing it so please enjoy my brain rot lol. its implied reader is on birth control and Mingyu knows it but still wrap it before you tap it guys. This was drafted as "Champagne Confetti" but i couldn't post it with that title with a straight face

ALSO stream Mamamoo Wheein's new album In the Mood! Aphrodite was a huge inspiration for the sweeter parts of this fic

read more here

The knob of your bathroom cabinet is digging into Mingyu’s shoulder uncomfortably and his ass freezing on the hard tile, but neither register in his mind much. His sole focus is on listening to you vent about how shitty work was as you wash up behind the flimsy curtain only a few feet away.

“Oh and then she had the audacity to say I should have been more prepared for the meeting! As if she didn’t send me the info an hour before!” You babble, head popping out to look at him.

Mingyu tries and fails to stifle the laughter bubbling at the sight of your shampoo Mohawk.

“What a bitch!”

“Right?!” You move back into the spray and out of sight.

“She’s just mad because you’re better at her job than she is.”

“I wouldn’t be if she actually did her job.” You sigh.

“I’m sorry baby.”

“‘s not your fault Gyu.”

“Do you want me to beat her up?”

“Yeah, because sending my gigantic ass boy toy after her is gonna get her off my back.” You call, closing your eyes as foam rinses from your hair down your skin.

“The correct term is boyfriend.”

“The correct term is baby daddy.”

“You’re fucking nasty.”

“You love me.”

God, I do.

But it’s too early to say those words with the level of earnestness he feels so Mingyu bites his tongue.

Steam and lavender soap tickle his senses as you wash away the evidence of your previous distress. Your manager is number one on Mingyu’s incredibly short shit list.

Mingyu had barely waltzed through the door of your apartment after work, excited to spend the evening cuddled on the couch with a movie like you do every Thursday. He nearly shit himself when he found you sitting at the kitchen counter, tears staining your face and eyes rimmed red. You dove into his chest and cried for an over hour, unable to speak as wretched sobs escaped your throat. He’s never felt so helpless as he sat there, stroking your back as he held you, whispering gentle affirmations into your hair. It was his idea for you to hop in the shower once you calmed down enough to assure him you weren’t injured and “no, no one died.”

The entire time, Mingyu sat close by listening intently, chiming in occasionally with agreements. He hadn’t follow you into the stall, void of the desire to worsen your mood. Shared showers were not a favorite in this household. Either it ended after two minutes to move to the bed or one of you hopped out, annoyed that the other was hogging the hot water and leaving them in the cold. Mingyu wanted you to relax but the only way he could relax was to make sure you’re actually okay. Which is why he is planted on the ground near the door like a guard dog, keeping an eye on you in case the tears returned; numb butt and sore shoulder be damned.

The squeak of the faucet signals the end of your bathing, echoed by the ruffle of the curtain as you push it aside to exit the tub. He keeps his eyes trained on your face, a smile spreading at the glow radiating from the apples of your cheeks void of the earlier splotchy dullness. You already look a million times better than when he entered your home.

Mingyu is trying very hard to be a supportive boyfriend while you continue to rant; but it’s challenging when the actual woman of his dreams is standing only feet away, completely nude and soaking wet, skin flushed from scrubbing and glistening in the warm glow of the light above the mirror. It takes all his might to ignore the swell of your breast and gentle the sway of your hips, or the curve of your thighs as you stretch for your towel on the rack above the toilet. The movement sends droplets falling in staccato from your hair plastered against your head onto your shoulder before trailing down your front, tracing dizzying patterns across your skin. His very own Aphrodite, exiting the sea to fill his heart.

“I hope she gets fired soon. I know I didn’t look like an idiot in that meeting, it was all her.”

“No one thinks you’re an idiot.” He looks down at his hands playing with the cuff of his sweatshirt to distract himself from how you start twisting to towel off, body bending and stretching suggestively as you concentrate.

“She definitely does but who cares.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually.” You smile, towel wrapped around you snugly as you step away from the tub and towards him. “But I could still really use a hug.”

“I can do that.”

Mingyu jumps up from his place on the floor, beaming at the soft look on your face as he tangles you in his arms. He plants peck after peck across the crown of your wet hair, nose filling with the scent of your shampoo as he squeezes you against him tightly. The remaining moisture on your body is wicked away by the soft fabric of his sweater, covering him in wet spots along his front and down his arms.

“You’re the best.” You sign into his chest as he leaves a kiss on your hairline.

To distract himself from what he really wants to say, Mingyu blows a wet raspberry against your forehead.

“Nope! Never mind!” You squeal, trying in vain to break out of his strong grip. “Get away from me!”

“But baby you just said I was the best!” He counters, arms tighten to prevent you from wiggling lose.

“No, you’re gross and I hate you!”

“GASP.”

You can only roll your eyes at your boyfriend's dramatics.

“You hate me? I wipe your tears, clean up your snot, order us take out, and you hate me?” Voice rising in pitch, he gapes at you.

“You ordered take out?”

“Focus on me! I’m hurt. Devastated!”

“Oh no, what will I do?” You deadpan, but the twitch of your mouth betrays your amusement.

It’s a dangerous game given you’re still locked in his arms and his penchant for being over the top.

“I’m deeply deeply wounded missy. So there’s only one way I’ll forgive you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Kiss?” He says with puppy dog eyes and puckered lips that makes him look like a fish.

“Oh my god!” You cackle at his ridiculousness.

“Oh, there she goes again! Do you not care about me at all?”

His question is punctuated by him collapsing against you and fake crying. Laughter bubbles in your chest like champagne. Mingyu makes you feel better without even trying.

“Alright, come here you big baby. Let me give you a kiss.”

Matching smiles meet in a sweet kiss. In your relationship, one kiss frequently becomes ten or twenty so there's no shock when you keep planting pecks against his lips before moving to tickle them across his cheek, brow, and tip of his nose. Mingyu is all smiles and giggles under your lips as you move back to his mouth.

The short kisses become heated swiftly. You wipe the smile off his face easily enough, thanking the universe it takes almost nothing to get Mingyu started (not that you’re any better). You’re impressed he didn’t jump you when you stepped out of the shower in all your naked glory. Honestly, you’re a little disappointed he didn’t. But now with your towel unraveling from your tussle, pressed against his solid frame as you nip his lips, you know it’s a matter of seconds before Mingyu crowds against you and makes you feel a lot better.

Like clockwork, a simple hum in the back of your throat paired with your nails trailing down his chest sets Mingyu off. He turns with you still in his hold, lifting you up and depositing you on the cool marble of the countertop, pushing your legs apart to make room for himself. Clumsy hands push your towel away, giving him access to play with your chest. When the nail of his thumb scratches your nipple, you arch against him with a sigh. The shift breaks your lips apart and Mingyu wasted no time diving for your throat.

Apparently tonight is one of the few nights Mingyu wants to be a little more demanding with you. The hand not plucking your chest moves the tangle itself amongst the wet hair at the crown of your skull, giving a firm tug that has your spine arching, stretching your neck with a whine to give more space to bite along your throat. Teeth scratch against the cords of muscle, but his tongue soothes the abused skin immediately after; even when he’s rough, he treats you like a princess. You feel yourself clenching around nothing at the maddening combination of sensations.

“Please, Gyu”

“Please, what?” He asks, not budging an inch from where he latches to your collarbone.

“Touch me.” You whimper.

His mouth replaces the hand pinching your chest, sucking your abused nipple into his blistering mouth. The hand that was on your chest, skates down between your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, letting your foot find purchase on the handle of the cabinet next to you to spread you wide.

He starts slowly, middle finger parting your downy lips to trace from your entrance to your mound. The calloused pad of his finger nothing more than a gossamer touch against your heat, maddening as it teases you. Curling your hips upwards, you give him more space to circle your entrance before he dips his middle and ring finger inside, thumb stretching to caress your swollen clit.

“So wet already.”

“If you had a boyfriend that treats you how you treat me, then you’d understand why.” You pant into his hair.

“Think I understand plenty.” He replies, moving your hand to caress his dick where it sits tented in his shorts.

The bathroom is filled with shameless whines and puffs of breath as you work each other up. You’ve successfully gotten a hand into his underwear, fisting the head of his cock in a tight rhythm just how he likes. The other busies itself scratching down his back as he preps you for what's to come by twisting two fingers inside you, heel of his hand grinding against your clit with every thrust.

“Need you inside.” You whisper into his mouth.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you?”

“Mhmm,” your tone is verging on pathetic but his reaction washes away any embarrassment.

“Then be a good girl and turn around.”

Mingyu steps back, giving you space to quickly jump off the counter to turn your back to him. He busies himself with removing his sweater while you settle on your elbows, ass pushed out in front of him teasingly. It gives him pause, easily distracted by the arch of your spine and the subtle jiggle of flesh as you rock from one foot to another. You watch in the mirror as he blinks lazily, using one hand to push down his pants while the other cups a cheek, squeezing it in his palm. When his shorts are finally pooled around his ankles, he steps closer to let his length rest on your ass.

You can feel his leaking tip brush your tailbone, leaving a faint trace of dampness across your skin as you roll on to the balls of your feet to grind back on him. The rigid velvet of his shaft has arousal dripping down your thighs crudely.

You watch his face with rapt attention in the mirror. He’s hypnotized by how his cock looks pressed snug against your rear, resting hot and heavy in the valley of your cheeks. His throat bobs with a harsh swallow; hands wrapping around your sides, lazily tracing the curve between the bottom of your ribs to your hip bones. Mingyu’s hips move of their own volition, rutting across your ass as his cock continues to drool on your skin.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Come on baby, I had a hard day. Need you to make me feel better.”

Mingyu's eyes find yours in the mirror. You know the pout on your lips will get you everything you want. Mingyu knows it too.

“Condom,” he prompts.

There’s a stash in the drawer to your left but Mingyu is fully aware he lacks the will power to reach over and grab one when his hands are filled with something so much more enticing right now.

As you shake your head with a mischievous quirk of lips, he’s pretty sure you’re playing a cruel joke on hum.

“Shit,” He curses. “Are you serious?”

“Fuck me, Gyu.”

Palming his cock, Mingyu recites a silent prayer that he doesn’t blow his load immediately. This is the first time he gets to fuck you raw and goddamit if it’s short lived. Tracing his tip through the mess between your legs, he collects your arousal to lube him up. He can feel how soaking you are at the idea of him fucking you without the barrier of latex, inner thighs smeared with your essence. Hopefully you’ll come as quickly as he probably will.

“You’re so dirty, letting me stuff you with my cock like this. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you gasp when he nudges your clit. “Your dirty girl.”

“That’s right, my dirty girl.” He growls as he pushes inside you.

The first inch has you both closing your eyes, vision filled with stars. As nice as he feels bare inside you, it’s the mental is getting you off more than the physical. Every time Mingyu stretches you out on his cock is a treat, but the knowledge that the flared head of his cock pressing deep inside is leaving traces of his seed along your walls has you breathless. You’ve never let anyone else fuck you like this and a part shielded in your chest hopes he’s that last to.

Mingyu is more or less losing his shit behind you. The scorching wet clamp of your silky inner muscles that he’s only felt on his tongue or fingers is better than he could ever imagine. Your pussy gushing to coat his cock as he splits you open has him on the verge of tears. When he’s settled in, your ass pressed firmly to his pelvis, you wiggle against him.

Mingyu responds by pressing forward, pinning your hips to the counter harshly to prevent you from moving again. You’re clenching around him so hard, it takes all of his self control not to cum.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You mewl.

You’re really not helping.

“Calm down.” He grits out, both to himself and you.

“Need it.”

“Oh you need it?” He chides, delivering a bruising thrust.

You reward him with a sharp whine.

“Calm down baby, I'll give it to you. Always do, don't I?”

One hand circles the base of your throat, not squeezing; just resting the curve against his palm as his thumb trails along the side of your neck. It stops your breath anyway. But then Mingyu leans down to press his chest with your back, face coming into view right over your shoulder to whisper in your ear while looking you in the eye through the mirror.

“But you gotta be a good girl and spread it for me.”

You heave at his words, afraid you might pass out. Hands scramble to grab your own ass cheeks, pulling the flesh apart so he has a clear view of your pussy sucking him in as he starts curling his hips inside you.

The way he’s fucking you is vulgar. Hand wrapped around your throat as the other moves back into your hair, your own brushing the tops of his thighs as he cants against your ass, balls slapping against your pussy with each thrust. Mingyu leans back to watch himself disappear into your cunt, pulling you up into an arch. The feel without a condom is melting his brain but the visual absence of latex is doing incredible damage to his psyche too.

You both are a mess of sweet whines and rough groans, bathroom echoing with the clapping of skin and wet squelch of your full pussy. Breaking his focus on the way your entrance stretches to accommodate his thick cock splitting you open, Mingyu looks in the mirror to watch the way your tits bounce in time with his hips; your mouth open in a silent scream, eyes misty with delirium as you watch him watching you.

“Feel so fucking good like this, shit.” He pants. “Hear how wet you are? Fucking love it don’t you?”

Your head falls forward pathetically, only stopped by the palm still resting around your throat. When Mingyu gives a tentative squeeze, you whimper a quiet agreement. He watches as you force a hand between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles to push you closer to the edge.

“Gonna come,” you whine.

“Yeah?” Mingyu asks, excitement clear as day. He tilts his hips to fuck deeper, stretching you just a little bit wider on his cock to send you home.

“Fuck!” You sob, tensing as your orgasm washes over you.

Every muscle in your body ignites, squeezing impossibly tighter as electricity snaps through your nerves, licking your veins and exploding your field of vision in a blinding white. Like a taunt bow string being released, you curl in on your chest as you clench around your boyfriend’s cock, gushing down shaky thighs. Your free hand grips the edge of the sink, holding on for dear life as you twitch in his hold.

“Where do you want it?” Mingyu cries, two seconds behind you and using his last functioning brain cell to not piss you off by assuming he can finish inside despite wanting nothing more. “Gotta tell me where you want, Y/N.”

“On me, wanna feel you on me!” You cry, still playing with your clit as you pry open teary eyes to watch Mingyu from the mirror.

A bright red blush spreads across his chest and up his neck, glistening with beads of sweat and condensation from the steam clogging the air. His bottom lip swollen from where it's locked between clenched teeth, neck straining and biceps bulging from his harsh grip on your body. He has enough sense of reality to slip the hand around your throat into your hair, gathering the strands in a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of the way of the mess he’s about to make.

He pulls out with seconds to spare against a tsunami of pleasure that begins to surge through his body, beginning in his balls and crashing outward to swamp his nerves. It ripples across his skull, raising goosebumps in its wake as it ebbs through his blood stream. Mingyu’s abdomen flexes as he fists his cock still slick with your combined arousal over your ass; thick streaks of his seed rushing forward. You feel a hefty rope land between your shoulder blades, the sticky heat intoxicating as it trickles down your back. A few drops sputter on the dip of your spine and your hand still spreading you wide, decorating you in his own diamonds.

Mingyu can’t help the way he stares at your hole, obsessed with how you clench around nothing like you’re missing something. He wishes he was watching you squeeze around his dick, his cum dripping out of you with each pulse of muscle. Maybe someday he’ll get to.

As your orgasms subside, weariness circles on the edge of your senses. Two sets of eyes flutter shut, chests heaving and hearts beating in time. Unwinding his hand from your hair, Mingyu lets it gently rest next to your hip on the counter, preventing him from collapsing against you and into the sticky residue he’s left. He can’t feel his legs, head empty of coherent thought. Unconsciously, his thumb traces the dimple at the base of your spine, the gentle caress grounding him to his body.

The quiet of the bathroom is only disturbed by the hum of the overhead fan. You both are spent, muscles weak and nerves fried. Occasionally a deep breath interrupts but it's peaceful as you bask in each other's presence.

“Oh my god,” you pant, breaking his trance.

“Hmm?”

“How did you get cum on the mirror?”

