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writing-my-time · 15 days

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Meet Me in the Bathroom

Donald Pierce X F!Reader This is the first time I've ever posted anything I've written to Tumblr! This is written for @toxicanonymity's Boyd-a-thon, which was almost perfect timing considering he's become my new blorbo. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: 18+, Smut with minimal plot, alcohol, semi-public sex, fingering, light spanking, over-use of pet names, unprotected sex. Summary: Not even five minutes into your drink, Donald invites you to 'catch-up' in the bathroom. You agree.

Tap tap tap. Tap. The sound is aggravating, the sight even more so.

Donald Pierce slides next to you, practically peacocking his chest out as his robotic digits thrum against the bar table. Each tap of his fingers on the wood makes your eye twitch. Apparently, there’s no escaping the Reaver’s ringleader, not even in a bar right on the outskirts of Laguna Vista. You’ve only been nursing your drink for about five minutes, before he’s made his way over to you. Not even enough time to feel a buzz. He’s got that stupid grin on his face. The one where his gold tooth glints, contrasting his otherwise pearly whites. As the man leans forward, pulling down his red shades to reveal his steely blue eyes, you can’t help but roll your own. Your wordless exchange is one you’ve shared before, though it’s far too early for the two of you to make your way back to wherever he’s staying.

“Oh, c’mon, angel.” He clicks his tongue before sipping his whiskey. “Ain’t like you to refuse a piece.”

You almost choke on your drink, not wanting to stroke the man’s ego with a laugh. Watching as he folds his glasses and tucks them into his jacket pocket, you can’t help but rest your eyes on his chain necklace — Donald notices, chuckling to himself as he leans a little further forward. The chain you’d been admiring now dangles gently off his skin, glimmering slightly as the dim lights of the bar catch it swaying. Soon enough, his whiskied breath hits the shell of your ear, breaking you from your trance.

“I ain’t asking for you to stay the night, princess. Just hoping you’d meet me in the bathroom in a minute or two.” He’s almost pouting, the dirtbag. “Like old times?”

“The fucking bathroom, Don? That’s disgusting” You growl through a whisper.

“Didn’t stop you in New Mexico. Or Lake Charles, or-” “Christ, fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”

God damn it. You chew down on your lip, shutting your eyes to avoid the cocky eyebrow wriggle he’s most likely doing. Why did that work on you? Why does he work on you? Goosebumps pimple your skin as he pulls away. Like you expected, he’s wiggling his eyebrows. Without another word, he shifts off of his seat, swaggering away to the bathrooms, looking back at you with a smirk, he slips an ‘out-of-order’ sign onto the door of the disableds. You swing back your drink with haste.

---

It takes about two minutes for you to convince yourself to actually follow him. Quickly, you make your way across the room in an effort to stay unnoticed by the bar’s other patrons - though, they all seem too wrapped up in their own business to notice two people entering the same bathroom. As you push open the creaky door, you’re met almost instantly with the strong frame of Donald Pierce. Both flesh and cybernetic hands make their way down your sides, and his predatory grip tightens around your waist. Pulling you into the bathroom entirely, Don kicks the door closed with his foot before pressing you up against the cold wood. You still have enough time to look around the bathroom before his lips latch onto your neck. Like you suspected, it wasn’t exactly clean.

The walls have some kind of mold growing up the side, and in truth, the floor is no better. God knows what the actual amenities look like. There’s a faint droning of the harsh fluorescent light above you, but that holds nothing in comparison to the sound of Don’s throaty chuckle as his hands begin to guide you over the sink.

“You’re not bending me over that thing.” You try to dig in your heels, but you know he’s far too strong to be stopped. That, and you don’t really want him to. “Don, it’s filthy.”

“Stop whining.”

“Don, you’re not fucking me-”

“-I said stop whining.” He cuts your protests off short, turning and forcing you to grip the sides of the decrepit sink as he pushes you against it. “Now, be a good girl and look in the mirror.”

Hearing his order makes your cheeks burn, and you lift your head to catch his image in the mirror. You watch the reflection with shaky breath as Don hikes your skirt up and drags your panties halfway down your thighs. With your eyes focusing on Don, you catch him throwing his head back, growling in frustration to himself before he unbuckles his belt. He drags his tongue over his teeth, flitting his eyes between the sight of your warmth, slick and wanting, and your blushing face in the mirror.

“Wish I could take my time with you.” He admits with a growl, lazily pushing the waistband of his pants under his balls, pumping his cock a few times in preparation. “Shit, I’d worship your pussy if you let me, angel. But we don’t got time.”

You’re about to quip back to him that it was his choice to fuck in the bathroom, but the air is forced out of your lungs as he delves two freezing cold metal fingers into your pink slit. Already, you know he’s not planning on keeping his cybernetic digits there for long; simply working your wetness enough to make room for his thickness. When a moan threatens to escape your lips, you have to remove your gaze from the mirror entirely. Don clicks his tongue, hastily pulling his hand away from your core. “Thought I told you to look, pretty girl.” The southern man reaches forward and grips your jaw, steering your head back to the direction of the mirror.

Once again, you’re met with your own reflection. You watch through half-lidded eyes as Don grips his length in his hand, coating it in the slick he had gathered from your core. It’s mesmerizing, the way his tip is already red and weeping in his tight grasp. He knows you’re looking, and rewards your focus with a gentle love tap of his cock against your folds. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d bark at him to get a condom, but that’s more time you don’t want to lose. After a heated exhale from Don, he pushes forward.

While this isn’t the first time his girth has invaded your walls, the pure thickness of him forces a choked gasp from deep within your chest. The man has yet to move, instead he dips his head down, clearly in his own bubble of ecstasy while your wetness envelops him with ease. Don’s hands grip your hips with enough strength to leave bruises, and without warning the Reaver pulls himself completely out, only to ram himself back in. His pace is vicious; the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the dingy bathroom. All you can do is bite down on your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet, watching through glassy eyes as Donald’s reflection fucks into you with a snarl.

“Fuck, angel,” He rasps, catching your eyes in the mirror. “Don't you look so pretty takin’ my cock like this?”

You nod, earning a harsh slap to your ass with his flesh hand.

“Words, baby. You know I like that pretty lil’ voice of yours.”

“I look pretty.” You manage to squeak out through high-pitched whimpers.

“Good girl.”

His praise is accentuated by his cybernetic hand snaking around your waist and slipping between your soaked folds. Finding your clit, he circles it with an equally brutal pace as his thrusts. There's a knot in your stomach, and already you’re feeling it begin to snap. It's as if he knows, digging his free hand in your hip for better leverage to fuck you even harder; now hitting deep enough inside you to make you need to scream. Instead, you clamp your teeth down around your hand, moaning into the bitten skin. You're so close it hurts.

“Does my pretty girl wanna cum?”

Again, you nod. This time you don't get spanked. When you focus on the mirror, you see Don's face begin to twist into pure bliss. He's close too. In his one moment of being a gentleman, he clearly wants you to cum first, or at least at the same time. Throwing his head back, Don lets out a low growl.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Let me feel it.”