#svthub #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #dghe couple #🫡 highvern #not seeing heaven for this one I fear

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bimb0fy · 2 months

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— 01; mender

pairings; luke castellan x hephaestus!reader

summary; you always were a mender, a creator. yet your knowledge of swords, not the best, so imagine to your surprise, the luke castellan asked you for a sword, not your brother alex who always exceeded in the task.

warnings; nothing!!

wordcount; 825 words

a/n; can u guys tell one of my hyperfixasions is watching documentaries about how blacksmiths do shit 🤩

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ!!

-> You were a creator, being blessed by your father, hephaestus, and gaining fire abilities, a once in a hundred year miracle, you were instantly crowned favorite.

Not that any of your siblings complained, you were a Saint in their eyes.

So imagine to your surprise, when the Luke Castellan specifically requested for you to make him a new sword.

Even though you were your father's favorite, you weren't the best sword mender, you exceeded in mending and blacksmithing obviously, but your brother Alex, he had the honor of best sword mender.

"So, can you make one for me?" Luke asked you as you held the bag of chips in your hand, a foot on the table as you sat comfortably on the chair, eyes widened.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." You stuttered as you stood up. "You sure you want me? I mean Alex prays for you to ask him to make you a sword, he'd probably drop Mr. D's orders for you."

"Yeah, I want you." Luke smirked as you smiled. You tied your hair into a ponytail, taking your goggles as you raised your sleeves. "So, I always wanted to know how you make swords."

"Cmon I'll show you." You smiled, throwing an apron towards him with a matching pair of goggles.

"Twins." He joked as he put them on, you laughed as he stood by the station. You walked towards the cabinets, taking out the steel as you plopped it down to your station.

You had your own station in its own room, with huge windows and a rather delicate decoration, nothing you'd expect for a child of Hephaestus.

You went ahead to heat up the steal, Lule stared at awe as you held the metal, pressing on it as you heated it up, grabbing the hammer to shape the dagger once it was done.

The clacking louder then usual as you knew Luke held many swords, he'd instantly know a faulty one against a perfect weapon. Watching it men, you repeated until you deemed it presentable.

You dipped it into the oil, waiting for a few minutes before you took it out, the steam escaping as you placed it onto the desk.

Luke stared at the sword, bending down to look at it at eye level. "Isn't it supposed to be sharper?" Luke whispered as you looked at him, you couldn't hear him as you already began mending the handle.

"What?" You asked him as he smiled at you.

"No I just said its perfect." Luke smiled as you nodded, a smile shifting to your lips but you knew he wanted to say something else, you took off your goggles, grabbing the dagger as you looked at it.

"It isn't sharp enough, huh that's weird." You mumbled as you heated the blade once more, taking the hammer to fix your error as Luke sighed in relief. "You knew. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I mean, it's your territory, not mine." Luke shrugged. A lie. An obvious lie.

"Whatever you say Castellan." You smiled, as soon as you fixed your error and finished the handle, you stuck the two together, double checking as Luke leaned in beside you, looking at the sword.

"It's bigger then usual." Luke mentioned as you hummed in agreement.

"Thought you might need an upgrade. Go ahead, try it." You smiled at him as he nodded, he took the sword, holding it into his hand as he threw it to the other repeatedly.

"It's lighter, how did you do that?" Luke asked you, you winked in reply.

"It's my little secret." You smirked as he smiled. He spun it in his hands, looking between the blade and the handle, noting something carved on the handle. "It's your initials, and a little design I thought suited you."

He stared at the hoop, smiling as he took out his pendant from his shirt, it was tbe same design. "Thank you, really." He smiled at you as you shrugged it off with a smile.

"It's no thing." You smiled. You packed cleaned the area, Luke assisting you before taking off the apron and goggles. He took the sword, smiling as he held it before bidding you goodbye.

You went along to your cabin, taking a shower before going to lunch.

You sat down next to Alex, he was probably your best friend, he, no matter what, was always there for you. "A little birdie told me you mended a sword for the Luke Castellan. My my what luck you have." Alex joked as you rolled your eyes, smiling as you ate your mac and cheese.

"Hey mender. Thanks for the sword, it works like a charm." Luke winked at the last part, you smiled before tucking the hair behind your ear.

"It's no big deal. I'm glad you like it." You smiled at him as he raised his leg onto the place beside you, leaning in.

"I'll see you at the bonfire mender."

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #hephaestus #cabin 9 #percy jackson and the olympians #fanfic #x reader

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ghouljams · 1 month

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ghoul

ghoul you keep hitting the mark on every one of my kinks

monstrous size differences, seeing ur person as holy, ovul-

its like ur in my brain get out of there before u see something that starts turning these rough military men into men that fear what i want to do to them (the erotica of cyborgs, mechs and their maintenance handler just DOES something to me. someone just turning my screws and fixing my internal wires while i look down at them feeling up my most vulnerable parts. my engineer knowing every external and internal piece of me, my repairman knowing exactly which metal plates are bothering me and which screws need to be tightened more often and which parts i won’t say need fixing but he knows, i want to be known wholly and entirely by someone who can fix me and make me into their own theseus’ ship)

The eroticism of the machine.... thinking about android!Ghost....

He always seems to be hanging around when you're working on other droids or laboring with mechs. He checks over various weapons while you sit crosslegged on the tiled floor surrounded by neatly organized plates and screws. You can feel his eyes on you, but every time you look up at him, he's studying a trigger switch or tipping a gun barrel this way and that. You try to keep your attention on the open chest cavity in front of you. Your fingers trail over wires and trace circuits, looking for the too tight screws and miss-laid paths. It's delicate work, work that takes years of practice to get good at even with natural skill.

You twist to check the diagnostics window running on your bulky tablet, the cords running between it and one of your favorite droids humming with electric life. Binary flickers over the screen, replaced by strings of code as the machine parses and translates subroutines and operating systems. You squint at the glowing green letters, eyes flicking through code as you push your finger against the screen to scroll back up. You lean closer to the open cavity, flick your safety goggles down as you turn your attention back to your hands.

"I don't want to have to shut you down," You tell the droid, "So let me know if your servos start locking up." The droid gives you a thumbs up from their position on the floor.

"Isn't it safer shuttin' 'em down?" Ghost hums from the other side of the room. You ignore him, flicking the spark on your torch until it lights. You need to rewire the auxiliary movement board for the right leg, maybe reprogram the routines that are making it twitchy. You doubt anyone else noticed this bot starting to drag its foot when it walked, but you did.

"Five doesn't like being shut off," You explain, heating the metal connecting the wires to their "hip", "Says the lost time cuts productivity." Which is as close as you've ever heard a bot get to expressing an opinion. Even then saying they don't "like" being shut off is a stretch. Machines don't "like" or "dislike" anything, they simply are. You prod at the loosened wires with a pair of tweezers, pulling them from their places and examining the frayed ends. Definitely need replacing.

"Suppose I can understand that," Ghost grumbles. Again you ignore him. You don't know what he's doing, trying to bait you into a conversation or engage your curiosity, two things you can't afford when you're doing detail work. You solder the other end of the wires, rolling your shoulders to try and get some of the tightness out of them. You really should work on your posture, you're sure you look like a shrimp curled over your work, but you need the leverage.

You sit back, inspecting the freed wires, mentally tallying their length and checking the screen readouts. You set about snipping and stripping new lengths of wire, push a few buttons on your little screen, and feel your shoulders hike up to your ears as you lean to get the new parts installed. You think part of your fascination with machines comes from how repairable they are. You've long since come to terms with the fact that detaching your shoulders and giving them a good scrub down isn't actually possible. Not unless you want to look into cybernetics for yourself, and with the grade of parts the military offers you think you're better off eu natural.

"Still good five?" You ask, soldering in the new wires, you glance at the screen, watching the routines for speech zip across the green.

"Yes."

You smile to yourself. It looks like everything is running normally up top, that's reassuring. You weren't sure if this was a systematic issue or a parts issue, never know 100% until you open up whoever you're working on. You mentally scroll through your project list as you run the wires from the metal "hip" to the central data column. You scratch your tweezers against a bit of flashing, frowning. That shouldn't be there. You wave your torch over the distorted metal, and trying to find the defect. You hear a soft 'click, click, click' like nails flicking against each other as you heat the area.

You're jerked back by your collar as the bot jerks, its defensive system snapping like a bear trap over its open chest. Your heart hammers in your chest, your tools still tightly clenched in your hands, and your breath coming quick with adrenaline fueled fear. Ghost hauls you up to your feet like picking up a kitten, all titanium and inhuman strength getting you to standing. He leaves you to swipe the repair pad from the floor, the wires stringing it to the android shredded as cleanly as your neck would have been.

"Still stubborn enough to get yourself killed," He grumbles, shaking his head, the red glow of his cameras seems almost disappointed under the white skull paint. He tosses you the pad and you fumble to catch it. "Inter-system problem, shut 'em down." It's an order, his voice carrying all the authority it should as your superior officer.

You nod quickly, swallow some of the dryness in your mouth, and punch new numbers onto your little computer. "Um, thanks," You manage, watching him re-assemble his rifle with practices precision.

"Don't mention it." He replies, and you get the feeling he means that as an order too. Don't mention it, don't go spreading around that he saved your neck. Don't try to thank him again and he shoulders the rifle and pushes past you out of the landing bay.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #android!ghost #cyberpunk au #mechanic!reader

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backwzzds · 6 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ RORONOA ZORO AS A FATHER…

zoro would be one those fathers that most people assume would be terrible, but unsurprisingly, he’s very good with kids, as told canonically.

he’ll only have one daughter. he can’t handle anymore brats.

when your daughter was born, he’d bought up possibly naming her after his late childhood best friend. you knew how much she meant to him, so it was no problem making sure your daughter carried on her name, and hopefully her future dream. roronoa kuina.

lots of people assume zoro’s a strict dad, but most days, he’s pretty chilled back.

he came off as not having any interest in learning how to do kuina’s type 3-4 hair, but when you secretly caught him watching a youtube video as he practiced on one of your wig mannequins you knew he wanted to learn from the start

when kuina’s a toddler, you teach him how to do simple styles on her hair. to detangle from the bottom, always make sure her hair was moisturized, and just learn the small things about her. like how she was tenderheaded—something she inevitably inherited from you.

he’ll take her to get braids from the african aunties whenever you’re busy or stuck at work. kuina, already knowing the routine would sit on the chair and zoro’s big body would be squeezed between two parents talking on the phone for nearly nine hours straight, occasionally heading out to grab some food for himself and kuina. the things he would do for that girl.

kuina would be in the big chair swinging her little feet as she watched youtube video’s on her daddy’s phone. she’d always smile at the fact that you were his lock screen and she was his home screen—a picture of him coddling with her to sleep when she was just a baby. lord knows how much them two love they sleep!

he’d be so overprotective, he would teach kuina her parents’ full name, address, emergency phone numbers, and everything in between by the time she’s 6. no stranger would ever had a chance to mess with the daughter of roronoa zoro.

despite his off putting (and quite rude) personality, he’d be the best one to give advice. only to you and his little kuina though. most wouldnt even consider it advice, but baby kuina always loved it when her daddy told her what he thinks she should do in a troubling situation.

“papa what do you think i should do?” the little girl frowns. “i really think i hurt the girl’s feelings. but i didn’t mean to!”

zoro pops his one good eye open from its closed resting position as he sat on the couch with his arms folded. “are you sorry?”

kuina gives him solemn eyes and nods her head. “really sorry.”

with a quick whit, zoro answers straight, “apologize. don’t make the situation about you. she’s the one you hurt, make sure she realizes that you know that.”

kuina allows her father’s words to sink in her brain in order to fully process everything he’d said. when a bright idea comes to her head, she wraps her arms around her father and places a wet kiss on his cheek, yelling, “thank you papa!” before skipping off to make amends with her friend.

would sueprise teachers and parents when he shows up to some PTA’s alone. you were caught up at work, so zoro took up parental volunteering opportunities on his own. of course, he only did these things for you and kuina, so he didn’t care that the single parents were eye goggling him with lust. not when kuina bragged to all her friends about how cool her dad was.

zoro tries to create an emotion-based home. he doesn’t want kuina growing up in a cold home like you and him did, so he always made it his best to publicly express his emotions or whatever he was feeling at home. he made sure kuina saw him love on you in order to see and know that her parents always loved each other—not just for show—and made sure that she knew it was okay to express her own emotions because she was a lot like him, more than he’d have liked.

when he catches kuina stiffile in her cry about him having to miss a chunk of her school play due to a very heinous and reaosnable excuse (traffic was a bitch), he pulls her off to the side and allows her space to express how she feels.

“you can cry. it’s okay to cry, marimo.” zoro kneels down to kuina’s height as she hangs her head low, too embarrassed to look up and reveal her tears. the one bond they had, was him calling her marimo because if you looked at the both of them—they were damn near identical twins. you were convinced your genes didn’t even fucking try to make it to the egg on time. only he could call her that though. that was their thing.

zoro gives her a genuine apology. he hated seeing his pretty princess cry, but he knew she had to do it. “i’m sorry. i got here as quick as i could, hm? i’d never miss anything about you on purpose.”

at the sound of her father’s soft voice, kuina looks up and wipes away some of her tears. “you promise papa?” her voice is sultry as you wipe at your back, heart warming at the beautiful wholesome interaction between the two.

behind zoro’s back were a mini bouquet of flowers and candy. “course i do kid. c’mere, i’m gonna make it up to you.”

lord knows zoro wasn’t the best father. he didn’t even think he was a good father—this was all new to him. but sometimes, he’d liked to believe that what he was doing in the present was enough to give kuina the future he never got to have.

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐#dad!zoro #one piece dads #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x black reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x chubby reader #zoro x black reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x chubby reader #zoro imagine #one piece imagine #one piece zoro

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jellitchi · 2 months

Text

varigo lovely night animatic

i made this in a sickly haze.... i uploaded her to youtube as well feel free to check it out. under the cut is a Huge Ramble abt sum context / what happens In My Mind... also their Fancy ballroom fits n whatever

yk how theres a ball/fancy party or smth? yeah i needed stupid designs so i cranked these out might return and color them but i basically based varian n hugos design off of these just dressed down...

Anyways.

uhm i might write a Whole fic abt this with Oomf but uhm.

this takes place during the events of vat7k about a year after varian initially left, he returns to corona w his friends to find the library and rapunzel and eugene throw him a surprise birthday party. and in true disney character fashion, something horrible happens on his birthday. the gang gets caught witnessing / overhearing plans to assassinate the princess tonight. or maybe its gonna b a murder mystery party gone awry- havent decided. the group splits into two groups, the detectives and the protectors. yong and nuru are the detectives, theyre looking for evidence they can use to prove this has been planned for a long time. hugo n varian r tasked w making sure rapz n eugene done die sum horrible death as they hang out at the party. did i mention the party is The royal ball. so everyone is in stuffy/fancypants fits.

the whole running gag was gonna b rapunzel and eugene having like fifty near death experiences n its always like, Unknowingly. and hugo and varian r stressed out of their mind.

the reason varian n hugo r on Protector duty is coz theyre like Uhm. we're better at Improvising stuff. We can curve this and try n get the Killer to mess up and leave a trail for nuru n yong to go after.

anyways this animatic takes place a bit after like fifty attempts (cartoon ass flower pot almost crashes on their head, they watch someone spike their drinks and hugo runs over and drinks them both followed by an antidote varian just made, they walk through an archway and just barely miss the guillotine positioned above their head okay you get it just Silly cartoonish methods of assassination)

A Lovely Night takes place after Most of that so theyre very tired, the two get locked onto a balcony and r forced to kinda js Watch rapz n eugene hang out. varian takes a seat n is trying to sleuth out whos tryna kill his sister, he has an imaginary cork board w strings. hugo is kinda like "mann theyre kinda cute tgt. see two ppl locked on a balcony alone under the night sky would consider this romantic, goggles." n then Lovely Night!

uhm and the afterwards i think theres a figure approaching eugene and rapunzel so the two literally make a makeshift rope and throw themselves down the balcony to save them but boom they played into the assassinators plan! they were tired of varian and hugo getting in the way so they were js gonna kill em too. n then this is when rapunzel n eugene step in, n save them yeah and then they tell them everything and all is well and good and the assassins r behind bars...! Segment end....

#varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #varigo #varian vat7k #varian tts #hugo vat7k #tangled the series #varian tangled #fanart #lizzysart

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nahoney22 · 9 days

Note

Hey bestie! I love your work and as I've gotten to know you better, you've been an amazing friend ❤️

I was wondering if you could do some hurt/comfort/whump with f!reader x Tech! Maybe they have crash landed or been captured together or something. Perhaps they don't necessarily get along with each other but this situation forces them to work together and they discover that maybe the other isn't so bad. ❤️ Thanks!

Crash Landed 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Tech X Female Reader

word count: 5.9k

Prompts: none

Summary: After you and Tech crash land in a remote Jungle, the two of you need to put your heads together and work as a team. Which is sometimes easier said than done.

warnings: Hurt, Angst and Comfort Whump Trope, Mentions of Injury to Reader and Tech, reader has a fear of blood, Kinda Enemies to Lovers, Reconciliation, Talks about Feelings, Huddling for Warmth, Heated First Kiss, Female Reader. Not proofread.

authors note: I love this idea! I hope I did it justice. And by the word count, clearly I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for being and amazing friend @arctrooper69 🩶

You awaken, dazed and confused, your head heavy as your eyes adjust to the dim, smoke-filled surroundings. What's that smell? Is that... smoke? What happened?

Your body aches with every movement as you manage to sit up with a hefty groan, feeling the weight of gravity pull at your limbs. Rubbing your eyes with your hands to focus, you realise that everything is on its side, the walls of the shuttle caved in, sparks flying from broken control panels. What a mess. But, you're sure you were not alone before this happened.

“Tech?” you call out, your voice croaky before you start coughing, as if your lungs had filled up with smoke.

No reply. “Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” you mutter to yourself as panic sets in, the memories flooding back. The mission, the Imperial's, crashing. Yes, that’s it. You crash-landed. But where? And where was Tech?

Luckily, your thoughts are answered as a torch shines in the distance, followed by loud clattering as if objects were being moved. You squint through the smoke, trying to ignore the acrid scent of burning metal. “Ah, there you are,” Tech says as he comes into view, his armor scratched, and his goggles a little skewed on his head.

“What happened?” you ask as he approaches you, another spluttering cough escaping your lips.

“If you take a look around, it will become apparent that we have crashed,” he replies. Ah yes, still a pain in the neck even after both of you nearly died.

You and Tech had rarely seen eye to eye. Since you joined the squad months ago, he always seemed to be on top of you, trying to prove you wrong or point out mistakes. It was tiresome. And now, unfortunately, you were stuck with him.

Rolling your eyes, you were in no mood for his tone and began to stand. However, as soon as you did, your leg gave way, your knees slamming to the floor. A cry of pain escaped you, making Tech look up from his cracked datapad, his eyes widening with slight concern. “Are you injured?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled in reply, stretching out your legs to assess the damage, but you didn’t see anything at first. It wasn’t until Tech crouched down in front of you that he spotted it.

“You have a laceration on your calf,” he said, his voice calm but concerned, inspecting the wound closely, and you did a double-take at his words.

“W-What? Is it bad?” You tried to hide the panic in your voice, but if there’s one thing you hated, it was blood.

Tech didn’t reply straight away, his eyes inspecting the wound closely, but your nerves began to eat away at you. “Tech, is it bleeding?” You asked quickly, your chest heaving as the fear started to creep in.

“Yes,” he confirmed, not making eye contact with you before he stood again, “I shall look for a medkit among this rubble. Stay here.” Well, it’s not like you had anywhere to go anytime soon anyway.

You wanted to call out to him, you wanted him to stay with you, but that would be inviting him to babysit you. Just because you were scared didn’t mean you wanted Tech to take care of you, which he probably would not do anyway.

Luckily, he wasn’t gone long and returned with a battered medkit. Some vials were smashed inside, and some tools were of no use, but you were glad that the bandages were untarnished. You had to look away as he started to dress your leg, cutting away the loose fabric to your pants before he skillfully wrapped it up. “That should do for now. Can you stand? We need to get out of here as it wouldn't surprise me if this shuttle imploded at any minute.”

Comfort was not his strong suit, clearly.

“I’ll try,” you began to haul yourself up your feet, but again, you were too weak. “No, no, no, I can’t.” As you were about to fall once again, Tech tucked himself under your arm, a hand steady on your waist as he kept you up.

“I will have to carry you.”

“No!” You squeaked. No way in hell were you going to let him carry you around. No way you wanted to appear more of a burden than you already are.

He raised an eyebrow, unmoved by your objection. “This is not open to debate. You can not put weight on your leg.”

With a frustrated sigh, you relented. “Alright, fine.”

With a wince of pain shooting up your leg, Tech manages to slip his arm around your neck, hoisting you over his shoulder with little effort. Each step he makes sends a jolt of unbearable pain through your leg, but you grit your teeth, holding back any sign of distress, more focused on figuring out how the two of you will get out of this mess.

You escape the shuttle, and the scorching sun immediately washes over you, its heat oppressive and suffocating. The air is humid and sticky. Great.

"So, where are we?" you ask awkwardly, still draped over his shoulder as he trudges onward.

"Uncertain," he replies, which does nothing to ease your nerves.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally sets you down on some dry grass. The sun beats down, forcing you to shield your eyes with your hand as you survey your surroundings. From the looks of it, you’re stranded in a jungle, with a vast expanse of open water stretching out before you. You could be literally anywhere.

“I suggest we find shelter, food, and a water source promptly. Since you are in no state to do anything, this task falls upon me,” he says, not once meeting your gaze as he speaks.

"Are you trying to blame me for hurting my leg? If I'm not mistaken, Tech, you were the one who pushed us into that shuttle," you retort, anger bubbling over.

"I am not blaming you, although if it was not for your mistake on the mission I would not have had to intervene." He trails off, not seeming to care at the dirty looks being sent his way. "I am merely stating facts." He says simply, tucking his datapad into his pouch before glancing down at you.

Deciding to keep your mouth shut for now, you refrain from arguing, knowing it won’t solve anything. Instead, you let Tech take the lead because, as much as you hate to admit it, he's right. You are in no state to do anything at the moment.

Tech leaves you alone for a while, giving you one of his blasters as a precaution before returning around half an hour later, announcing he found a suitable place to set up camp. You simply nod before glancing over at the crashed shuttle. “Is there anything we can salvage from that at least?” you ask aloud, drawing Tech’s attention back to you before casting a glance over at the debris.

“Perhaps. But we will have to be quick-." Before he can finish his thoughts, a sudden explosion rips through the air as the shuttle suddenly erupts into a burst of flames, sending debris flying in all directions. You both watch in shock as the flames engulf the wreckage, leaving nothing salvageable. Never mind.

Once Tech had led you to a secluded spot under the protective canopy of towering trees. With careful movements, you managed to shift your weight onto your knees, the pain radiating from your leg causing you to bite back a wings of pain.

“You are doing it wrong.” As you went ahead and started to make a fire, Tech’s unsolicited advice on fire-building techniques went in one ear and out the other. Survival instincts was one of your specialties after all and so you ignored him as as you gathered dry twigs and leaves, arranging them meticulously into a makeshift pyre.

As Tech continued his lecture on the ‘correct way’ to build a fire, you struck the flint, the spark igniting a blaze that danced and crackled life. A triumphant smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as Tech fell silent, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows on the thick backdrop of the jungle.

“As you have accomplished the fire, all we need now is some edible food and water," Tech remarked and you hummed in slight agreement.

Carefully, you leaned back and against a sturdy boulder for support as you turned your attention to Tech, whose fingers deftly navigated his datapad. "Do you think you’ll be able to contact the others?" you inquired softly, wanting to hear good news right now.

Tech's brow furrowed in concentration as he tinkered with the device, the soft glow of the cracked screen illuminating his features in the darkness. "If I can get my device to work properly and salvage the shuttle… then possibly. But…" His voice trailed off, uncertainty lingering in the air.

"You have doubts?" you pressed, concerned lacing your words as you watched him shift uneasily in his spot.

“Yes,” he says as he stands, tucking his datapad away again, “I have my doubts.”

You both fall into silence, something quite rare from Tech as he was always chattering away about something. But for now, he was quiet. Deep in thought. A part of you wished you knew what he was thinking, wondering what was happening in that marvelous mind of his and if he had thought about what would happen if you two were never found which was a reoccurring thought in yours.

“I will be back soon,” he speaks up, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“Where are you going?” You ask, a little too quickly. But truthfully, you didn’t want to be on your own right now. Yet you didn’t want him to know that.

He watches you almost tentatively before saying, “I need to gather provisions. I will not be long.”

You didn’t protest as you watched him walk away, disappearing through the trees as nightfall approached. Sighing softly to yourself, you sat lost in thought, the flickering flames casting shifting shadows across your face as you think back to all the things you should have done on that mission. Perhaps if you didn’t let your pride get the better of you, you wouldn’t have to sit wondering when Tech will return and if either of you will make it out of here.

You don’t even remember falling asleep last night but you do remember waking up to the chill that had kept you shivering throughout the night despite sleeping by the crackling fire.

As you awaken to the gentle warmth of the morning sun filtering through the dense foliage above, a stark contrast to last night, with a heavy sigh, you sit up. You groan as your body feels more fatigued and worn out than before. Nausea washes over you as you groggily inspect your leg, the sight of the dried and bloodied bandage from the previous day making your stomach churn. Obviously, you'll need to tend to it again.

“Will you need my assistance or are you capable of tending to your own wound today?” Tech's voice cuts through the quiet morning air, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. It's always hard to discern whether he's being genuinely helpful or simply blunt.

Deciding to handle this task yourself this time, you nod, expressing your intention to manage it alone. And even though you wanted to do it alone, Tech approaches nonetheless, the battered med kit in hand.

With Tech standing by, you cautiously remove the old bandage, your stomach turning at the sight of the open wound. Despite the lack of fresh blood, the dried remnants are enough to make you feel queasy. "You do not like blood," Tech observes, his statement pulling your attention away from the gruesome sight.

"Hm, how could you tell?" you mutter sarcastically, attempting to deflect from the discomfort.

“I have always known,” Tech responds cryptically, his expression giving nothing away as he crouches down beside you.

Curiosity piqued, you inquired further, wondering how he could have possibly known your hatred for blood. After all, you couldn't recall ever mentioning it to him before. “I… have observed your behaviour before and just so happened to pick up on it. I also recall you mentioning it to Hunter when you first joined.”

Hm, that’s… surprising.

You say nothing of it and instead allow him to take care of you. As Tech takes over, gently raising your leg and propping it over his knee, you can't help but notice the care he takes.

Despite his typically relaxed demeanor, there's a hint of concern in his actions as he tells you that you ‘may want to avert your gaze’ as he begins to peel the old bandage away.

Happily, you turn your attention to the leaves above, trying to ignore the stinging sensation spreading through your leg and the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Though, the warm breeze brushes against your exposed skin, offering a slight comfort amidst the discomfort.

“H-How does it look?” you ask, your voice strained, the anxiety evident in your tone as you feel Tech's careful movements.

“It appears that you have an infection. And I do not have the right resources to treat it.” Your heart sinks at his words, a sense of dread settling in the pit of your stomach as you try to suppress the rising panic.

“Great.”

“I will assume that is sarcasm,” he hums before passing you his canteen, “I found a water source last night. This has been purified and suitable to drink. I suggest you do that.”

Taking the canteen from his grasp, your mouth suddenly feels dry at the thought of water. You take a sip and can’t help but grimace at the taste, the bitterness lingering on your tongue. “Are you sure it’s been purified?”

“Yes, I did not say it will taste nice.”

You roll your eyes and take another remorseful sip before passing it back to him, your mind inadvertently drifting to the state of your leg. It looked worse than you anticipated.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath as you blink away the tears, the frustration and fear bubbling to the surface. Of course, your leg would get infected. Why would a crash-landing be a stroll in the park?

“I agree with your sentiments.” Tech's voice is steady as he carefully applies a new bandage, his movements precise and calculated. “I suggest you rest.”

“No,” you shake your head adamantly, meeting his gaze with determination, “I’m not going to sit here and do nothing. I have to do something.”

He blinks at you, frowning behind his goggles. “You are in no state to do anything. You are injured and so-.”

“So I’m a hindrance?” You challenge, the frustration evident in your tone as you refuse to back down.

“In a way, yes.” He says directly, the weight of his words hanging in the air as he stands up straight after carefully placing your leg down. “Any further injury could lead to loss of limb. Or worse. We cannot risk getting that leg infected even more. Do you not think you have caused enough grievance?”

Anger bubbles at his words, yet, a part of you knew he was right. You were both in this mess because of you but sitting on the forest floor doing nothing felt like a last resort. “Can you at least just help me stand up?” you grumble, your voice tinged with frustration. “Please?”

He hesitates, seemingly torn between his concern for your well-being and his reluctance to encourage any further strain on your injured leg. However, the dejected look on your face softens his resolve, knowing that he wouldn’t hear the end of it until he complies. Reluctantly, he extends his hand, offering you the support you need to rise to your feet.

Carefully, you put slight pressure on your leg, testing its strength. Surprisingly, it isn’t as painful as it was yesterday, giving you a glimmer of hope that you might be able to move around by limping or hopping for now—especially when Tech isn’t looking.

“Thanks,” you say stiffly, folding your arms over your chest, a mix of gratitude and stubbornness in your demeanor as you watch him pick something out of his pouch and hand it over to you. “What’s this?”

He presents you with a strange-looking leaf, its unfamiliar shape and texture raising your curiosity. “It is food. Edible. It is all I could find last night but will fill us with enough nutrients for now.”

The rest of the day didn’t unfold as smoothly as you both had hoped. While Tech ventured back to the shuttle in a bid to secure a signal to reach the others, you took it upon yourself to be productive. Somehow.

With the terrain familiar to you from extensive research in your past, thoughts of herbal remedies for injuries like the one on your leg flooded your mind. So, after crafting a makeshift walking stick from a discarded branch sturdy enough to support your weight, you set off from camp, determined to gather the necessary ingredients.

Luck seemed to be on your side as you found the correct herbs and plants without much difficulty. However, your return to camp was met with an annoyed-looking Tech, his frustration evident as he started an argument for your sudden departure and for not telling him where you were since comms were dead too; coupled with his ongoing concerns about your leg.

Insisting that you were fine, you proceeded to apply the herbal remedy to your wound, wrapping it back up and allowing nature to take its course. Though Tech couldn’t help but offer snide remarks whenever you winced at the slightest movement, your remedy proved effective in easing the discomfort for a while.

Meanwhile, Tech’s attempts to establish a signal to the others had proved fruitless, only adding to his growing frustration. He was normally very composed under pressure, but his visible agitation was somewhat unsettling, leaving you feeling both concerned and also quite upset to see him this way.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the camp, the atmosphere between you two remained tense. While you rested against the boulder again, Tech sat with his head in his hands, visibly weighed down by the day's events.

An uncharacteristic urge to ease his burden prompted you to speak up. “Why don’t you sleep? Try again tomorrow,” you suggest, breaking the silence and drawing his gaze across the flickering flames of the fire pit.

“One of us needs to stay awake and take watch,” he insists, decided on his decision straight away.

You frown, realising that you slept through most of the previous night, which meant… “Tech, did you not sleep last night?” you ask, your concern evident in your tone.

“No.” He mutters, “Like I said, one of us needs to stay awake.”

Squinting at him, a hint of annoyance creeps into your voice. “That’s not healthy, especially when we’re stuck like this. You need to sleep or something.”

“I am used to not getting sleep on the Marauder so I do not see why this is any different,” he counters, his stance firm.

Though grateful for his commitment to keeping watch, you can’t help but feel exasperated by his stubbornness. Rolling your eyes, you wrap your arms around yourself as a chill sets in. “To be fair,” you begin, “I kept waking up last night. It was way too cold.”

“Yes, I noticed,” he responds, his tone softened slightly by the acknowledgement.

“Oh,” you say softly before closing your eyes, allowing the weariness of the day to wash over you. However, you’re abruptly jolted from the verge of sleep by the sound of movement nearby. With a start, you almost jump out of your skin as Tech stands in front of you.

“Stars Tech!” You gasp, his sudden proximity shocking you. “What?”

“I want you to go to sleep.”

You blink at him.

“Okay…?”

“So,” you watch him shift, his movements awkward, “I will let you sleep beside me.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend his meaning before you pull a strange face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion and slight amusement. “Are you asking me to cuddle you?” The thought surprises you, but oddly enough, it doesn’t sound too bad right about now.

“I would not put it so conveniently,” he says, his tone betraying a hint of discomfort, “I am merely stating that I could use my body warmth to help you sleep.”

You’re taken aback by his offer, but exhaustion soon overwhelms any reservations you may have had. “Oh… well, if you’re okay with that?”

“I would not have offered otherwise.” Tech’s smile is small but genuine, and you can’t help but softly smile back as you both sit beside one another, gazing into the flames of the fire pit. Soon, you find your eyes trailing down to his bare hands, frowning as you notice they look quite sweaty; an odd sight considering the cool evening air.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you gaze up at his face, finding him engrossed in fixing his datapad. But something seems off—his complexion appears clammy, and there’s a flush to his cheeks.

Instinctively, you reach out and place the back of your hand to his forehead, gasping at the unexpected heat radiating from his skin. “Tech!” You squeak, startling him. “You have a fever? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He doesn’t even look at you, giving off a look like a character who had been bitten by something in those horrible horror holomovies and pretends to hide the bite. “Tech,” you say his name again, more sternly. “Are you hurt?”

He sighs, dropping his device into his lap before he lifts his arm to you, showing a bandage of his own that is stained in dry blood. “As I was maneuvering through the shuttle, I just so happened to trip and catch my arm on some jagged metal. It is nothing to fret about.”

“Oh, come off it, you’re burning up.” Tech notices the slight worry in your tone, watching you lean to your other side as you produce the herbal paste you used on yourself earlier. “Let me put this on.”

“Rest and water will do me fine-.”

“That’s funny, seeing as you just told me you’d rather me sleep than yourself.” You say with a roll of your eyes, taking a firm yet gentle hold of his arm before you start to peel the bandage away, holding down your nausea just for him.

Tech watches you with a concerned gaze. “I must insist…” he trails off as his eyes move to the sticky paste, clearly uncertain about your own remedy.

“Don’t you trust me?” You ask, and time seems to freeze as you both lock eyes, speaking silently to one another. His gaze is strong and, albeit, quite hypnotising behind his yellow-tinted goggles. But, you seem to snap out of your gaze as he replies:

“I do.”

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat as you drop your gaze to his arm, “let me help you.”

You’re gentle with your movements, applying the remedy over his arm with precision. You could feel his stare on your face, and so you slowly looked back up at him, his face so near you could almost feel the warmth of his breath dancing on your skin. “See? That should help with the pain,” you find yourself whispering.

For once, the two of you didn’t seem to be at each other's necks, both of you seeming to try and read each other’s thoughts. Tech was not the best at reading feelings, and as you gaze into his eyes, you find yourself not being able to read his too.

Eventually, you look away. An unusual heat started to crawl up your neck, and you didn’t think it was from the flame from the fire or his ‘body warmth’ as he put it. Lack of sleep and lack of food and water. That had to be it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep, Tech?” You ask again as the drowsiness from before seeps back, and Tech turns his head away from you, inspecting his arm quietly before picking up his datapad once more.

“I am sure.”

The next day unfolded much like the one before it.

Tech grumbled about your mobility, his attempts to fix up the shuttle yielding no results, and the air between you both grew heavy with unspoken tension.

Yet, as nightfall descended once again, you found yourself nestled beside Tech, his warmth offering a rare respite, allowing you to drift into a peaceful sleep. And miraculously, your homemade remedy seemed to work wonders on both of you. You could now move with a bit more ease, and the infections on your injuries had cleared up.

But as you stared into the dancing flames that night, a wave of sorrow washed over you.

“You were right, you know?” you whispered into the night, the warmth of the fire casting flickering shadows on your face.

“About what?” Tech responded, his eyes fixed on his datapad, the soft glow illuminating his features.

Tears welled up at the corners of your eyes, and you struggled to keep them at bay, feeling utterly helpless. “That it was my fault… with the mission. If I had just let you do the data transfer instead of insisting I could do it then…” Your voice faltered, choked by a sob that escaped your lips, startling Tech. “Then we would’ve made it out in time! A-and the others… Tech, we don’t even know if they’re alive!”

Tech stared at you wide-eyed, your sudden outburst of emotion catching him off guard. Yet, amidst your tears streaming down your face and your hands clasped over your head, he uttered your name softly, “Mistakes happen.”

“But they don’t with you, Tech!” you cried, turning to face him. “You’re always so good, so perfect at everything you do, and I… I just wanted to prove myself to you! I always feel like I am not good enough for you, and that’s why you don’t like me.”

For a moment, the crackling of the fire was the only sound between you, the flames casting a warm glow on both of your faces. Tech's expression softened as he regarded you with understanding.

“Not liking you, is not something that ever crossed my mind,” he finally said, his voice low. “You were determined, and that is a trait that is to be commended. It is true, I often find it easier to rely on myself but I am programmed that way. But you, you gave it your all, and that is commendable. Do not be so hard on yourself.”

You sniffle, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The tears keep escaping your eyes, trailing down your cheeks as you struggle to contain your emotions. "But… because of me, you’re stuck here?"

Tech’s gaze softens, his eyes reflecting understanding. His voice carries a comforting warmth as he responds, “I am aware. But think how you would be if I were not here.”

Your mind whirls with the possibilities of what could have been, but you still feel terrible. "But we may not see the others again… we may not ever leave here." Your voice trembles with the weight of uncertainty, your heart heavy with guilt.

Tech’s gaze shifts away, his brows furrowing in contemplation as he adjusts his goggles. "We have to adapt to survive, we always have. And regarding the others, the probability of their survival is 89%. It is likely they are out there looking for us. And if I get the shuttle repaired enough to get a connection, I can send a signal and hope they pick up our coordinates.” His voice carries a note of determination.

You cling to his words like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope flickering in the depths of your despair. How could you have been so stupid? But, his words held promise but you can’t help but ask: "Promise me you’re not lying to me?"

“I have not once ever lied to you and I would not start now.” His response is steady, his words a soothing balm to your battered soul.

As your tears slowly subside, a tentative smile graces your lips. "Thanks Tech,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “I bet I look a mess right now. I’m a pretty ugly cryer.”

Tech’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he searches for the right words. "No, you look…” He trails off, his gaze lingering on your tear-streaked face. He reaches out, his touch feather-light as he gently brushes away a stray tear that glistens on your lashes.

“What?” you prompt, your breath catching in your throat at his unfamiliar touch as you meet his gaze.

“Like you,” he finishes, a little awkward but his words were imbued with sincerity as he offers you a small smile.

Emotion wells up inside you, a tidal wave of gratitude and affection crashing over you. Without a second thought, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. He freezes for a moment, taken aback by the sudden intimacy, before tentatively returning the hug, his arms encircling you in a protective cocoon.

As you’re wrapped in each other's embrace, you find solace; a fleeting moment of peace.

As sleep beckons, you can’t help but nestle closer to him, finding comfort in his presence as you drift off into the realm of dreams, his steady heartbeat a lullaby.

In the days that followed, a significant improvement became evident. Tech’s progress on the shuttle repair was slow, hampered by the absence of his proper tools. Despite the challenges, both of your injuries had begun to heal, and the atmosphere in camp had lightened considerably.

Although the water still tasted like dirt, you were no longer dehydrated. Discovering some rare fruits that proved not to be poisonous added to the uplifting spirit.

At night, neither of you seemed to mind huddling for warmth. You would lay against him, listening to the plans and stories he had, especially if you begged him to tell you. Although they were very matter-of-fact and not overly entertaining, you found the tales of the squad before you joined enjoyable. You both no longer bickered, clearing the air of past arguments, and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Although it was not like either of you had any other options.

But that’s not the only thing that had changed. You found yourself getting nervous around Tech. A good kind of nervous. When he was working on the shuttle, you couldn’t help but sit back and admire him at work. He was attractive, sure, but you found him more than that. He listened intently to you, offering advice and tips without seeming to mansplain to you.

So that night by the fire again, sitting by his side, you weren’t so surprised about the next set of events.

“What are you going to do when we leave this place?” You ask, your body twisting to face him as you rest your elbow against the boulder, hand on the side of your head as you lean yourself up to look at him.

He smiles, noticing how you said ‘when’ and not ‘if’, highlighting your trust in him. “I will most likely do what I usually do, get ready for the next mission set for us.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t want to celebrate?”

“Celebrate what, exactly?”

“Well,” you start with a soft laugh, “us finally putting our differences aside and not killing each other for one.” You suggest, earning a fond chuckle from the clone before continuing. “And surviving.”

He thinks for a moment, looking into the flames and then at you. “I suppose those are adequate reasons to celebrate, yes. Will the others be joining?”

“Sure,” you say with a smile but there’s a small swirl in your stomach as you say, “unless… you don’t want them to join us?”

Tech blinks, and for a second, it was like he was short-circuiting as he thinks about your proposal. Was it flirtation in your tone or had he imagined it? “I do not mind either way,” he explains, his chest slightly puffing out. “It would be nice to perhaps talk like this in a more formal setting elsewhere. Just us.”

You silently suck in a deep breath, a shy glint in your eyes. “I think I’d like that, yeah.” Your tone lowered, and you can’t help but notice that Tech had turned his body more to face you. Then, his eyes flickered to your lips as you inadvertently licked them, chapped but tinged with the sweetness of the fruit before.

You hold his gaze, slightly tilting your head as you take a gamble and look to his lips, then to his eyes. It was an invitation, and you hoped that Tech got the hint.

And he did.

Slowly, he sets his datapad to one side, finally letting it go as he focuses all of his attention on you. There’s a charge in the air, and you see him lean closer... and closer…

Your breath hitches, eyes slowly falling shut as he closes the distance, his nose brushing against yours before his lips meet your own in a soft, shy kiss. Leaning more into it, your hand finds refuge on his leg whilst one of his hands comes up and cups your cheek.

You sigh into him, heart racing as you feel him grow bolder. His lips, warm and inviting, meld with yours, igniting a spark that you both had been unknowingly kindling. His touch sends shivers down your spine as the kiss deepens, becoming more desperate, more intense. The jungle, the planet, the whole star system around you seems to fade away.

Tech utters your name against your lips, your soft moan of a response allowing his tongue into your mouth, exploring, igniting a fiery passion within you.

Gently, he lays you down by the fire, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows across his face. He pulls away for a moment, pulling his goggles off his face as he peers down at you, his eyes a dance of different emotions. “You are enchanting.”

But with a hunger that can no longer be contained, he crashes his lips back to yours, now allowing you to let your tongue meet his in a fervent dance; fingers tangling in his untamed hair meanwhile his hands roam over your body.

The next day brought a breakthrough. Tech managed to gain contact.

Overwhelmed by joy, you ran into Tech’s arms, jumping and letting him spin you around with a chuckle as you knew both of you would soon be saved! And better yet, the others were alive and safe too.

“I can’t believe you did it! You really did it.” You grin at him as he pulls back from the hug but does not let you down, instead cradles you in his arms.

“You seem surprised.”

“Oh Tech,” you say adoringly, leaning forward and giving his lips a soft kiss, smiling as he hums against your lips.

“I will never get tired of you kissing me,” he utters, truly in awe of how this sudden turn of events had happened. It was quick, but neither of you seemed to mind.

Last night was magic. All the bad memories had faded from your mind, solely just focusing on Tech and yourself. When all hope had seemed lost, your mistake led you to one of the best choices you ever could make. And maybe, that promised date would become something more.

Masterlist is pinned😊

Tags: @thiswitchloves9904 @lulalovez @the-bad-batch-baroness @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix x @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup p @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

#bad batch tech x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch tech #tbb tech x reader #nahoney22 writes #bad batch tech #tbb tech #tech bad batch #the bad batch #tbb

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 6 months

Note

Can you please do this but with Ruggie and Leona?

Courting Rituals w/ Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Ruggie Bucci

Mating rituals for hyenas are very…tense

Females are aggressive and violent

For males there's a lot of submission and fear that goes into the mating process

Naturally he’s not supposed to be all that dominant when dating anyway

But you’re so clueless and totally unaware he might have to help you get the hint

There are three things male hyenas typically do

The cautious steps forward and cautious steps back

Spotted hyena males often do something of a nervous start toward the female before running back

Kind of like a nervous jig that’s a sure fire sign of their intentions

Whether or not the females actually see it they do it

Which rings just as true for Ruggie

“Oh wow, Ruggie your sharing with me?”

“Yeah don’t get to hung up on it. I’m just being a good senpai.” No he’s not

Or when Ruggie unexpectedly shares some of his food with you

And right after that he doesn’t talk to you for the longest time

Those are his steps but you won’t notice

You’ve got so many friends

He hates it really

Next is another round of testing the waters

Now this testing of the waters–or more accurately your boundaries

Starts with crossing his legs in front of you

Something he does casually while speaking to you

Next is the scratching the ground in front of you

Again you just casually brush off the extra time he spends down there tying your shoe

But now that he’s tested the waters he can finally commence with his final act

Presenting and you accepting

Now this wasn’t the olden days unfortunately

Even without your proper knowledge flashing you wasn’t the right display

So he’d take something close to it

“Ruggie I really appreciate you inviting me to come swimming with you.”

“Nishishishi it’s no problem! You scratch my back I’ll scratch yours.”

And scratch his you will since he’s wearing a tight speedo

And he purposely planned for this after all

Made sure grim and company we’re too busy

And Leona away on some trip

Now for your acceptance

Again he has to be slick you’re so far from a typical hyena beast woman

You just don’t know that bending over and parting your legs is the ultimate sign

The go ahead he needs

“Hey (Y/n), I need your help with something! My goggles fell into this rabbit hole.”

“What why don’t you do it?”

“Heh? I thought you were nice!”

“Fine fine. Just make sure I don’t fall in the ground looks pretty unstable.”

“But of course!"

He’s holding your waist tight as you bend over

Its the way it will be from now on

Your his mate now

And any violence he does in your name is completely justified

Leona Kingscholar

Lion’s have very basic mating rituals

That aren’t really worried heavily on being impressive or not

Its snuffing out competition

Yes, powerful roars and a large dark mane is just as alluring

But it means nothing if your intended mate is occupied

Like with another male or with a child of another

So that’s what Leona’s worried about

Worried about the way you so easily interrupt your time together to deal with Grim

“Sorry Leona, if I don’t go home now the rest of the night is going to be a nightmare!”

“Then why don’t you stay here, then.”

“Thanks but Grim gets fussy if I'm not there.”

The urge to revert to his ancestor’s behavior is strong

But he’d rather not deal with you fighting him so he’ll invest in making Grim a little ally speedbump

A few plates of gourmet fish and suddenly Grim is willing to mess up any other rivals of his

And that pleases him….for awhile

But you still mention Grim when you two are talking or cuddling

It makes him sick

So a deal with Azul or paid underhanded deal and suddenly Grim’s not your problem anymore

And when you come crying to him he’ll soothe you but he won’t feel remorseful

You won’t feel to bad if he gives you a cub or two of your own

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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months

Note

um could I request Conner Kent with a male reader who is just like him. Reader is a clone of another hero made by Cadmus, but the reader is a year or two older. When Conner and their first meet is during his initial escape and him coming apart from the team, and them bonding over them being clones. What would their relationship be like.