On command, your body spasms, a quick and powerful release clamping down around him while you whine into your hand. You can't help but squint your eyes shut, feeling the final staggered thrusts from Don before he pulls out with barely enough time to spare. All you can hear is his throaty grunts, right before thick ropes of his release coat your ass. He slumps over your body for a moment, syncing with your own heavy breaths before finally pulling back and admiring his work. The reaver gives your left cheek a gentle smack before pulling your skirt back down over it. He's pocketed your panties. Jerk. As you pull back with shaky legs, you aren't surprised to see he's already tucked himself back in, zipping up his fly as your eyes meet his. Can't exactly have pillow talk in a disabled bathroom, can you? The look he gives you isn't one you've seen before, but you can guess what it means.

“Gotta go?” You assume, finally exhaling a stable breath.

“You know it, angel. Nature of the job.” He shoots you the same shit eating grin as before, making sure to add in a wink this time for good measure.

With that, Donald exits the bathroom without so much as a goodbye. You rest your arms back against the sink, shaking your head as you laugh at your own expense. A minute later, you follow suit, creaking open the toilet door and removing the out-of-order sign. The man is nowhere to be seen, leaving an empty feeling you’d much prefer to drink away than acknowledge. When you head back to your original seat at the bar, the tender sets down a pretty pink cocktail with a note.

See you later, pretty girl. - D. x ---

Thank you for reading! Feedback, thoughts, and other ideas welcome. Maybe more Holbrook boy fics in the future :) Big thank you to @justeverythingprettymuch for hyping me up to post this <3

#boyd a thon #boyd holbrook #donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #logan 2017 #donald pierce smu #goose writing

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honey-im-hotdog · 1 year

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Make Me Melt

Ty Shaw x reader

Author’s Note: Look this is short, I know. BUt there is nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, for this man and I have to change that damnit! He deserves better, this sweet angel baby! I hope you enjoy!

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Words: 0.7k

Warnings: pet names (baby, darlin’, and sweetheart); mention of cotton candy; the fair; earrings, but could be read as clip-ons or the pierced kind (and even then the type of earring isn’t specified); fluff, like too much. I think that’s all.

Summary: A little sweet moment between reader and Ty while they’re on a date at the fair.

Check out my other stuff :)

———————————

“Oh, look!” You grab Ty’s hand and start tugging him along, “C’mon, c'mon!”

He chuckles as you somewhat manhandle him to the booth with handcrafted jewelry. He seriously can’t get over how excited you are—how excited you’ve been all day, honestly. When he had first suggested going to the annual fair for a date, he hadn’t expected you to jump at the idea. And even then he had wrongfully assumed you two would mostly walk around, enjoying the colors and sounds and smells, and the joy radiating throughout the place. Maybe go on the ferris wheel, let him win some stuffed animal for you.

But oh boy, was he way off! If he had been any less enamored with you, he’d probably complain about his hand cramping from how tight you’d squeeze it in excitement. You had nearly bounced in your seat the whole way to the fair since he picked you up; and then squealed every time you saw something you wanted to check out. And to think that you hadn’t even made it to the cotton candy stall yet…

“Ooh. These are so beautiful!” Ty zones out as you converse with the girl manning the stall. He can’t take his eyes off you. The pure joy vibrating off of your body is enough to fill the place single-handedly. He finds the lights and colors reflecting in your wide eyes more beautiful than the actual thing. For the hundredth time that day, Ty asks himself, how did I get so lucky?

He zones back in when you let his hand go to pick up two earrings, one on the daintier side, and the other chunkier.

You hold each one up to your ears and look in the small mirror attached to the stall. “Hmm, they’re both so pretty. I don’t know,” you blink at your reflection. Turning to your boyfriend, you ask him what he thinks.

Ty’s first reaction is to giggle at how serious you look, but then he schools his expression into a faux serious one, with his lips pouting and brows furrowed. He lightly pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your face this way and that, as he hums. “I like this pair,” he indicates the ones in your right hand.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Frames your face better,” he gives a too-serious nod.

You laugh and pivot back to the girl, handing over the pair he had picked out and putting the other one back. “How much?” you ask as you look down into your tote bag for your wallet. However, when you turn to hand over the money, you notice Ty having paid already.

When you whine out his name, he chuckles and replies with: “Lemme treat ya, baby.”

And god, does the way he says “baby” melt your insides.

Ty throws an arm around your shoulders as you both move on from the booth. You’re still admiring your newest purchase when you feel your boyfriend tug you to a stop. Looking up with a curious expression, you’re met with his brilliant smile.

“Well? C’mon, put ‘em on!”

You smile, a bit bemused, and shrug your shoulders up, “What, now?” He nods in response. You laugh a little as you reply, “Ty, I might need a mirror—”

Before you’re even finished with your sentence, he says, “‘s okay, you got me, darlin’,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your hands, which had been holding up the earrings, fall down to your sides and your shoulders shag, mouth falling open slightly. His words melting you right into a puddle. You lean into him, hiding your face against him, and you whine out his name again, “You can’t just say things like that to me!”

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as he envelopes your shoulders underneath his arms, one hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you tighter into him. “Why not, baby?”

“Because you turn me into goo!” Your hands fist his shirt by his hips and tug him closer. “Stop making me fall deeper in love with you, Tyler!”

You feel his warm breath against your head as he nuzzles you, “No can do, sweetheart.”

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toxicbrothel · 3 months

Note

POV

f!reader x Donald Pierce (Logan 2017 villain)

I8+ Dark fic, captivity, noncon touching

A pit forms in your stomach when the nurse calls your name. It’s the same nurse you’ve observed stuffing rolls of cash into her purse, thinking no one could see her do it. Dirty money for sure, and you have a feeling you’re about to find out how she gets it. Someone is here to pick you up, supposedly to transfer you to another hospital to confirm your non-mutant status. The shady nurse takes you gently by the arm and walks you to a room with folded chairs and photography equipment scattered around. You've been through that whole process already, and being back in the room makes you uneasy. It doesn't help that the handsome man reclining in that chair doesn’t look like hospital transport at all. He’s wearing two big rings, smoking a cigarette, and has a tattoo on the front of his throat.

“Mr. Pierce,” the nurse admonishes him. “Can you please put that out?”

He pinches out the lit end of the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, flicks it to the floor, then raises his hands in defense. That's when you see his bionic arm. He uncrosses his legs, and the clap of his massive boot on the floor makes you jump. Now he’s manspreading with his large hands clasped in his lap.

The nurse thanks him and walks toward the exit.

“Pleasure doin’ business,” he mutters under his breath as he shamelessly checks you out. The deep, smooth voice has caught you off guard. A gold tooth sparkles from the front of his mouth. He claps his hands down on his knees and asks, “What do we got here?” as he stands up. He’s massive, towering over you. He’s wearing a black tactical vest under his long, dark leather jacket. He is sturdy, and your body reacts in a way you wish it wouldn't.

You stand in the middle of the room, helpless in a hospital gown. He clasps his hands behind his back and slowly paces in a half circle around you, his eyes eating you up like a piece of meat. “Not every day I pick up a woman,” he murmurs. “Normally, people know before adolescence if they’re a mutant. . .”