Conner Kent x Plastic Man Clone Male Reader

Headcanons

Reader is a clone of Plastic Man, cuz I love him.

Heyo my Hatchlings, how has everyone been doing? I finally finished up my assignment and I’m finally back. Did you guys miss me?

As a clone of Plastic Man, you put a good amount of people on edge when you appeared. Seeing as Plastic Man is very much immortal and unbeatable in the long game, they feared if you were good or evil, as there wouldn’t really be any way to defeat you if you turned out to be bad.

Luckily for them, you turned out to be as good of a guy as a clone of Plastic Man could be. You weren’t completely black and white, and sure you stole sometimes, and had a habit out of causing problems for corrupt people in power, but who were they to blame you.

You lived with Patrick Obrian, since he’s the closest thing you have to a family, and he never even had the thought of rejecting you because of your clone status. If anybody knows what its like to be judged and struggling to exist, its him.

Patrick plays an active supportive role in your life, and he teaches you how to use your powers. You end up being very skilled at the shapeshifting part of your shared powers. Sure, you still stretched, grew or shrank in size, anything Plastic Man could do, but you enjoyed shapeshifting the most. You even got a hang on switching colors, something Patrick struggled with.

When Young Justice was cooked up, you were one of the first they placed on the team. Mainly because of how powerful you were, and since part of them wanted to keep an eye on you, just in case.

You never took anything too seriously, it just came with the territory of being a clone of Plastic Man. Live life and all that. You did get into some arguments with different members of the team when it comes to morals, but that’s to be expected of a team.

When the team finds and rescues Conner, you immediately feel a level of kinship with him. Your clone status isn’t known outside of the league, so the knowledge Conner was born with doesn’t let him know you are a clone too.

As everyone tries to figure out what to do with Conner, you just settle down beside him, your stretched limbs dragging closer to you until they’re the normal length, where you offer him a snack or something to drink.

“Youd think they’d be better at dealing with clones, huh?” you joke, chewing on your own snack as he just looks at you, still confused and on edge about everything.

At his questioning glance, you lift your goggles and wink at him, pointing a thumb at yourself as you almost proudly declare yourself a clone of the best member of the justice league, if you were to be asked anyways.

As the league tries to figure it all out, you sit with Conner and just talk his ear off, never letting him wallow to far and making it harder for him to overhear the negative things said about him. Only Patrick knew, but the League fearing that you’d turn evil still weighed on you, and you didn’t want Conner to deal with the same thing.

Its only after you’ve made him smile and laugh that you accept that you’ve done your duty. When its time to leave you give him a way to contact you, and give him another cheesy wink before pulling your goggles back on, telling him that you clones should stick together.

Over time you become one of the people Conner is closest too, especially when he isn’t as welcomes by the people around him as he had hoped. This angers you and by extension Patrick, but your father figure just rolls his eyes and says he isn’t surprised.

In the beginning Conner spends a lot of time with you and Patrick, but mainly you, since you are closer in age. To be someone to look up too, you even stop with your petty crime for a while, just so your bad reputation won’t rub off on Conner.

Seeing him mingle better with the team, you take a happy step back and let him build the relationships he craves. Because of your different opinions and looser morals, you never became much more than acquaintances with the team, but seeing your fellow clone happy is enough for you.

But even as Conner gets closer to the team, he still holds onto you, since you were the first person to show him casual kindness without any suspicion or wanting something in return. You also have a lot more life skill than he does, so going to you for advice is normal for him.

When the time comes, you were most likely the one to leave the young justice team first out of everyone. You just don’t fit into their dynamic, and you run best on your own or with your father figure. Its hard to be an immortal who would never get to experience true normal life on a team of people who could.

You don’t leave the league, but you become more of a contractor, someone they call in when they need the help. You keep beating up bad guys, but you also fall back on the familiar feeling of crime. You only steal from those that deserve it though, and use your shapeshifting to easily get away with it.

It becomes a bit of a running gag, as the league always sends the young justice team after you since you aren’t an actual lethal threat. It kinda becomes training for them, and since Meghan can’t ever find you through mind powers, they have to work hard to find you.

When Conner leaves the team you to go out for drinks. Who cares about your ages. Seeing your father figure, you could be thousands of years old and never age physically, so it didn’t matter to you.

If your relationship was romantic, this would most likely be where it developed further, since Conner would be less tied to the team, and he could spend more time with you.

If your relationship isn’t romantic, it would still develop from here, just become more brotherly. You always joke you’re the batman to his superman, always shapeshifting into batman when you do, much to Conners fake annoyance.

Honestly even if it became romantic, youd still transform into batman and make kissy faces at him, since superbat is probably a running gag in the league.

You guys go on dates, even if its platonic, just to spend time together, maybe travel the world a bit, or even travel space, since you could easily survive away from earth. Theres probably also some very deep conversations about existence and your worth, since being a clone and always being treated like one weigh heavy on anyone.

When it truly hits Conner how much you struggle with your own role as a clone, he’s a bit surprised. Hed never imagined you were just completely fine, but you had always seemed to let the comments and suspicion roll off your back.

All in all, you two have each other’s back, always. The bond you have is deep in the way only two people created the same place for the same purpose can have. So, no matter if its romantic or platonic, you two become a familiar sight on and off the battlefield.

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starry-bi-sky · 4 months

Text

Becoming Phantom - Clone^2 (and by extension, clone danny)

I said I would make it, and so i did! Here's a little ficlet of how danny became Phantom - the human ghost-fighting vigilante in the clone^2 and clone Danny au. Since this does include themes of dissection/vivisection, i'll put in a minor trigger warning list down below.

TW: experimentation - implied torture and vivisection/dissection of ghosts TW: Non-graphic mentions of injuries and blood

TLDR: Danny's parents have been catching ghosts ever since the portal was opened after Danny's lab accident. Danny knows this because he can hear them screaming from the basement. After finally telling his friends about it, he resolves to free the ghosts - and he does. He ends up having a conversation with one of the ghosts, and comes to the decision that he will catch ghosts before his parents do to prevent this kind of harm from happening again.

word count check: 4.9k

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

His parents caught another ghost.

Danny can tell because he can hear their screaming from the kitchen, even with the doors closed. It's horrific - the voice is doubled over itself like something out of one of Sam's demonic horror movies, and Danny's heart races like he's run a mile at the sound.

It warps and twists, and almost sounds like its saying 'please.'

He rubs his chest uncomfortably, and pushes his breakfast away from him. His appetite lost and his stomach churning with a deep sense of dread.

Across the table, Jazz notices, and her eyes narrow dangerously at his hand gripping his shirt - right over his heart. He just got out of the hospital last month, and he knows what she's thinking - they don't want to have to send him back.

"I'm fine." He blurts out immediately, dropping his hand. He's not fine, but it's because he feels ill as the lights above flicker and another terrified shriek echoes through the floorboards. He swallows, ill. "I- it's just-" his eyes flick to the door to the lab. "the lab."

Jazz's lips press into thin line, and she pushes her chair back and stands up. "I hate that they're doing this," she says, stomping towards the lab. "It's inhumane, Danny. They're people too, even if they don't look like us!"

Before the portal, Danny might've just shrugged his shoulders and not said anything. He never really cared about his parents' ghost hunting stuff, but figured that since they knew more about it, their rants about them being unfeeling were correct.

Now, though? When he's been woken up in the middle of the night by the house rattling and his ears ringing with the pained cries of one of the ghosts' in the basement? His heart beating so fast he thinks he's been transported back to the lab a month ago, lying on the floor after being electrocuted by the portal?

He's really not so sure anymore. And he thinks he's starting to agree with Jazz. This isn't right. He doesn't think so, at least.

An unsure 'hm' comes out of his throat, eyes tracking Jazz as she swings the heavy metal door open and breathes in deep. "HEY!" She yells, her voice miraculously sounding out over the ghost screaming. The screams stop. "MOM! DAD! CUT THAT OUT, YOU'RE SCARING DANNY!"

There's no sound, and Danny sighs a breath of relief. Not that it does much to slow his anxious heart, the shrieks are burned into his ears, and he's already thinking about leaving now rather than later. He can meet Tucker at his house.

His parents - his mom, actually - appears at the entrance to the lab, her hands drip bright, ectoplasm green, and there's splatters of it across the front of her suit and goggles like blood. Danny feels white in the face, and Jazz looks enraged.

Mom pulls off her goggles, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your father and I just got carried away, we caught this one just this morning by the park." She says, as if that makes it any better. Danny's eyes are glued to the ectoplasm dripping onto the floor. "We'll wait until you get to school."

Danny wishes they wouldn't do this at all. But he just nods mutely, unable to make his lead-heavy tongue do anything. Jazz speaks for him, and whirls on mom like a tornado about to break loose. "At school? This shouldn't be happening at all - it's wrong, mom!"

Jazz has been the only one vocal about this whole thing ever since mom and dad came home with a ghost trapped in one of their nets - their thermos wasn't working - while Danny was on sick leave after he got out of the hospital. Danny still remembers the utter shock he was in after mom and dad came in dragging it behind them.

The ghost looked like a grown woman, but it - she - had the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen, and ice-like skin. She'd been thrashing in the net, saying something in a hissy, whispering language that made static build behind his eyes. It had surprised him that he could somewhat make out what she was saying.

It had been fascinating. Up until the screaming started.

He watches Mom make a face that looks like endeared annoyance, and she turns to Jazz with a light sigh. "You're a kind girl, Jazz, but ghosts aren't human, sweetheart. We've told you this." And they have, multiple times. It's become a reoccurring argument.

"Does it matter?!" Jazz exclaims, her cheeks turning an inflamed red with indignancy. She looks appalled. "They're still in pain! You're hurting them!"

Danny silently nods, but they don't see. Jazz is glaring at mom with the burning anger of the sun and Mom just looks exasperated. "Your father and I know this already, Jazmine." Mom says, her arms crossing across her chest.

Jazz's mouth drops open.

Danny's almost does the same. The bone-chilling blood rush leaves him shivering, and his vision spots out in black, fuzzy dots for a few seconds. Maybe, he thinks, it's his heart stopping again with the cold horror.

They know this?

And they're still doing it?

He thought he knew his parents - now he's second-guessing himself.

Jazz is just as much at a loss for words as Danny is. And then her expression shutters closed with a fury-kind of icy. "Danny," she says, still staring down their mom. "Go get your stuff, I'm driving you to school."

Normally, he hates how.. parent-y Jazz gets. She acts like a second mom, and like a helicopter one to boot. It drives him nuts on the worst of days. Right now though, he's already rising to his feet before he's even opening his mouth.

"Okay." He croaks, and beelines it up the stairs for his backpack. He doesn't look at mom when he comes back down, he doesn't think he can. He can see her still-dripping hands in the corner of his eye though.

------

"Man, you look like shit." Tucker says the moment Danny sits down in their homeroom class, he's frowning. Danny doesn't say anything to him, he just grunts and drops his head into his arms.

Sam, sitting behind Danny, leans across the aisle and smacks Tucker in the arm. He yelps in pain, and rubs the spot she hit with a glare. "He's right though," Sam says, leaning over his shoulder. "You looked like you were gonna yak over the front row when you walked in."

"It's good that you didn't," Tucker grumbles, "Dash would've killed you."

Danny, despite the shit morning, manages a smile and tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on his arm instead. "Mr. Lancer wouldn't've let him." Sam sniffs, and her fingers are in his hair already - it's been growing out for a while now. He meant to cut it but then the lab accident happened, and he was in the hospital, and then on sick leave, and -- long story short, he was growing it out.

Besides, Sam pulling it back for him was relaxing, and he feels the tension bleeding out of his shoulders already. His anxious heart slowing. "Yeah, he's been weirdly protective since the accident." He says. It was kinda nice, Dash was being forced to back off - finally, more than he was before.

"Probably because if you have a heart attack in class from Dash bullying you, he'll be liable." Tucker snorts, relaxing back into his chair. Up front, the three of them see Dash shoot them a glare from over his shoulder. He probably heard them -- and Tucker doesn't help by giving him an innocent, too-wide grin.

There's a tug, and Danny lifts his head slightly as Sam ties his hair back with whatever hairband she procured out of nowhere. And she says she's not a witch, honestly.

His smile falters, however, when Sam leans back around his shoulder with a frown still evident on her face. "Seriously though, what's up? You were really pale -- paler than normal, that is."

Danny doesn't really wanna tell them - he's kept the whole 'my parents are torturing ghosts' thing to himself ever since he first woke up to the house shaking. It wasn't any secret though that there were ghosts now actually 'infesting' Amity Park though, they'd been popping up ever since the portal turned on.

But Jazz says talking about things helps alleviate stress of what's burdening you, and Danny doesn't usually listen to her. She's his annoying older sister, of course he doesn't. But... this... wasn't really something he wanted to keep secret forever, either.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he averts his eyes. It's like tearing off a band-aid, Danny, he thinks, just... blurt it out. "My parents are torturing ghosts in the basement." He says, only to immediately wince as both Sam and Tucker drop their jaws.

"What!?" They both yell in unison, and Danny ducks his head down as everyone else sitting around them turn their heads.

"Not so loud!" He hisses, peeking through his arms and glaring at the both of them. They both grimace, embarrassment dusting red across Sam's face and Tucker's darkening slightly, and duck their heads down towards him.

"Sorry, what!?" Tucker whispers back at him, his face all scrunched up in disbelief. Sam's redness has faded into pale horror and -- and yeah, yeah, Danny gets it. He feels that way too.

"They keep catching the ghosts and dissecting them." He whispers, and god, he feels sick just saying it. Tucker's face falls slack, and he looks about as ill as Danny feels. "I don't- I don't know what to do about it, I keep waking up to them screaming, and Jazz keeps getting into fights about it with them."

"Oh my god." Sam mutters, her hands pressing together and covering her mouth. Danny nods mutely, chewing on his lip.

"They know its hurting them." He adds, and its still dizzyingly terrifying to think about. He thought he knew his parents. He thought he knew them. He guesses that saying of people being multi-faceted was true. "They don't care."

Sam and Tucker both look green. Or as close to green as they can get. "That's- that's inhumane." Sam breathes, and Danny huffs sardonically - funny, that's what Jazz said this morning. That's what she keeps saying. "And there's really nothing you can do?"

"Not unless I go into the lab myself and release them," he mutters, hiding half his face in his arms. "And I haven't been back in there since I got electrocuted." His parents wouldn't allow it, and it's not like he he was chomping at the bits to go back inside anyways.

...Hm.

"I'm sorry, Danny." Tucker says, his voice low and horrified, "that's- that's awful."

Yeah. He knows.

--------

This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.

Where was Danny you ask? Sneaking down into the lab at sometime past midnight, long after his parents have gone to bed. It's been a week since he said, sarcastically, that the only thing he could do was release the ghosts in the lab, and it hasn't left his head.

Even though he was utterly terrified as he took slow, sneaky steps down the stairs. The thought had been keeping him up at night. He could do it. He could go down into the lab and let them go. He could do something.

It's not like his parents had put a lock on the door. He hadn't even thought about it - if he thought about it, he'd back out. So when he heard his parents go to sleep that night, he waited an hour before sneaking out.

Every sound felt so loud, and his heart had raced in his ears as he creaked open the door to the lab, and closed it behind him for good measure. And his hands were shaking as he reached the bottom of the steps and stepped into the lab for the first time in two months.

And good god, did he almost regret it. There were ghosts in cages of all kinds, and ectoplasm seeping down onto the floor of their cages. They were clutching their chests, of which bled sluggishly through stitched up y-scars. They were moaning, and crying, curled up in the back like frightened animals. And there was a metal table in the center of a room that was stained green, green, green.

"Oh my god." He breathes, horror driving itself up into his throat with the churning of his gut. That's another thing he almost regrets - if only because half a dozen ghosts all snap their heads towards him, and it becomes pandemonium in an instant.