“And I’m not,” you mumble futilely. You’re not even sure how you got on the list.

“Well, we’re gonna prove it,” he tells you. For a moment, you’re unsure if it’s a threat or reassurance, but your gut tells you it’s not a good thing. The air around him radiates violence. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go.” He extends his hand for you. When you not only don’t reach out, but also shake your head no, he loses patience and mutters, “Alright, c’mere. Damn.”

He lunges toward you, bends his knees, and uses his bionic arm to hoist you over his shoulder with much less effort than it would take with flesh and muscle. It gives you butterflies between the legs the way he does things with such ease.

“Ow,” you whimper with the crook of his metal elbow pinching your side as he carries you.

“You’re alriiight,” he sing-songs, then reaches his non-bionic hand under your gown and stabilizes the weight with a hand on your ass, cool rings pressing into your flesh. He walks slowly toward a huge, armored vehicle. Its double back doors are already open. He nudges his thumb into your panties while he's at it, and you gasp at the feeling of him prodding your wet little hole. “Mmm,” he hums.

“Don’t,” you whisper. He removes his thumb from your panties and hoists you off his shoulder and into the truck. There’s lab equipment, medical supplies, and a cage. Your eyes fixate on the enclosure, and your heart races. You try to back up out of the truck, but his bionic arm lets him wrangle you back with ease. You struggle as he forces you into the cage.

Once he has you sitting still, his bionic hand around your jaw makes you look at him, only a few inches away. His gold tooth sparkles menacingly and his stare is ice cold as he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head forward. He lowers his voice. “You need to be good,” he warns.

-----

tysm for reading! and a big ty to @clawdee for the options. 💕

Most of my fics are on main, @toxicanonymity

#brothel sleepover 💕#POV #POV: Suspected Mutant #Donald Pierce #Donald Pierce x reader #Donald Pierce x f!reader #toxicbrothel ☠️#toxicbrothel #hiding some spoilery tags by putting this long tag in front of them #cw kidnapping #cw manhandling #female reader #size difference #cw unwanted touching #cw size kink #700 words #boyd holbrook #marvel fic #boyd bungalow ☠️

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strawberrysunsets · 4 months

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The Empty World (Ch. 10)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant sets out on their first assignment for Transigen, amid mounting tension with the Reavers.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mention of cannon death, mention of cannon torture, mention of cannon suicide, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Hiiiii yes tis I another six months later lol hope you enjoy💓

It was late when you woke the next day. The alarm clock by your bed flashed red digits– 3:00pm – and you only had a moment to float in the thoughtless peace of waking before a knot of anxiety settled in your stomach.

While last night’s encounter with Pierce was still fresh in your mind – a little thrill of revulsion dancing through you at the thought – it wasn’t the cause for your nerves. Nor was it the constant worry over whether Laura and the other mutants were safe. No; the adrenaline mounting in your system as you stumbled to the bathroom to brush your teeth was solely a result of the fact that after a week of waiting, and briefing, and training your injured shoulder back into shape, the day of your assignment had finally arrived.

You washed your face, drying it with a hand towel before dressing in the uniform you’d laid out the day before.

You hadn’t lasted long in high school before taking to the road, but you remembered the feeling of walking into a room to take a test you knew you weren’t prepared for. This was something like that. Except you were surrounded by literal enemies, here – not just the disapproving gazes of teachers – and the stakes of this test were life and death. If you failed this assignment, would Transigen even bother keeping to your deal? Or would they decide you were of more use to them chained to a table in a lab than out in the field?

…and if you succeeded? You’d tried not to think about it. But how many lives might suffer the consequences of Zenith Lab’s scientist falling into Transigen’s hands?

You found yourself gripping the edge of the table by your window, your knuckles turning white as you stared emptily out at the view before you. The empty lot, where last night, you'd confronted Pierce. You turned away, massaging your temples. It was an exercise in futility, trying to predict the possible outcomes of your actions. For now, only one thing was certain: as long as you worked for Transigen, Laura and the others were safe. Or as safe as you could make them. And they'd been through enough. You squeezed your eyes shut against the barrage of horrible images your mind threatened to dredge up from Gabriela's video. You had to focus.

Your mission was simple.

The target was Zenith Lab’s complex, a skyscraper in the downtown core of Mexico City with a security system designed specifically to keep intruders like Transigen’s agents out. So, for the Reavers to gain entry to the building, that security system had to be disabled. There was only one issue: the security hub lay on the high rise’s twenty-seventh floor, and no aircraft could deploy an air team to reach it without being detected by the lab’s scanners. Something smaller, though–say, a winged mutant–wouldn’t trip those sensors. There was a reason Clark, the security coordinator, had had you memorizing floor plans for a week.

It would be up to you to take out the security mainframe, allowing the Reavers access to the building.

Seeing as I’m carrying this whole damn plan on my shoulders, you thought, sifting through the equipment you’d acquired from the recon manager– you’d think this job would at least come with dental. But no; just the slim promise of freedom for Laura and the other mutants, and an even slimmer paycheck.

You pulled on the bullet proof vest and slotted the taser into its holster at your hip–silently glad they’d only given you nonlethal means of disarming the guards–then examined the final item in your kit. It was an armpiece, meant to be worn like a cuff around your bicep. Upon turning it over, the only identifying information you could find were a barcode and manufacturer’s label, and you scrutinized it for a moment before putting it on.

A tracker? To make sure you stayed on course? It seemed superfluous, since you weren’t going anywhere with Transigen’s threat looming over Laura and the others. And since Clark had said you’d be out of radio contact until you’d disabled the mainframe to avoid detection, it couldn’t be a transmitter of any sort. What, then?

You mulled over the question as you made your way through the lab’s stark hallways, even as you mentally reviewed the stages of tonight’s plan. Fly to Zenith Labs. Break in through the roof door, which would be locked but unguarded, then take out whatever skeleton staff were on the nightshift at the security hub. Finally, meet Pierce and his Reavers as they executed the rest of the plan, and get the hell out of dodge.

Simple, if not exactly easy.

The rest of the late day passed in the same gray blur as all your days at Transigen, different only because of your mounting anxiety.

Nightfall found you in the lobby as a Reaver named ‘Kills’ dispersed earpieces to Reavers who waited impatiently by the door or cracked jokes in groups along the walls. There were less than a dozen in total; all the same rough, macho-sadist types who seemed drawn to the Reaver corps like moths to a flame. You stood out amongst them like a sore thumb, even as you tried to make yourself invisible. It would've been hard enough to keep a low profile as the only non leather-wearing, gun-toting one among them, let alone the only woman, mutant, and goddamn avian. As it was, you tried to look as cold and disinterested as possible in order to repulse their attention. Pierce hadn’t yet appeared, and it was with a mixture of dread and anticipation that you thought of running into him tonight.

Finally the Reavers began moving towards the lab’s doors, and you followed them out, the night air quickly snapping everything into hyperfocus.

It was a warm, humid night, and the sounds of the city felt alien to you after days in the quiet sterility of the lab. It felt like ages since you’d last walked a city’s streets, and been a part of that noise. Some part of you wondered if you ever would again.

Three black trucks were parked in a line down the lab’s drive, and the Reavers were moving around them and climbing inside. Someone directed you towards one, and you climbed inside, pulling your wings in tight to avoid brushing the doors.

There were five Reavers already inside the truck, and all glanced up as you entered, save the man typing away on a laptop. Their faces were cold and dispassionate, but beneath that mask, you recognized a plethora of emotions. Disgust. Hatred. Malicious interest. Once again, your instincts told you to run –that this was a tiger’s cage, and you were a fool for stepping into it.

But these assholes aren’t hunting me anymore, you thought to yourself, forcefully. They already won. I’m here by choice.

The truck’s door slid shut behind you, and you set your jaw. Go figures the actual mission would be the least of your problems tonight. These men seemed primed for a fight, and you could feel their sights quickly settling on you.

“You can sit down here, doll,” a man with a thick bullet-proof vest and an abundance of side holsters said, grinning as he nodded to his lap. “C’mon over.”

You glared at him, and lowered yourself into the nearest empty seat. “I’d rather not catch whatever brain-eating disease you have,” you snapped back, “thanks.”

“Damned if we gotta work with a fucking mutey,” one of the other men muttered, clicking his gun into its holster emphatically.

“Hey, she’s on our side, now!” Another laughed. He had stubbled cheeks and a purple bandana tied around his neck. “Gonna help us take out her own kind, just like that albino traitor,” he taunted lazily. “Ain’t that right, girl?”

A hot flush of anger overtook you, along with a sudden sense of claustrophobia at the van’s tight quarters. They don’t get to fucking mention Caliban. For a moment there was a loud buzzing in your ears, and a tide of memories and pain threatened to overwhelm you. Then you shoved the thoughts of Caliban back behind their wall , and turned on the Reavers.

“We’re not hunting mutants tonight, piss-brain,” you shot back at the man with the bandana. “Did you miss the briefing? I know reading comprehension is above your paygrade, but it’s a fucking scientist you’re after.”

It felt good to see the man’s gaze darken. “Guess that depends if we find any,” he replied, lip curling in a humorless smile. “Who knows what they’re hiding up there?” He leaned towards you conspiratorially, revealing the line of tattoos that stretched down his neck below the bandana. “Me, I'm hope there’s a few mutts,” his smile grew colder, and his eyes raked over your face in search of a reaction. “It’d be nice to have a little target practice.”

Heat prickled down your spine, and you didn’t break his gaze. You weren’t going to be baited by this asshole.

One of the other men–the bald one–was smiling, too; the same lazy malice written on his face as he watched you. “It has been a while since we got some hunting in,” he agreed. “Heard those kids gave quite the chase. But I’m sure ol’ Wolvey took the cake.”

Your skin flushed hotter before you could get a handle on yourself.

“How many shots did he take before he went down?” The bald man continued, turning to the other quizzically as bandana-man pursed his lips in thought. “Fuck, gotta be two-dozen?” He smiled, turning his gaze back to you as he let out a low whistle.

The tension in the truck was thick as tar, and finally even the man on the laptop looked up, glancing between you and the Reavers.

The buzzing in your mind felt like it was growing louder, like a freight train overtaking you; and all at once, the hot, prickling sensation on your skin resolved itself into something familiar. Something like crackling energy, and an awful golden light lurking just beyond your fingertips.

The blood drained from your face.

“You know ‘bout that, feathers?” The first man was asking, leaning forward as if in earnest. “Naw, she wasn’t there,” the other Reaver replied. “Missed the whole thing! Gotta tell her about it.”

What would happen if your powers returned, here and now? If your Ether flared inside this truck?

You had no idea, but you doubted there’d be any survivors.

And would that be so bad? Some dark part of you whispered, lulling you towards the crackling energy. To end this awful game, and go out with a fucking bang? To take some of these assholes with you?

Some distant, reasonable part of you was shouting for your attention, but far nearer was the forgefire of everything you’d shoved behind a wall in your mind. It was rage, and fear, and months of unprocessed grief–and that dam wasn’t going to hold forever.

Somewhere outside the truck, there were voices, and engines revving–but they seemed far away compared to the dark, taunting eyes of the men before you. One little slip, one burst of energy–and they’d be gone, and you’d be gone from this place.

The stillness of the truck was shattered as the front passenger door swung open, and a familiar figure climbed inside, blond hair tousled from the wind. The man with the bandana leaned back in his seat, breaking eye contact, and the bald man smiled sardonically as he shifted away, too.

“Boys,” Pierce greeted, his gaze roving over the Reavers before settling on you. “Playin’ nicely?”

The heat was high in your cheeks, and the buzzing in your mind still grappled for your attention as you tried to regain control. Now’s not the time to lose it, you told yourself, trying to shove the energy back behind its wall. Not with so much on the line. You couldn’t be so selfish.

You could feel Pierce’s gaze on you, and from the corner of your eye you saw when the man on the computer glanced up, briefly locking eyes with Pierce as they seemed to exchange some sort of information. Pierce sat back in his seat, sighed once through his nose, then swung back out of the truck. You barely registered it when he appeared at your side door, sliding it open and taking hold of your arm as he pulled you back out into the night.

Too surprised to resist, you landed on the sidewalk, and he shoved the door shut behind you, suddenly cutting you off from the scene within.

“What are you doing?” You asked dumbly, slowly returning to yourself as he shepherded you down the walkway. Pierce only snorted, directing you towards one of the other trucks. “C’mon, baby,” he drawled, opening its door and herding you inside. “We're gonna ride recon.”

***

The inside of the recon truck was quiet as it rumbled through the city streets, lights and the occasional bright storefront flashing past outside. The radio played a late-night mexican station and the transceiver crackled with brief messages and replies from the convoy, while the man in the passenger seat watched what appeared to be a live feed from outside Zenith Labs.

They were headed to a drop point, from which you’d get airborn and make your way to the building while the Reavers followed from the ground.

Pierce was listening to the transceiver's chatter, judging by the tilt of his head, and idly adjusting one of the components of his mechanical arm as the driver wove the truck through the midnight streets. The Reaver Commander wore his usual fatigues, black t-shirt, and leather jacket; but now with the addition of a kevlar vest, and holsters on either side of his hips. He was ready for a fight; but then again, he always looked ready for a fight.

Finally, Pierce sighed.

“I spent plenty of time around soldiers,” he said conversationally, shifting back against the truck's netted wall. “After a while, you learn the look of someone who’s about to break.” He met your gaze briefly, knowingly, as he twisted the metal dial that was his forearm in a series of smooth clicks.

You looked away, trying not to think about what had happened with the Reavers in the other truck. How you’d almost lost control. So easily, so quickly–and still, how the energy behind your mind’s wall seemed agitated, like a pot of water on too high heat.