Rattling, yelling, crying, they're all screaming at him. Either to tell him to go away, to give them mercy, or to spew threats at him. It's in that same, hissy language that he's heard before. Whispery, echoing, and overlapping like multiple languages being played backwards and forwards at the same time. It gives him an immediate headache as his mind tries to comprehend and translate it.

Go away. Don't hurt us. Go away. I'll tear you apart. Leave. Leave. LEAVE.

It's all so much. Danny wants to throw himself up the stairs and back up to his room in a prey-driven instinct to flee, flee, flee. He doesn't. He covers his ears and digs his nails into his hair.

He yells. "I'M NOT LEAVING. BE QUIET!" and somehow, it silences everyone in an instant. He looks up, and everyone is staring at him, their multi-colored eyes burning into him.

Tentatively, he lowers his hands, they're shaking. He's still so scared. But courage isn't a lack of fear, its doing something despite it. He blinks back the terrified sting in his eyes, and twiddles with his hands. "I'm- I'm not here to hurt you." He stammers, "I promise. I'm not my parents."

It's silent for a long moment, and then there's an animalistic-like hiss from his left. He turns his head, and there's a ghost of a man curled up in a cage, staring him down with a thunderous look on his face. "Liar." He hisses, his voice warping in that hissy language. There are goat-like horns protruding from his head, and his eyes are yellow and slitted. He's dripping ectoplasm from his chest.

Danny swallows the bile in his throat.

And frowns. "I'm not lying." He says, and the ghost doesn't get hostile, much to his surprise. But there's a ripple of murmurs that spreads through the room like a wave at a ballgame. The ghost that spoke stares at him, then squints.

"You understand us, child?"

And - okay, Danny doesn't like the 'child' comment. He's fourteen for goodness sake, and he bristles silently like it's an insult, but he's no there to argue, he's here to help. So he swallows his pride and starts to walk towards the closed portal.

His legs are shaking, he's afraid they're gonna give out beneath him. The portal scares him, more than it did when he first saw it. But maybe that's because when he first saw it, he hadn't almost died from it.

His heart is pounding in his ears. Is it going to give out again, will he have to go to the hospital again? Despite his insistence that he's fine, Danny's heart hasn't beat right ever since the accident. He's checked. He spent an hour every night with his fingers pressed against the pulse point at his throat, at his wrist, terrified of the slow-beating he could feel thrumming against the skin.

Hearts aren't supposed to beat that slow - that much he knows. He's afraid he's going to drop dead if it drops any lower.

"Of course I do." He swallows, glancing back at the ghost. Everyone's eyes are on him, they burn into him, curious, wary, afraid. He's in front of the portal, in front of the keypad to open it. Shit, did dad put in a password? "Am I- am I not supposed to?"

He pauses to look at the ghost, and the man has moved to stare at him from a new angle in his cage - god he's gonna need to find the key. Mom and dad probably have it in their desk, right?

The ghost is silent. "...No. You're not." He says, and his head tilts to the side as Danny mentally translates in his head. he looks at Danny like he's trying to inspect him, like he's trying to look into him like his parents have looked into the ghost. "What is your name, child?"

"I'm not a child." He bites out, and immediately winces. Shit- he just said not to antagonize them. But the ghost doesn't look offended. In fact, he just grins a sharp, toothy grin like a shark, and raspy giggles and titters echo through the room.

...That's... probably a good sign. "Um," he continues, and turns his back to the keypad. Dad's birthday? He punches into the keys. "I'm- uh, Danny. Danny Fentom- Fanton- Fenton. My parents are- uh, the ones who took you guys." The keypad buzzes and the bar spots red. Wrong password. Dammit.

"Phantom." The ghost says, and the name crawls like a spider across the walls, sneaking up his spine and ringing in the air like the leftover taste of rain and thunder. the rest of the ghosts whisper it amongst themselves.

Danny shivers, it feels like a weight in his chest. It's Fenton, he thinks, but doesn't correct. He doesn't want to push his luck with the being that could tear him apart. "Uh, sure."

He punches in mom's birthday. Wrong. He puts in Jazz's. Wrong. "How come we haven't seen you down here, Phantom?" The ghost asks, and Danny shrugs helplessly. "You are the Danny that the unknown girl yells about?"

He tries his own birthday. Wrong. Fuck. What's the password? The tremor in his limbs worsens with his anxiety, and he tries to keep his breathing steady. What if he can't get this open? What if he can't get them out? He nearly forgets to answer the ghost, and licks his dry lips. "Um- yeah, that's me. The Danny guy." He says, turning to the cages again. "And uh, I don't come down here because my parents don't allow it."

The ghost, uh, goat-man? Tilts his head, there are whispers throughout the room that pick up. And Danny feels like the kid late to an all school assembly and now has to walk past the whole school to find a seat.

Goat-man smiles again, or bares his teeth? "You are the reason why the human doctors haven't cut into us more than they already have." And- that's- that's good? He thinks?

"That's- good, right? You- you don't want to be cut open, so it's good that I, uh, indirectly stopped it a few times?"

A round of titters goes through the room again. The man's grin widens inhumanly so, and Danny's heart spikes with fear. "Yes, it's a good thing, Phantom child." He says, "Why is it that your parents do not let you come down here?"

Danny stares, and swallows again, dry. The back of his neck tingles, and he tastes electricity on his tongue. "I had an accident down here, um, nearly two months ago." His eyes flick to the cable cord where the portal was plugged in, and his heart flutters with the images of green that got burned behind his eyes. He looks away. "The portal, it, ah, electrocuted me. I was in the hospital because it nearly killed me."

"It did kill you." The ghost says immediately, and terror fills up in Danny like water flooding a room. What? What? What? He was alive. His heart was beating, he was alive. "But only for a moment. You've been touched by death, Phantom."

That was so fucking ominous. And terrifying. And terrifyingly ominous. And also really horrifying. Danny does a swift pirouette and turns back to the keypad. Time to figure out the passcode and not think about that, ever again, actually.

"Wow." He rasps, his mind numb as he punches in a random code of numbers and gets a red screen. "How reassuring. Tell death I want a refund." He gets laughter again, and his shoulders scrunch up to his ears.

"It is the reason you can understand us, then." The ghost says behind him. "We are not speaking your language child - rather, you are speaking ours."

Again. Fucking ominous. Danny furrows his brows and stares hard at the keypad - if he was dad, and he wanted to put a password lock on his lifetime achievement in something that was easy to remember and equally important, what would it be?

Oh. Right.

He bites back a groan - how obvious. Danny's an idiot. Or maybe just so scared witless that his brain isn't working right. "Fudge." He grumbles, and punches it into the keypad. It dings green.

Of - fucking - course. Danny rolls his eyes.

He hears a hiss, and Danny rapidly scuttles back as the massive blast doors twisted open like something out of a scifi movie - he'd be geeking out if he wasn't aware of his own rapid heartbeat. Like a gun charging up, an unearthly green glow appears at the back of the tunnel an d then rapidly moves towards him, growing larger and larger.

Danny flinches, half-convinced its going to hit him. He was going to be vaporized, and he brings up his arms to protect himself. But nothing happens, and he peeks open an eye that he closed when the ghost from before murmurs for him to open them.

The portal is - is, well. Indescribable. It fills the dark room with its glow, swirling like a those weird, shimmering liquid dyes put into martini glasses in those aesthetic gifs on the internet. And the light it casts on the walls shimmers and moves like the aurora borealis.

Danny is speechless. It's... oddly beautiful. And terrifying. There's a whole new world in that dimension - if he steps through he won't be on earth anymore.

And... his parents wanted to eradicate the people on the other side of it?

He whirls on foot, his back to the portal - a thing that fills him with dread. his shaking - its worse. Danny almost thinks his feet will give out. "Do - do any of you know where mom and dad keep the keys to the cages?" He asks, but he's already stalking towards the desk on the other side of the room.

The people in the cages grow restless, and they've been silent for the most part - but with the portal open, and him going to find the keys, they'd begun to grow talkative. They were moving more in the cages, talking to each other, excitement filling the air with so much hope Danny could feel it resonating between his ribs.

A new voice, quiet and feminine, speaks up on the opposite side of the goat-man's cage. She's closer to the desk, and she has also been cut open. There are black tears staining her face, and her shock white hair floats like she's underwater. Immediately, on instinct, Danny's head supplies him with a word.

Banshee.

"In the bottom drawer, Phantom." She whispers, her voice lilting and melodic. Her pitch black eyes follow him across the room. "I've seen them put it there after putting us back into our cages."

He nods mutely, and again feels horrified by their treatment from his parents. His pace quickens to the desk, and just as the banshee woman said, there are keys in the bottom drawer sitting on top of a bunch of research papers that have a suspicious green stain on them.

Danny ignores the stain and grabs the keys, holding them up as he closes the drawer. When he turns back to the cages, all eyes are on him. "Um," he rasps, "I found the key." Who do I free first?

His eyes land on the banshee woman first, she's the closest to the desk. And in an arc he follows the lineup to the other side side of the room. He moves to the banshee woman's cage first, and she perks up as he kneels down to the door.

"I'll- I'll go in a circle, first." He announces, fingers fumbling with the key as he inserts it into the hole. The banshee woman had her fingers - clawed and knife-like, capable of tearing out his throat in an instant - around the bars of her confinement. She was staring at him intently.

He hesitates, and looks up. Her eyes are pitch black, he noticed this before, but this close its like its threatening to suck him in and send him swirling through a blackhole. "If- if I free you," he stammers, licking his lips, "will you attack me?"

The banshee woman bares her razor teeth at him, and reaches through the bars to touch his face. It takes all Danny's restraint not to flinch as her nails drag down his cheek softly. "No," she says, "you're freeing us, Phantom. We will not attack you."

Danny.. will just have to take her word for it. He nods, and with a sharp twist of his wrist unlocks the cage with one hand, and flings open the door with the other. In an instant, the banshee dives forward -- Danny thinks she's lunging at him, and flinches violently.

She goes through him instead, leaving him with a bone-deep chill and a heartbeat in his ears. He turns, and sees her dive through the portal like a swimmer diving into a pool.

There is silence throughout the room. And then everyone else begins to clamor once again, just like when Danny first walked in. Danny hurries to hush them - he said he was going around the room! He'll free them, but be quiet, or you'll wake his parents!

He rushes for the next cage, and one by one opens each and every cage. There are cheers, and thank yous, and cries of gratitude. He has to help the weaker ghosts out of their cage and limp them towards the portal. His shirt and hands are stained green with their blood.

(When he goes back up to his room later, he throws it off and throws it away. He can't stand the sight of it, and he scrubs his hands until they're raw.)

It's a lot for Danny to not burst into tears, or to throw up. Until finally he reaches goat-man's cage, and releases him. He is one of the ghosts too weak to fly on their own, and so Danny lets him lean against him and helps him to the portal.

"Will you be okay?" He asks once they are at the threshold, the portal hums softly this close to it. Almost like its trying to beckon Danny inside, like a siren song. Danny ignores it. "Will everyone else?"

"We will heal, Phantom." Goatman says, holding a hand to his chest. He looks tired, this close, and Danny can feel him looking at him, even without any pupils to show it. "Once back inside the Infinite Realms our bodies will heal on its own."

Danny nods silently, and his frown begins to wobble. The stress he's been under is finally starting to take its toll, and he is emotionally exhausted. There is still a lingering taste of fear in the air that doesn't belong to him - but the ghosts that have left. "I'm sorry." He croaks, his voice cracking. "I didn't - I didn't think you guys were human. I'm sorry."

The ghost's expression softens, but he still looks stern. "We aren't human." he says, and Danny frowns, confused. The ghost continues, and reaches out a long finger to tap against Danny's chest, where his heart is. "But do not think for a moment that humanity can be measured by the sound of a heartbeat, child. We are just as humane as you living can be, and we are just as sentient and sapient as you. Do not forget that, and you will not become your parents."

There's nothing for Danny to say to that, except nod once again. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, made of lead. "This will happen again," he continues, and his eyes prick, "they're gonna keep catching ghosts and bringing them down here." And hurting them.

Goatman nods curtly, and raises an eyebrow at Danny. "What will you do to stop them, Phantom?" He asks, "You could keep releasing them after they have been already caught, but that will not stop the pain they face under the hands of your parents."

He's right. He's right. And if Danny keeps releasing them afterwards, his parents will grow suspicious. They'll start sticking around trying to catch whoever is freeing the ghosts. And Danny doesn't want to face what will happen if his parents realize that he's the one freeing ghosts.

His eyes flicker rapidly around the room, trying to think of a solution - what could he do? What can he do?

His eyes land on the thermos sitting on the table.

"I... I could catch ghosts?" He says, unsure, and looks back to the ghost. He nods, beckoning for Danny to continue. "I can catch them in the thermos before my parents do, and then release them back to the Zone."

"That will work." The ghost says, "The thermos doesn't hurt to be in, it's merely cramped. Will you follow through on this?"

"Yes."

The ghost smiles at him a third and final time, his teeth glinting in the green portal light. "Then good luck, Danny Phantom."

He lets go, and disappears into the portal.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #tw mentions of blood #dpdc #clone^2 #tw mentions of experimentation #dp dc #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc au #dp x dc au #danny fenton is a clone #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny: my name is danny fentom - fenton #ghost: hello danny phantom #i thought that was a clever way for danny to get his 'phantom' vigilante name. although if that hadnt happened he still would've chosen #phantom as his vigilante name. it just would've happened differently. danny being terrified of the ghosts but still going through with #freeing them anyways #will rpobably reblog later with a continuation of him actually deciding to sneak out as phantom. but thats a hard maybe.#its a danny phantom fic so its kinda expected for them to be OSME kind of horror elements to it. thats the best part!#i left a few details out like how the portal light made danny's hair look white from a certain angle from where the light was hitting it #alerting all ghosts but danny that danny has been affected by the infinite realms in some way and was not as human as he seemed.#altho that was obvious by the fact that he could understand ghostspeak when no living being should be able to #ghost: dont judge humanity by the sound of a heartbeat #i had another tag i was gonna put here - what was it??? will add later if. i remember #NOW I REMEMBER #parental ambuigity from the fenton parents. are they good are they bad? up to interpretation