“Seen it happen,” Pierce continued. “Watched ‘em puke up their guts, or run for home…usually at the first fight, or first kill. First time facing bad odds,” he smiled drily. “And I wouldn’t care a whit about you going haywire on us,” he sighed, “except I seen what you can do when you break.”

That day on the overpass. A car wreck, and an explosion of swirling golden Ether.

You winced, and you could feel your usual composure eluding you. You knew that bits of your feelings were getting through; the shame. The anger. Fear. There was no stopping them. You swallowed, taking a deep breath. The least you could do was try to settle your stomach. There was a chance you might lose control and vaporize someone tonight, but you were not going to puke.

Pierce was unfazed, staring at you as he leaned back. “Thing is, baby-" His mouth curved in an unfeeling smile. “-there’s a whole lot of people riding on tonight’s little operation. So I'll thank you not to blow the whole thing sky-high before we even get started.”

“I’m not going to jeopardize your precious little kidnapping mission,” you snapped back. “I’m not going to break.”

There was a beat of silence, and you returned your gaze to the window as you ignored the hollowness of your own words.

In truth, you were relieved beyond measure that he’d pulled you away from the Reavers in that moment. You didn’t know what might have happened if you’d stayed, and didn’t want to consider it. Stupid, perceptive bastard. As it was, you still felt like your control was balancing on a knife’s edge–and the mission which that afternoon had felt impossible now felt like a death sentence. If you wanted to get through this, you couldn’t delve into your feelings. You had to do –not think. Not feel.

“I’m not going to break,” you breathed, repeating it more to yourself than anyone else. Pierce sighed through his nose, not bothering to argue the point, then leaned forward and tugged at one of the straps of your vest, unfastening it.

“Hey–” you jerked away in surprise. His lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes. “Let me help you, sugar. You done it up all wrong.”

Your breathing grew shallow as he leaned forward, his hands working deftly to pull the strap from its loop.

This close, his stature was even more intimidating than usual; your entire world taken up by his tall frame and thick arms. As if sensing your thoughts, Pierce smirked. His face was shadowed in the darkened car, but you could feel it. Asshole.

"Easy, baby. Can't have your gear on wrong, now, can we?"

His arms encircled you as he crossed the straps behind your back, and for a moment the warmth of his biceps pressed into your shoulders, and you could smell the musky, cheap scent of his aftershave. You turned your eyes skyward, ignoring the proximity of his neck and jaw, and tried to keep your thoughts from straying inevitably towards last night. Futilely. Your cheeks reddened.

Then he was before you once more, fastening the straps tightly; his face shadowed, though the flash of the streetlamps illuminated the skull and crossbones inked across his neck. You made a mental note to mention to him how tacky the tattoo was, as soon as you'd regained your focus. Right now, you were too distracted; torn somewhere between the vile, magnetic pull of him, and the unnervingness of his physicality. Even without his robotic arm, he was frighteningly strong-and exactly the wrong kind of person to wield that power.

Still, his proximity calmed a small part of you by some infinitesimal amount. For even after witnessing your near loss of control, Donald Pierce didn’t seem scared of you. And in some way, that helped you feel less scared of yourself. Even if his character tended to counteract that effect.

He finished with the vest, and you took a breath, nerves zinging as he leaned away.

“There you go, sweetheart. All good,” he said, half mocking.

You thought his assessment over, but then his gaze fell to your arm. You’d almost forgotten the armband, but Pierce reached forward to grip your bicep, turning it into his view. His hands were firm; clinical in their assessment, but still the smirk remained.

“No one told you how to put the damn thing on?” He asked, fiddling with something on the armband so that it clicked more firmly into place.

“I didn’t exactly get workplace training,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady and unbothered by your racing heart.

The truck was beginning to slow, finally, and you examined the sharp lines of his face in the halflight. “What is that thing, anyway?”

Pierce sat back, finally widening the space between you as he took his radio from the wall, slotting it into his belt.

“Technical,” he replied. “Keeps your gear from emitting frequencies scanners might pick up while you’re on the way in.”

You processed this information, idly straightening your shirt as the van rolled to a stop. Sometimes it was easy to forget that beyond the gun-obsessed, vaping, muscle-shirt wearing exterior, Pierce was smart. You'd worked as a mechanic, and were a dab hand at fixing basic wiring and the like-but Pierce was on another level. He'd designed his own mechanical arm out of advanced robotics, along with the enhancements on other Reavers-and seemed to have a disturbingly good understanding of things like energy signatures and transmissions. Power, in the worst possible hands.

You heard other engines cutting off outside, and Pierce leaned forwards, pulling open the truck's side door as the night wind rushed in. You climbed unsteadily out, wings flaring for balance as you found your footing on the rocky ground.

The place where the trucks had stopped appeared to be a dusty, dead-end road, slightly elevated from the rest of the city by a small hill. It was bordered on one side by a chainlink fence, and on the other by a grassy expanse which led down towards the roofs of some houses.

“Now, you do what you gotta do to hold up your end of the bargain tonight, sugar,” Pierce said, swinging out of the truck after you. “No room for anything else. We’re gonna be right behind you.” He grinned. “In spirit, if not in the flesh.”

The truck stopped across from you was the one from before, and as you watched, the Reavers from within climbed out to lean against the doors or hang from the windows. Purple bandana leaned against its side, while the bald man watched from the open door. His gaze was gloating, but you ignored it. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that they were all watching you-sizing you up; as if waiting for something.

Pierce leaned against the recon truck, his tall frame impossible to ignore at your back; and you realized what they were all waiting for.

You. Of course they were going to watch you take off; for you were a freak, and they had front row seats to the show.

A pang of anxiety shot through you at the thought. You'd always known how much the Reavers hated you; hated all mutants-but it was a different beast to feel it. This was truly what you were to them. An aberration; some strange, depraved mistake that nature made, and on which they had the chance to profit. You didn't feel confidant under their scrutiny, but you sure as hell weren't going to show them how much it rattled you.

Might as well make it worth their while, you thought, jaw clenching. You took a few anticipatory breaths, and bounced on the balls of your feet as you worked up your courage.

Just do. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Take the damn sociopath's advice, and do what you have to do to get through the night.

“Catch you on the other side,” Pierce grinned, wolflike in the darkness.

Without waiting to reply, you took a running start towards the grassy slope. The air was cool on your hot cheeks as you sprinted, leaving all thought behind. The chainlink fence and red roofs of the houses at the bottom of the slope grew nearer, and then your feet left the ground, and the sudden sensation of weightlessness hit you like a wall as your wings fanned out on either side.

They’d chosen a good take-off point. The natural updraft of the hill caught you almost immediately, carrying you effortlessly up and away from the shrinking roofs.

Your newly-healed muscles ached at the exertion, but the ache was dull, dampened by the sudden thrill of flight. It felt like leaving it all behind; like escaping the tethers of your mind, and throwing fear to the wind.

How long had it been, since you really flew ? But you couldn’t think about that now; only the task ahead.

Far below, truck doors slammed as Reavers climbed back inside and the black vans pulled away from the drop point. And high above, you wheeled towards the city; focus honed to a single point of intent as you worked to pick out the dark shape of one specific skyscraper among the rest.

Taglist:

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#fanfic #donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #boyd holbrook #donald pierce x you

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e-dubbc11 · 3 months

Note

Always love a good sleepover 😆❤️

So.... I hope you're ready to have another go at Donald Pierce, cause I would love to request "Ah, so you aren't heartless after all" and "Whatever happens, don't let go of my hand."

And twist? Reader is a mutant... pretty please 🫣❤️

My lovely Lily,

I do love how you like to push me out of my comfort zone just a little bit. I had a hard time coming up with a mutant power for this but once I figured it out, I got really excited! So you asked for Donald Pierce and a Mutant Reader, I hope I did justice to your ask. 😘♥️

Under the Influence

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Donald Pierce x F! Mutant Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ PLEASE or I’m telling on you!) Oral F! Receiving, P in V sex, some fluff, some angst, some swear words.

Word Count: 3.2K-ish

Summary: Living a low key life in Mexico, you meet Chief of Security at Alkali-Transigen, Donald Pierce. But you haven’t told him what you are, you’re afraid to.

A/N: This is my second time writing for Pierce. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The business card you were holding in your hand felt expensive, thick card stock, raised lettering, but there wasn’t a lot printed on it.

Alkali-Transigen

Donald Pierce

Chief of Security

The card had two phone numbers on it, his cell phone and the main phone number for Alkali-Transigen. Aside from being a little bit scary, Donald Pierce was very attractive, charming, and sweet, although he would NEVER let anyone else see that side of him.

He put on his tough exterior when he barked orders at his Reavers but with you, he turned on his charm and that southern drawl pulled you in like a moth to a flame.

You worked at a local school, teaching English and after a particular tough day, Donnie and his Reavers walked into the bar you and some co-workers were having a drink at.

It didn’t take him long to approach you and even though he wasn’t necessarily your type, you felt butterflies in your stomach when he did. His mechanical arm startled you at first, the sight of it made you recoil slightly.

“You ain’t gotta worry about that, darlin’. It ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m just a little bit enhanced, is all.” He said with a sly smile, moving the fingers of the bionic arm back and forth as he talked.

It’s only natural that being in Mexico, the drink of choice was tequila and Donnie liked good tequila, the kind you can slowly sip on, let it roll around on your tongue, and enjoy. You let him choose the tequila and it did not disappoint.

His sky blue eyes gazing at you as he took a sip from his glass, he never looked away from you, and hung on your every word.

After a couple of drinks, he and his Reavers left but he left you wanting more. That slow sexy voice sent shivers down your spine as he traced a line from your shoulder to your wrist with just one finger. ONE FINGER had you falling apart, had you clenching your thighs together, and had you desperately wanting to see him again.

**********

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you stared at that card, your fingers gently brushed against the raised letters and you said out loud, “Transigen.” Suddenly your eyes welled up with tears and you gnashed your teeth thinking about that place, thinking about what they do to the children in there and remembering what they did to you when you were inside those walls.

You still had nightmares sometimes, waking in the middle of the night to find your sheets and your clothes soaked with sweat and rubbing your wrist like it was still attached. The bracelet they had put on you to prevent you from using your powers on anyone.

They weren’t obvious to anyone now but when you were a child, you would use your powers of manipulation to get what you wanted. Once, your younger sister was bothering you so you put your hand on her and told her to go out back and run around the tree until you told her to stop.

You parents came home to find her running in circles around the tree and so dizzy, she couldn’t see straight.

“Sissy told me to do it! And I tried to stop but I couldn’t!!” She had sobbed to your parents.

Eventually, you had become too much to handle. You set out to try and control anyone that you could get your hands on, literally, and your parents had enough of your antics.

Listening from the top of the stairs one night, you heard your parents talking, your father holding a piece of paper in his hand.

“Maybe we should call them. They could help her; it says so right here.” He said, pointing to the flyer.

They didn’t want to “help” you but they were very interested in you and promised to take VERY good care of you. They had never seen someone that could influence someone just by putting a finger on them so they wanted to study you, they ran tests, hooked you up to machines, and took your blood.

Even when they didn’t need you anymore, they didn’t let you go.

You had to escape and you did. The only time they took your bracelet off was when you were showering. Manipulating your handlers was easy and you couldn’t believe you didn’t do it sooner but the damage was already done.

That place was wretched; you were elated and relieved to have escaped but you felt terrible for the other children that were still there and you can’t imagine it’s any different now than it was then so you were torn.

On one hand you hated that place and everything to do with it but you also really liked Donald. What were you supposed to do? Damn him and his handsome face and sexy smile.

You dialed his number and he answered right away.

“Well hey there, y/n.” He said.

You could tell he was smiling.

“How did you know it was me?” You asked.

“Oh I didn’t know for sure, but I was hopin’ it was.” Said Donald.

You chuckled into the phone and felt yourself running strands of your hair in between your fingers while talking to him. He wanted to know if he could take you out after work tomorrow and you happily agreed.

In the corner of a dimly lit restaurant, you had a nice dinner and talked…a lot. You asked him what exactly he did for work.

“Well that group that came into the bar with me, the Reavers? Yeah, anyone that escapes the facility, they send us out to bring ‘em back. A bunch of years ago, a teenager escaped from right under their noses and since then, security has been really tight. I don’t really care for mutants all that much but I guess I wouldn’t wanna be stuck in that place either.” He said, taking a sip of his drink.

He was talking about you. Your muscles stiffened and your face went stoic. “I don’t really care for mutants all that much but I guess I wouldn’t wanna be stuck in that place either.” His words were cold but with just a hint of compassion. He was making this really difficult.

“Ah, so you aren’t heartless after all.” You said with a warm smile.

Donnie let out a little laugh. “Nah, I’m not heartless darlin’. Sometimes I have to use a little force bringin’ them back, I don’t like doin’ it but if I don’t bring ‘em back, I don’t get paid. It’s…well, it’s my job.” He said.

How would he react if you told him what you are? You had gently touched him at dinner, nestled next to each other in a corner booth but you hadn’t even thought about manipulating him once even though you had plenty of opportunities to do so.

Donnie asked you questions too, but you had to lie about certain parts of your life; you just weren’t ready to tell him yet. How could you after what he told you? After finding out who he works for and what he does for them, there was no way you could tell him just yet.

**********

Your relationship with Donnie escalated pretty quickly after that first date. It was hard to stay away from him. He would show up at the school where you worked, the kids all loved him and he was really nice to them.

He didn’t brush them off or ignore them, he would ALWAYS talk to them when he visited. They all loved his bionic arm and his skull and crossbones tattoo, they thought he was absolutely fascinating.

It made you fall for him even harder.

“Lemme see your eyes, Donnie.” You commanded. “You’re always wearing those sunglasses, I wanna see those dreamy blue eyes.”

“Well sweetheart, you’re the only one that I would take orders from.” He said with a smile, his gold tooth shining in the dim light of your apartment.

Gently cupping his cheek, you leaned over to kiss him, the bristles of his beard scratched your chin as he kissed you back and your heart fluttered when he pulled you into his lap.