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little-pondhead · 1 year

Note

Some fic because I love your au, Fenton is gender brainrot, and little baby dan cracks me up. Full disclosure, my only familiarity with DC is DP crossover fanfic, and a Batman movie I fell asleep during. (If I had a better grasp on the characters I would totally write more :(( i love interactions) also sorry for the weird spacing. Idk why tumblr did that

~~~~~~~~

There was an empty cardboard box on the table of the Justice League’s main conference room. Taped on the top flap, next to a doodle of Fenton’s logo, was a jump drive.

Heaving a sigh, Batman plugged it in and pulled up his screen on the projector. The drive, which was named “little baby dan’s evil playtime”, contained two files; WATCH_ME_FIRST.mp4 and its-a-secreeeet.pdf. He clicked on the video file, and immediately the projector filled with a blurry close-up of Fenton’s goggles.

After a moment of fiddling with the camera, Fenton stepped back, giving a cheery wave. His lab coat and goggles were a pastel pink, which was new. “Heeeeya, Bats! Whoever else is there! If you’re watching this, you probably weren’t there when I dropped the box off, aaand it’s probably empty.”

He clapped his hands together gleefully. “And Connie, if you’re there, this is payback for cussing around my daughter.” Batman was instantly relieved that Constantine wasn’t on base. Hopefully the situation wouldn’t require Constantine’s expertise. (Or any of the Justice League Dark. Fenton seemed determined to drive them all to an early grave with his casual refusal to acknowledge the supernatural air around him.)

“Now, as you’re all heroes, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the whole,” Fenton paused for a moment, as if searching for the proper words. “”You ate a burger on a Tuesday or something equally inane, and it kickstarted a series of events that led to you going insane and evil and murdering 95% of the Earth’s population and now you must fight your evil alternate self, because your time-controlling cryptid Peepaw said so,” shtick, so I’ll skip the backstory. Say hi to Dan!” Fenton grabbed the camera, and Batman quickly jotted down several notes about the concerning number of things the boy had just said.

The camera swiveled around to show Nightingale, holding a strange beast in a manner that reminded Batman of an “elongated cat meme” Nightwing had shown him when he was still a Robin. The creature bared a maw full of razor sharp fangs at the camera. Nightingale adjusted her grip to hold the creature’s paw and make it wave, which evoked a deep growl.

“Haha, he’d kill me if I did that. Dan likes Nightingale much more than he likes me.”

“Because the worst she has ever done is attempt to shoot me.”

The camera had moved, so Batman couldn’t visually confirm that the deep voice had come from the creature, but the voice didn’t match any of Fenton’s previously revealed companions. “Yeah yeah, her aim sucked back then.” Fenton gave the camera a toothy grin that was only slightly less unnerving than the creature’s. “Dan’s not technically me, he’s much more like Dani, actually, but the world would probably end again if we left him with his other... What did you call him?” Fenton glanced offscreen.

“Bane of my accursed existence.”

Fenton chucked. “The other half responsible for his existence.” Batman added more notes to his file. “So, yeah, Clocky left him with us for a bit to help along his rehab. But a certain psychologist-in-training I know says that repressing rage isn’t healthy, and even without a lot of his powers, he can wipe out most of a city in- what, an hour? We tested it. It was around an hour.”

Everyone present shared a look of deep concern. As if able to see their reaction, Fenton quickly held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry! Clocky reset it. Approximately zero people have died from Dan in this timeline.”

“Yet.” Came a furious rumble from off-screen.

“Yes, you’re very scary.” They heard Nightingale coo.

Fenton laughed. “Yeah, we need him- and all of you, -out of our hair for a bit while we concoct more evil plans, and you’re all the least likely to die to him, so you get to babysit! Thanks!”

He reached to shut off the camera before pausing and turning away. “Foley! Which of the furries is the one who really likes animals?”

“Man, do you realize how that sounds out of context?” Foley laughed. “I think Tim said it’s the little one. Damian?”

Fenton nodded and turned back to the camera. “Don’t let Damian try to adopt Dan. Or anyone. Dan will bite their hands off. I mean it!” To emphasize his point, he removed one of his hands.

Batman sighed and added “ability to remove limbs” to a list of Fenton’s powers.

“I’ll include a list of “tasks”” Fenton’s disembodied hand made finger quotes, “we gave Dan to keep him occupied. There’s some at the bottom for you guys. They’re mostly just blatant abuse of his powers for the sake of fun and science. I’d appreciate it if you’d let him mark things off the list and add notes on how it goes. Or you can do it. Or I can steal your cameras. Your choice.”

He thought for a second. “I think you’re supposed to leave, like, pizza money or something, but I don’t think you can get pizza delivered to space. Anyway, thanks for letting me blab your ears off while Dan’s probably committing war crimes for twelve minutes. For your sake, I hope he inherited my interest in space. Good luck! Thanks for babysitting!”

Waving with his still detached hand, Fenton ended the video. Batman closed it and opened the PDF as the few other members present murmured amongst themselves. Most of the pages were filled with a curling script Batman didn’t recognize. The fourth page had a huge, bolded header, reading JP TASKS.

The door opened and shut in half a second as the Flash burst in. “Superman!” The speedster wailed. “I can’t get this thing off of me!”

The Flash waved his arm around, sending small droplets of blood flying as he tried to dislodge the creature sinking his teeth into the speedster’s arm. Batman raised an eyebrow beneath his cowl as Superman quickly lent his super strength in attempt to pry the creature’s jaw open. Dan didn’t budge.

Well, he could certainly see the family resemblance been Fenton, Dani, and Dan. Shaking his head, he turned back to the list.

Task 1: Find Dan. He’s probably attacking someone.

He highlighted the text and crossed it out. This was going to be a long shift.

[Anon, this is me crying over the wonderful gift you have given me. You bastard.]

---

"Do you think Fenton's regeneration powers extend to his..." Green Lantern frowned, trying to remember the word the kid had used but coming up blank. "I dunno. But do you think if we cut off little Dan here, he'll heal back up with no problem?" He gestured helplessly to the scene in front of him. Flash was still screeching about the beast on his arm, and now Superman and Wonder Woman were trying to pry him off. Batman was standing to the side, silently bemoaning the lack of quiet. He just wanted one peaceful shift. Just one. Please.

"I'd like to see you try, hero. And I'm not little." Dan spoke, startling all of them. His grip on Flash's arm tightened, making the speedster squeal before releasing the man and spitting out a mouthful of his blood. Batman noticed that his mouth didn't move despite the clearly spoken words. In fact, when Dan closed his mouth, it was like he didn't have one at all.

"So you do speak!" Superman marveled.

"Of course I do. I am not unintelligent, unlike you lot."

Despite his pain, Flash still made sounds of protest that everyone promptly ignored.

Superman flushed. "I just wasn't sure. It was hard to tell in the video."

"Ah, yes. The video that the Fenton menace sent you. Was there a note for me in the flash drive?"

"Uh, no." In one of his less finer moments, Green Lantern stuttered over his words and moved in front of Batman, obviously lying. Dan merely growled and flew through both men, heading straight for the giant monitor. Batman barely suppressed a shiver. Density shifting? Might as well add it to the list. He could see Martian Manhunter, who was in the back of the room, tilt his head at the display.

Dan ignored the room as he used his entire body to manipulate the computer mouse and scrolled back up to the top of the page. Staring intently at the scribbles no one could make out, the heroes could do nothing but shoot each other nervous and confused glances. More than a few of them jumped when Dan chuckled deeply. Honestly, his tiny body was at complete odds with his baritone voice.

"Maybe rehab will be fun if he's letting me do this." Dan sneered, flashing their reflections a sharp fang. No one wanted to ask what exactly he was in rehab for. The little beast turned his gaze to Batman. "You are the one called Batman, who rules the cursed city, correct?" The dark hero nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "Excellent. You will be my chaperone for now, just as Fenton decreed it. Good luck, mortal man. Pray, I do not destroy your home a second time."

Without any time to unpack that conversation, Dan promptly disappeared from view. Some blinking text caught his attention, and Batman scrolled back down to the English text, glancing at the next few items on the list.

Task 2: Do not let Dan read his portion of this letter until you have a way to track him. There is no containing him.

Task 3: Keep him with a chaperone at all times. (If you can)

Task 4: Do not let Dan back into Gotham unless you're fine with a sudden decrease in the clown population.

Task 5: Take him for a walk in Death Valley. He likes hunting lizards.

Task 6: Make sure he goes down for his 2pm nap every day.

Task 7: He'll ask for it, but do not give him any burgers for mealtime. It upsets his stomach.

Task 8: Dan gets ONE(1) sweet after dinner before brushing his teeth. Those green pop rocks Batman always carries will do fine; he likes those. :)

A sudden alarm blared from his wristwatch, making Batman tear his eyes away from the screen, indicating an emergency at Arkham. This time, Batman actually sighed out loud. There was more to the list, but right now, he really needed to find their new charge before he killed the Joker, from the sound of it.

#pondhead replies #anon let me kiss you on the mouth (platonically)#danny phantom #little baby man danny #except he's dan #supervillain danny au #god i can't get the elongated cat meme image out of my head #you are a genius #if you didn't catch it gotham was the city he destroyed #what did fenton tell him to do you ask?#well dan is very good at hunting #causing chaos and bringing certain peoples to justice all over the world #like a reverse santa #he also gave dan permission to go buck wild on the joker if batman brought him to gotham #if batman didn't STOP his escape to gotham #that counts right?#long post #dpxdc

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chlorinecake · 1 month

Text

🍌 forbidden fruit | j.sc

✼ plot: just the reader catching feelings for her younger sister’s swim coach and doing anything she can to get between his legs

✼ word count: 4.8k

✼ contains: swearing, an oc + anton, teasing with food, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex (but he doesn’t finish inside), oral (m.r), fingering (f.r)

YOU WERE CONVINCED THAT that your younger sister was born into this world a mermaid, blessed with gorgeous locks and dazzling brown eyes that earned her the name Hazel at birth.

Though her hair now was often covered by a silicone swim cap with her honey-hued eyes shielded behind waterproof goggles, one thing that remained the same was her ability to swim as if the water simply carried her across its bumping waves.

You remember her first time in a pool like it was yesterday, her legs taking off with more ease than she ever had while walking, meanwhile, you sat idly in a donut floaty, cheering her on with smiles on both your faces.

Since then, Hazel never stopped swimming.

Though, you were more inclined to the creative arts rather than anything sporty.

Unless, the sport in question involved chasing after Hazel’s personal swim coach, Jung Sungchan: a former competitive swimmer himself until he opted to train after a minor injury.

You were careful not to let your eyes linger for longer than necessary whenever you stuck back to watch Hazel practice with him, despite the tantalizing view of Sungchan’s washboard abs poking through his swim shirt, or the way his wet hair clung to his sweaty forehead.

Well, with that description, it’s fair to say that your mind and imagination did all the lingering for you, his lower half being practically burned into your mind the moment you got a glimpse of his bulge one day.

Gosh, you felt like such a loser knowing that your main motivation to accompany your sister at swim lessons these days was for the sake of seeing Sungchan, despite how you'd barely even formed a decent relationship with him.

The key word here being decent-

“Breathe, Hazel, breathe!” Sungchan hollered, distracting you from your thoughts and drawing your attention back to your sister who had just beat her fastest 50 meter lap record of her life.

Sungchan met her at the end of the pool, “Less than 24 seconds,” she huffed proudly, just as he rejected their usual high five and instead, helped her out of the pool.

“What was that all about, hmm?”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Coach. I can hold my breath for a lot longer-”

“Don’t make anymore rookie mistakes, alright? It’s not always about time when we’re training, but efficiency.”

Hazel sighed at his words, taking off her goggles and letting them rest around her neck before looking back up at him, “Let me guess then… bobbing circuits as a punishment?”

“After break,” he smiled sarcastically, patting her on the shoulder while she chuckled at his behavior, walking off to the ladies locker room before passing a look your way, “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Would you mind getting me a snack from my duffel bag? It’s in the floral container.”

“Sure,” you said, uncrossing your legs and getting up from the bleachers while gathering each others things in a backpack.

Sungchan looked at the time on his watch, and it turned out that practice was already over for the day, “On second thought, how about I treat us all for lunch today?”

His offer caught the both of you off guard, “Seriously?,” Hazel questioned, “even after the little stunt I pulled?”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he shrugged, washing some equipment down with a hose.

“Give me twelve minutes to get ready,” she said, skipping to the bathrooms and almost immediately turning on the shower.

You wondered how much you and Sungchan could get away with while your little sister showered.

In a perfect world, your desires would already be a part of your reality by now, instead of something that just kept you entertained during Hazel’s swim classes.

A smirk crept up Sungchan’s deer-like features, shamelessly peeking at you before directing the hose your way, splashing you with a bit of water while giggling to himself.

“What the- stop that, you big freaking dork,” you giggled back, covering your face with your hands while running over to him, grabbing the hose and turning the faucet off.

The way both your hands looked while wrapped around the dark green tube, your smaller ones contrasting with his much larger and veinier ones made your breath stop in your throat for a second, a certain memory of you two resurfacing in your thoughts.

He handed you a towel to dry off, shaking his hair out like a puppy as he took a few steps away from you, your mind finally coming back down to earth.

“My sister seems to be excelling with her training recently… you should really give her more credit for her hard work,” you started, knowing that he'd have a response to that.

“Uhuh,” he replied briefly, leaning down to loop the water hose around its designated hook on the wall, “last time I checked, motivation doesn’t start with fleeting praises, but notable progression.”

“She literally beat a record today, Coach,” you defended, tossing your old towel in the nearby laundry bin.

A bit of silence meddled between you two, your eyes trying their best to be normal as he walked closer to you, every muscle in his body standing out in your peripheral vision, almost making it pointless for you to even try looking away now.

“You already know you can call me Sungchan, ____,” he smirked, hooking a finger in the belt loop of your jeans, “and you’re still wet, by the way... ‘can see it outlining your panties…”

Gosh, you hated how your mind thought of something dirty when those words left his mouth, wanting to disappear as an unbeatable heat raised to your face, all over a brief moment between you two that started and ended with a water hose.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 Later...

The three of you were now eating lunch together at a newly opened seafood bar called Fin & Shell, just a few miles from the training center.

You were all making conversation about the quality of the fish and chips and their odd choice of placing a fruit bowl in the center of the table when Hazel got up to get more napkins, leaving you and Sungchan alone.

Your hand found his thigh under the table before stroking it, dangerously close to his private area.

“Interesting way to get your hands clean,” he joked plainly, making you laugh at yourself a bit before continuing.

“You know there's not a clean damn thing about what I'm doing right now,” you said, fingers tip-toeing around where you wanted to feel him most.

“I know what you want, ____, but I'm afraid you're out of luck these days...”

“And why's that?”

“Because, your sister looks up to me now... I've earned her respect, and it’d only hurt her if she found out about us, let alone our past,” he continued, taking a sip from his drink, “I don't wanna risk it interfering with her athletic progression.”

The fact that Sungchan valued Hazel's well-being more than you in this matter was quite baffling to be honest.

Though, you couldn't help but internally roll your eyes at his empathy, “We’ll just have to be sneaky about it, then,” you tried, hands going back to caress his now tense thighs.

“I’d rather penetrate you with this banana than my dick, ____,” he retorted playfully while picking one from the fruit basket, his cute little smile coming into show despite how you were hardly in the mood to joke around.

You took the banana from his grasp after watching him struggle to open it for a bit, looking him in the eyes while asking, “Can I have a bite?”

“Sure, but don’t be slutty about it,” he teased, looking as your teeth sunk into the banana's sweet flesh, plump lips seductively sealing with the bite before handing it back to him.

The image of you doing that would stain his mind for the next few hours, knowing deep down in the depths of his swim trunks that for professionalism or not, he was gonna get you to look at him like that again real soon.

“Uhhh, you two look strange... What’d I miss?,” Hazel chirped as she came back from her adventure to find napkins, sliding back next to you at the round table.

“Well,” you started, folding your hands over themselves, “Sungchan was just telling me about how he wouldn’t mind giving me beginner's swimming lessons tomorrow.”

“What?! No, I- ngh-,” he groaned, feeling as you applied pressure to his sensitive bulge, one of his hands flying over yours pleadingly as he redirected his initial sentence, “I mean,” he chuckled dryly, struggling to mask the way his facial features were twisting from your actions, “yeah. She’s um… really eager to develop some basic skills herself, y’know? For some sister bonding time…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” you smiled, just as your sister began to speak.

“Oh… okay then! Sounds fun, I guess... Just don’t think I’ll be sharing my anti-fog goggles with you,” she giggled, looking at Sungchan before noticed the uncomfortable look on his face, your hand still pressing firmly against him, “you alright, Coach?”

“Yeah, just a bit... uhm...” he let out a shaky exhale, “sensitive… to my banana allergy...”

You felt his hand overcome yours with strength, making you retreat from your ministrations with a satisfied feeling in yourself.

“Okayyyy…” Hazel replied, raising her eyebrows dumbfoundedly as he got up from the table, pushing his chair in, “I’m gonna go get some water, but you two finish up. I'll be back in a bit.”

Hazel shrugged off the weird vibes y'all were giving off, taking a satisfied bite of the fish sandwich she'd ordered while you finished eating up your fries, finding immense pleasure in how flustered you got Sungchan to become.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 The next day...

You got up early the next morning, skipping your usual coffee run to avoid any 'pool cramps' while swimming as directed by myth Hazel.