Parting your lips with his tongue, he kissed you with passion, cradling your head with his hand and his mechanical hand touching your waist. The cold metal still surprised you every time especially when it touched the warm skin on your stomach.

“Ya know somethin’, darlin’? When I’m with you, I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be. I can’t explain it.” He said.

You knew you never ever used your powers on Donnie, you’ve never made him feel anything for you than he already did so what was this feeling that he was experiencing, that he couldn’t explain? Love? If you didn’t want to use your powers, you didn’t.

The control you had was perfect but you still wondered in the back of your mind if somehow you were influencing him in any way without knowing you were.

Moving to your bed, he explored your body with heated kisses from your lips down to your core. Taking his time, he makes sure you let out gasps of pleasure as his tongue circled your clit causing a hot fire to burn in the pit of your stomach before cries of his name fled from your mouth, soaking the sheet underneath you.

Settling himself in between your legs, he leaned down to kiss you, the taste of you on his tongue, he entered you slowly, stretching you out until he was buried to the hilt, your thighs clenching around him, waiting for him to move but not before you let out a strangled moan.

Buried deep in your pussy, he fucked you slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him before picking up the pace. Pulling almost all the way out before slamming into you again, your walls started to flutter around him. Growling in your ear and biting down on your neck, he praised you, telling you how good you feel and how tight you are.

“Don’t come for me yet, baby. You feel so good.” He said through clenched teeth.

Donnie’s metal arm felt cool against the soft skin on the inside of your wrist as goosebumps erupted across your body. He had both of your hands pinned above your head, his grip on your wrists tightened, your orgasm still building, you were so close.

Arching your back away from the bed, his head buried deep in the crook of your neck, you felt his warm breath fan across your throat and chest.

His name escaped your mouth over and over again, and your knees started to tremble from the overstimulation. He ceased his movements every time he felt your walls flutter around him, grinning like a devil because he liked delaying your gratification.

You whine softly in his ear.

“Donnie, I’m so close. Please!” You begged.

“Come for me, darlin’.” He purred in your ear.

Your release came hard and fast like a wave crashing on shore, making you slightly dizzy. Sinful noises escaped your lips as your body continued to spasm uncontrollably. His climax wasn’t far behind yours and he cursed out loud before collapsing on top of you.

Both of you breathing heavily, Donnie moved a stray hair away from your face, fiercely pressed his lips to yours and gave you a sly smile.

It was probably the best sex you’d ever had…and he knew it. The last thing you remember is falling asleep with your hand on his chest and a smile on your face.

**********

You felt rough callused fingers on one shoulder and cold metal on the other, a distant voice saying, “Wake up, darlin’. You’re havin’ a nightmare. Come on baby, wake up.” Your eyes flew open, panic washed over you, the sheets getting tangled up in your limbs as you thrashed around. Donnie was trying to calm you; he didn’t want you to hurt yourself.

“Look at me, y/n! You’re safe, it’s ok.” He said with concern.

Panting, you replied, “Donnie? You’re here.” And pulled him into an embrace.

Smiling against your shoulder, he said, “Well of course I’m here, sweetheart. Where else would I be? Can you tell me what you were dreamin’ about?”

Holding onto him tightly, you realized that you shouldn’t keep it from him anymore.

“I have to tell you something, baby.” You said in a serious tone.

You started to explain yourself, how you were the one that escaped Transigen all those years ago, about the powers you had and how you used them to manipulate your way out of the facility.

Donnie looked at you in shock, almost like he didn’t believe what you were telling him.

“No…you can’t be her. Are you messin’ with me, baby?” He asked.

“You don’t believe me, do you.” You said, sternly.

He shook his head furiously.

“Pick up your knife, Donnie.” You commanded.

When he picked up the knife, you extended your hand and cupped his cheek. Silently, you told him to hold the knife to your throat and he did.

Donnie started to panic, watching himself hold a knife to your throat scared him. It was written all over his face.

“What’s happening, y/n?!! Why am I doing this? Stop it, stop it now!!” He shouted.

You touched his cheek again, this time telling him to drop the knife. Tears streaked down your cheeks and he recoiled from you, getting up off of the bed and continuing to shake his head in disbelief like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was feeling.

“I-it was like I-I wanted to stop but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t put my hand down. Have you been usin’ that on me the entire time?!!!” Shouted Donnie, angrily.

Visibly upset, you replied, “NO!! I have NEVER used it on you until just now, I swear! The day I met you, I didn’t touch you at all. I can’t influence people unless I touch them.”

“But after that. You didn’t make me, ya know, feel things for you? I don’t normally develop feelings like this.” He said.

“Feelings like what, Donnie?” You asked.

“Feelings like, well, like I think I might be in love with you!” He said, his voice trembling slightly.

“Might be?” You asked.

He stepped closer to the bed again. “I’ve never been in love before, I don’t know what it feels like.”

“I’ve never manipulated you, baby. Not once. I’ve never done it to someone I actually care about, well not anymore. Before I went away, I would mess with my parents and my sister ALL the time.” You said, letting out a little laugh.

He cracked a smile but his face went serious again and he told you he needed to clear his head. You begged him not to leave but he did anyway. You couldn’t blame him, actually. That’s a lot of information to take in especially knowing what he does for a living.

He hunts people like you, children like you and brings them to a facility where they’re experimented on. Was he supposed to just forget that you’re a mutant?

You were scared that you’d never see him again…he didn’t know but you loved him too.

**********

It was quiet the whole next day. No texts came in, no phone calls…nothing. Until later on that night, after your shower you heard a few knocks on your front door.

“Who—who’s there?” You asked with a hitch in your voice.

His slight southern drawl echoed from behind the door.

“It’s just me, darlin’.” He said.

“JUST you?” You asked.

“Of course, just me.” He said, curtly.

You unlocked the door, took the chain off and opened it. He stormed through with a look of anger all over his face.

“Why would you ask that?!” Asked Donnie.

Nervously, you replied, “I-I don’t know. It’s just—you work for them, Donnie. Your job is to bring people like me to them.”

“Sweetheart, I would NEVER bring you to them, EVER!” He said.

A deep exhale of relief escaped your lungs.

Donnie inched closer to you, the cold metal from his bionic arm touched your cheek and you didn’t flinch. It was the first time your reflexes didn’t get the best of you and didn’t retreat away from him.

“I’ve seen the others like you.” He said softly, gazing into your eyes.

You thought he just meant other mutants.

“Well yeah, Donnie. There are mutants all over that place.” You replied.

He shook his head, still holding your gaze.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I meant the others with your…ability. They all have…” He paused.

Brushing his beard with your thumbs, you asked him, “They all have what, baby?”

“They all have…your eyes.” He whispered.

Your legs immediately started to shake and a rush of warmth moved across your chest. With sweat on your brow, Donnie immediately snaked his arms around your waist and led you over to the couch where you tried to process what he just said to you.

“What?” You asked.

“I asked around today. They’re not as powerful as you are but they were created from…your DNA. They got what they wanted from you so that’s why they never bothered to try and bring you back after you escaped.” He told you.