You weren’t one to wear swim caps, so you just put your hair in a cute low-maintenance style, packing both you and her a mini snack to bring for the day ahead.

“Welcome, ladies,” Sungchan greeted, clapping his hands from all the energy pulsing through his veins, “There are de-fogged goggles on the rack over there… kudos to Anton for setting those up first thing, by the way.”

Anton?, you asked yourself, the name alone being nowhere near as familiar as the face you soon were met with, popping out of the water with a navy blue swimcap secured around his head, soft eyes meeting yours as an almost inaudible “hi” fell from his lips.

“Oh my God, Anton!” Hazel yelped, hopping in the water before swimming towards the later end of the pool to meet him, “last one back has to do the laundry.”

Almost immediately, your sister and him both took off with kicks like torpedos, meanwhile you tried piecing together where you recognized Anton from, and then it hit you:

He and your little sister used to train more often together back in the day, but after he got scouted for the swim team in New Jersey, you saw less and less of him over time…

Still and all, he looked quite similar to the sheepish boy Hazel used to crush on a few years back, excluding his now matured physique, of course.

They were already back to the wall by time your thoughts stopped, starting up some small talk between each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be back in town?” Hazel asked, out of breath from trying her hardest to out-swim Anton, who beat her by a landslide.

“Honestly I was surprised, myself. One of my mom’s coworker’s oldest son’s are getting married soon, so we flew out to celebrate... We don’t get back til a week from now, though.”

“Awesome! So that means we can spend more time together til you get back to your fancy New Jersey team,” she teased, shoving Anton’s shoulder playfully as he laughed off her words.

“Stop, you know I love it here, Hazel. This place made me who I am as a swimmer today...”

Sungchan suddenly blew the whistle around his neck, “Hazel, you’re supposed to be working on warm up’s and strength training right now. You can lallygag with Anton later, I’ll need his help and focus today.”

“His help? With what? I say this with all due respect, Coach, but aren’t you the professional here?”

“I indeed am… but he’ll be in charge of teaching ____ today.”

You and Hazel’s eyes widened simultaneously at Sungchan’s words, “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he replied plainly, taking off his whistle necklace and tossing it on a nearby table, “Like you said, I’m the expert, and thus, my expertise is needed more with you, Hazel...”

Sungchan walked around the edge of the pool, keeping a steady pace as not to slip on any water as he met you where you sat, “____’s quite the handsy one, but I’m sure little Anton can manage her for the day,” he smirked, pinching your cheek before handing you a pair of goggles and walking off cheekily.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ...

You’ll admit that your swimming lesson with Anton went well, though it was obvious you would’ve much rather spent that time with Sungchan, and you planned to give him a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

You had already showered up by now, approaching him in the pool area with every intent to get something out of him.

“So you making me splash around with a kid my sisters age was your way of getting back at me for the Fin & Shells thing, huh?,” you accused, watching as he put away some wet swimming equipment.

“You can’t make me back down that easily, y’know?”

He glanced at you for a quick second, “And what makes you think that’s my intention?”

“Just the plain fact that you’re scared to continue what we started…”

He narrowed his eyes, flicking the water off his hands before facing you head on, “No, but you should be,” he said, voice falling a little deeper, “you’ve seen me before, and that’s not something most girls are prepared for.”

“Please, don’t be so full of yourself,” you scoffed, mirroring his nonchalant voice as your eyes scanned his movements, legs following him all the way to the empty men’s locker room where he sat on a wall bench to relax, looking back at you with a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“You know?… All that stuff you said about professionalism was bullshit… we’ve crossed that line way long ago, and your size isn’t gonna get in the way… trust me...”

You made your way over to sit on his lap, straddling him with your hands at his shoulders.

“God, you’re so overbearing,” he sighed, your lips immediately finding his jawline, causing his words to fall out as hums instead of coherent syllables, “d’you understand what you’re playing with right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed back, gently nibbling the space underneath his ear.

His hands clung to your loose top as a way to control himself, but also because he wanted more, your hips rocking against his being enough to make him feel needy.

Not that he’d ever admit that to you though…

Your hot and wet kisses started to trail from Sungchan’s neck and to his plush lips, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel him as he mirrored your energy, lips moving in sync.

He was giving in to your ministrations, and you could tell by his breathing, which had become jagged and heavy… not in a submissive way, but with desire.

Frustration, even.

The muscles in his abdomen tensed and relaxed as you went back to kissing his neck, hoping that your lips would leave a mark or two while you were at it, “We can worry about a backup plan later, Sungchan—”

He groaned faintly, just as you pressed your core harder against him, feeling his hardness grow between your thighs.

Sungchan’s mind was getting fuzzy to the point where your words became like background music, present to him, but impossible to really focus on.

And he didn’t like that one bit…

The way you persuaded him so easily, having his dry mouth on the verge of begging you to kiss him again.

If this was gonna happen between you two, he wanted to be the one in charge.

“Fine,” he said sharply, causing you to look into his dark brown eyes, which were still slightly watery from the chlorine in the pool water.

“I just need to make sure you can handle it first,” Sungchan continued, guiding you off of his lap by the waist before digging his thumb into your shoulder, forcing you down to your knees in front of him.

His hands found your hair, leading your cheek to his bulge and lifting his hips to grind into your face slightly, eager to explore the friction but still wanting to test himself.

Test his self-control despite how it was basically out the window by now.

You clung to his toned thighs to keep your balance, eyelids fluttering shut before he smacked you gently on the other cheek, making you look back up at him once again as he rutted a little harder.

“Too big for you, baby?,” he teased, all of that while snickering under his breath, biting his lip before a smirk appeared on his stupid hot face.

It was always strangely exciting honestly… watching him switch from hot to cold, turning himself on just from jumping your cheek.

Everything you’ve been waiting for.

“I can feel you twitching,” you hummed, turning your head to face his heat head on, giving him sirenic eyes as you poked your tongue out, licking a stripe along his clothed member, “can hardly taste you through these pants, though…”

He cooed at your words, stroking your hair as you kept licking him up, a dark spot forming on his pants from your spit and probably some of his precum.

“Can you at least pretend you’re not such an eager slut for me?” He tried teasing, even though his voice sounded a bit strained.

You trailed a finger from his clothed tip to the drawstring of his pants before pulling the bow a loose, “We both know that’s not what you really want, Sungie...”

Shimmying his pants down, you were not at all surprised when his cock sprung out like a hot stinger, slapping against his stomach with an angry vein trailing its underside.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, watching as you didn’t hesitate to take him in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly to adjust to his size, but you could hardly fit more than half of him into your mouth.

“Easy there, ____,” he said in a deepened voice, feeling his balls tighten at the way you gagged around him, trying to fit it all in.

Releasing your lips with a pop, your jerked him with your hand, looking him dead in the eyes before reassuring him, “I can take it.”

“Prove it to me then…,” he challenged you, “or else this is all you’re getting…”

You internally scoffed at his words, “Having second thoughts?”

“No… Just don’t wanna risk breaking you before I even get started properly…”

The top of your tongue found his slit again, running rough stripes past it and suddenly asking, “We’re already taking a risk, why stop here?”

He let you continue fooling around with his dick for a little more until he pulled your chin away, looking you in the eyes-

“Get on your back.”

The voice you heard was enough to make you recognize what was really going on.

“W-what?,” you asked confusedly, having been snapped out of your mind, yet still feeling as though only half of you was present.

“I said get on your back? So we can stretch first?,” Anton said, mirroring the same dumbfounded look you had on your face.

“Oh... sorry, I uh... I got distracted...”

“Its okay,” he answered softly, leading you to the training mat on the floor, “let's just stay focused for now, alright? Once you fully lay down, start by pulling your knees to your chest to stretch out your hamstrings...”

Anton's voice faded into the background of your mind as your body continued to follow his instructions, somewhat thankful for the dark colored fitness clothes you wore considering how wet you'd gotten over your little memory about Sungchan.

It was the first time you actually did anything sexual with him.

It happened over four months ago, but you still remembered the whole thing like it happened yesterday.

Though, Sungchan eventually ended your secret fling for the sake of Hazel, not wanting to hurt her or risk ruining things between you two for 'fleeting feelings.'

Even so, you’d just been so down bad for him all this time that it was getting harder to respect that boundary of his...

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 Later...

Hazel and Anton had ran off to get smoothies together after practice with your permission obviously, Sungchan having stayed back to put the lane lines back in the pool after y’all finished training.

You asked if it was okay for you to hang back in the pool til he shut down the area, just so you could 'work on what you learned.'

He didn't talk to you much, which only annoyed you, leading to your sneaky backup plan to get his attention.

“Sungchanie~,” you sang in a whiny tone, “I need your help!”

“What is it this time?,” he asked, not even looking at you as he busied himself with putting away the tool box he was using.

“My bikini top came off... it floated away…”

“____, stop messing around, alright?”

“I'm serious,” you pleaded facetiously, covering your chest with your arms to sell your performance, “I'd get it myself, but it’s in the deep, so I can't.”

He sighed with a stern look on his face before answering, "Alright, just- … gimme a sec."

Sungchan took off his shirt, tossing it to the side before diving in the pool to fish around for your bra.

He found it pretty quickly, swimming back to the surface while treading with it in his hand.

“This it?” He asked, regardless of how obvious the answer was.

“Mhm…” You nodded back with a lil too much enthusiasm, sitting at the swim steps and waiting for him to go back under the water as you sneakily took off you bikini bottom next, waiting to see his reaction once he came over to you.

Bubbles erupted from his nose underwater, the sight of your bare core causing him to stumble over his trained breathing pattern.

You giggled a bit at his reaction, still covering your tits as his head flew up, shaking the water from his hair in a way that only made you want him more, which obviously wasn't his intention given the look on his face.

“What do you think this is? Some kind of game?” He snapped sharply, tossing your bra to you and using the steps to get out of the pool, just as you reached for his wrist to pull him back.

“Sungchan, wait! I'm sorry—” you started, but his hand left yours anyway, feet moving in the opposite direction of you before a soft "please," left your lips, making him pause in his tracks.

He sighed, “What?,” but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Can't you see that I'm losing my mind over this?” you answered with a defeated voice.

“It's not a good time right now, ____—”

“God, would you stop being so uptight like you don't want this, too?”

“I never said anything like that—”

“Because you don't have to,” you interrupted, cutting him off as a lump formed in your throat, not from sadness, but from exhaustion: you didn't know how much longer you could keep chasing him…

Without hesitation, you started to put your two-piece back on, water splashing a bit with your movements as he stood there coldly, not even looking you in the eye as you continued to speak, “You're right, Sungchan... this is all just a silly little game, and I seriously should've stopped trying a long time ago-”

“Just shut up, alright?” he retorted, looking you in the eyes as his body inched closer towards you, your eyebrows furrowing at the harsh tone of his words.

“Excuse me—”

“You win, ____,” his voice was deeper this time, wet hands finding your neck before caressing up your face, everything going black once he found your lips, sealing the the tension with a kiss, “I'll let you have your way.”

HIs tongue tangled with yours as he pulled you impossibly close to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest before he backed away, hands gripping at everything from your boobs to your hips as he kissed down your sensitive neck.

Your legs subconsciously parting for him as you felt him start to suck at the exposed flesh there.

You don't even remember saying much of anything once he found your bikini, sliding it over as his fingers came into contact with your folds, barely touching you before you started squirming.

“God, you're so dramatic,” he shook his head, applying pressure to your clit with his cold fingers, contrasted with your increasing warmth.

“It’s not my fault you make me this way,” you purred, letting him kiss on you so hard that he left little marks behind, already getting you so worked up that even the simplest of his ministrations seemed intense.

That was when he sped up the movements of his fingers, not even sure how long he'd been at that pace before you started to feel tantalized, wanting to feel his dick before he made you finish.

It was strange though, the way your slick stood out against the water, his fingers gliding in and out of your hole as his thumb circled your sweet spot.

He was making you fall apart, and at that, single-handedly.

“Sungchan~,” you whined shyly, thankful for his arm maintaining your balance as your hands remained around the loop of your bra, giving you something to grab onto as he kept fucking you with his fingers, “I wanna feel you...”

As simple as those four words were, Sungchan knew exactly what you meant and wanted from him, but decided to mess with you nonetheless…

“Baby? You're already falling apart… what makes you think you can handle any more?” he teased, trying to act all tough with you even though he was about to buss in his pants given how unreal you looked in this moment.

Lower lip swollen from the way you bit down on it to hide your sounds, neck sprouting with darkening hickeys, hands clinging to your own tits for leverage, and your wet hair sprawled all over your head...

This was a view that could never get old to him, if he was even lucky enough to see it every single day.

“Please... fuck, just- mmm,” you stumbled over your words, feeling lightheaded as moans fell from your mouth like rehearsed melodies, your back arching even more as his fingers were in knuckle-deep now, your approaching climax causing you to open up for him.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, putting his forehead against yours, thumb relentlessly toying with your clit as he grew more eager in his own pants.

As much as you wanted to refuse his words for the sake of saving your orgasm, you couldn't help but to release, creaming all over his long and slender fingers as you felt your high in every part of your body.

Sungchan didn't hesitate to pull his fingers away from you, sliding down his trousers and spreading your slick across his length under the water.

“You've got another one in you for me, yea?,” he asked, voice sounding rasp as he pressed his tip against you, your trembling thighs struggling to stay open.

“Gimme a sec to come down first,” you nearly begged, watching his eyes grow darker as he pushed through your thighs, hips meeting yours with a splash.

“You know we don't have time for that, ____,” he continued with a suppressed groan, feeling his dick warm up all your insides as he slid past your wetness and bottomed out, guiding your hands from your chest to his shoulders... “just hang on, okay?”

You barely even nodded before he started fucking into you, walls giving in to his size thanks to the water, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt just a little bit.

He caught sight to your discomfort early on, catching your lips with his to keep your mind off the pain, both your breaths sounding shaky now from all the action.

He started to pick up the pace again, not bothering to hide his moans anymore as you clenched around him so hard, he didn't think he'd be able to get back out.

Your wet hands clung to his broad shoulders, glimmered with beads of the pool water from his movements.

Feeling your hips chase his as the pain faded back to pleasure, you knew you were close, especially considering how little time you had between orgasming.

His stamina impressed you honestly, given how he'd been working all day yet still had enough energy to fuck you like this.

A broken whimper fell from his pink lips, words getting lost in his throat even though he had no idea what he wanted to say in this moment.

He was practically intoxicated by the way you made him feel, cursing himself internally for pushing away so many times.

He panted your name out loud, teeth grazing your neck as his head hung in the space provided, feeling weak all of a sudden, “I'm close.”

“Then don't stop,” you huffed back, caressing his pretty face as he chased his high, the water rocking with his movements as he felt his stomach tighten, spurts of his sticky release barely having enough time to coat you before he pulled out, fisting himself in a failed attempt to catch his release.

“Aww, fuck... fuckkk,” he groaned, watching the strings of his cum slip past his fingers and into the water, some of it hitting your legs.

Of course he would've preferred to finish inside you, but he thought it'd be respectful to at least pull out.

You held him close with your thighs around him, giggling a bit at the way he struggled to contain himself.

“You really should've just came inside me, y’know,”you said, feeling a throb in your core after everything.

“Very funny,” was all he said before pulling up his swim trucks and splashing a bit of water on you.

It was interesting seeing how Sungchan could go from hot to playful in a matter of seconds with you.

After everything that'd just happened, the poor guy wasn't at all in the mood to re-clean the pool thanks to the mess you two just made.

So instead, he offered a hand to help you up before carrying you out of the pool, knowing that it wouldn't be easy for you to walk with your legs still shaking.

Neither of you knew how much time you had left til Anton and Hazel came back, but one thing for sure was that you and Sungchan would keep playing this game for a lot longer than planned.

You said so yourself... you'd just have to be more sneaky about it.

⚡︎ Special thanks to @wonbinisbabygurl for requesting this piece ~ (love you princess!!!)

⚡︎ Had to repost this story because the first time around, I wasn't satisfied with the engagement I received ;-; (only 14 notes in 24 hours), so hopefully people see this in the tags this time!!

⚡︎ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @antonartic

⚡︎ Feel free to also check out my RIIZE masterlist

#riize smut #riize #riize sungchan #jung sungchan #sungchan smut #sungchan ff #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #sungchan x reader #riize sungchan smut #sungchan hard hours #riize ff #jung sungchan smut #lee anton

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