A wave of nausea hit you like a ton of bricks and your insides felt like they were twisted in knots.

“I never told anyone what happened to me in there because I just wanted to forget that place but we can’t leave them in there, Donnie. I have to go to the authorities or go in there myself—“ You said before he cut you off.

“Whoa, no—no, I am not lettin’ you near that place, darlin’. Absolutely not.” He said. “I will go with ya to the authorities and then we are leavin’.”

“Leaving? Where are we going?” You asked.

“Wherever ya wanna go.” He said with a wink.

He cupped your cheeks with both his human hand and his bionic hand and leaned in to kiss you.

“Donnie…are you—?” You paused, biting down on your lower lip and looking at your hands resting in your lap. “Are you really in love with me?” You asked.

“Oh I am, baby. I love you very much, y/n. So these powers of yours…what else can you make me do?” He asked with raised eyebrows.

You rested a hand on his wrist, he captured your lips again, parting them to allow his tongue to tangle with yours. His kisses were hungry and possessive.

Breaking away from the kiss, you said, “But I’m sure you wanted to do that anyway, right baby?”

“Oh I did, sweetheart. Ya know I did.” He replied.

**********

Outside Police Headquarters

“Deep breaths, darlin’. You ready to do this?” Ask Donnie.

You nodded.

“I am but…I’m a little scared, Donnie.” You said with a crack in your voice.

He took your hand in his and replied, “Well, whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand.”

Others that might enjoy: @ilovewhiteroses @pnwdagnabbit @gijos

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

#donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #donald pierce x female reader #donald pierce x mutant reader #donald pierce smut #boyd holbrook #logan 2017 #winter sleepover 2024 #ericca answers

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wysteria-clad · 1 year

Text

'Wiping off the kiss' prank with Donnie

paring: Donald Pierce x fem! reader; established relationship

warnings: none

genre: fluff

a/n: this man has me kicking my legs and twirling the phone cord

-------

You didn't even imagine he would be so serious about you, you thought you were something of a 'friends with benefits' minus the friends part. He was secretive, mysterious, whenever you bring up what he does for a living he'd say 'chief of security', anything beyond that was classified. That should send the red sirens in your head blaring but it didn't. It only intrigued you more.

He'd show up after days, without texting you or calling you. But when he did, he made sure you knew how much you meant to him—with his words and actions. Man was a charming, smooth talker. He bought you expensive things when you didn't ask for them.

You often teased and called him, 'Sugar daddy.'

He'd roll eyes playfully and tell you he is not that old. You'd giggle and kiss his lips, making him smile through it.

This was one of those moments. He came to visit you.

Did you possess his heart? Donnie had fucked many women for fun, to relieve frustration, for pleasure in the past. He even had relationships with a couple of ladies before he got deployed but none of them were serious, none of them came close to even grazing his heart. But you, you were his everything, his heart.

"Darlin'," his lips curved up to reveal his goldtooth. His mechanical hand pulled you closer by your waist, his flesh hand hungrily touching your face, sliding down to explore your breasts.

You didn't know what you were thinking. Donald Pierce is a possessive man would be an understatement. But you loved to push his buttons.

When his lips smashed against yours in a greedy passion, you slid your hand to 'wipe his kiss.' He froze, startled. His steel blue eyes were puzzled. You could see hints of something primal and carnal.

"What was that?"

"What?" you feigned innocence.

He grabbed you by your jaw, and he kissed you again in fervent passion.

Once again, you managed to slide your palm between your lips and 'wipe' it.

That's it.

"What the hell was that?"

"Wha-"

"Don't fuck with me."

Were you getting tired of him? Of this relationship? Fear crept in his bones, but he didn't show it.

You couldn't contain your laughter anymore. "Sorry, baby, it was just a prank," you place your hands on his cheek.

He let out an annoyed growl.

"I missed you" you breathed in his cologne, sighing softly.

"Don't ever pull that shit again."

He was terrified of losing you. You were the one good thing in his life. But of course, he would never show it.

"I missed your sweet ass too," he admitted almost softly, his flesh arm met the curve of your ass with a loud slap. There, the usual grin was back. He buried his face on the crook of your neck, your perfume was familiar and it calmed him down.

You did wipe off his kiss, but he gave you 'gifts' of his marks all over your body to remind who you belonged to before he left.

And you loved every single one of them. Every mark was a reminder of his touch, his promise, his passion, his love for you.

#wystie-verse #donald pierce x reader #donald pierce imagine #donald pierce #boyd holbrook

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Rodeo Rider | Donald Pierce x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: “I wish I knew how to quit you.” “Don’t quote Brokeback Mountain at me” for Donald Pierce x gn reader

summary: Donald takes a shine to someone that really doesn’t seem his type, but he likes them an awful lot.

tws: swearing, choking, rough kissing, possessive talk, smoking

word count: 1020

A worn dull grey cowboy hat sat on your head, paired with a blue denim shirt and blue denim jeans, a brown leather belt and a golden belt buckle, and as you looked over at Donald, you grinned; behind you, the beat up and dirty black pickup truck felt hot to the touch, in the direct line of the afternoon sun. Your boots looked a lot like that truck as you crossed your ankles and lit up a cigarette, leaning against the cool wall in the shade.

“Did you have to drag me along here?” You asked, raising a brow.

Donald shrugged, angling his hand in the sunlight so that when the light bounced off of it, it hit you directly in the eye, making you laugh as you looked away. “I like having you around, sue me.”

“I haven’t got the money for that,” you scoffed. “You ought to know, I mean, I still been able to pay you back for that lift you gave me the other month.”

He looked you up and down for a moment, daring to laugh as he tilted his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest, the softest of hums coming from the back of his throat; when you first met, you were little more than a mutant with a gift for talking to animals, working at rodeos as a rider and occasionally helping out with rattlesnake problems, moving them back to where they belonged, in their natural habitat. When you first met, Donald took a shine to you more than anyone else before; he liked that you made him laugh, and that you got along well. He liked you a lot, and even now that you were occasionally being dragged along when he needed someone slightly less violent than him during business meetings, he still liked you just as much.

Scratching the back of his neck, Donald cleared his throat as he stole another glance at you, that damn smug smile not leaving him for even a second. “I wish I knew how to quit you.”

“Don’t quote Brokeback Mountain at me,” you grumbled, shaking your head.

But you soon shut up when he walked over, and by the time that you dropped your cigarette, he had his hands on the collar of your denim shirt as he pushed you back against the wall firmly, using his left hand to knock the hat from your head before he planted both hands on your neck. Keeping you still as he kissed you roughly, harshly, making you cling onto his jacket as you prayed that he would stay so close. You really wanted him to stay close as he kissed you so harshly, taking the breath from your lungs as he pinned you against the wall. You had never been kissed like that before, with such brutality that you worried your lips were going to bruise, but you didn’t want it to end; not even when your body started begging for air, you didn’t want it to end. But then Donald pulled back, smiling and humming softly as he gripped your chin with his metal forefinger and thumb, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as he tilted his head and swiped his tongue along his bottom lip; you tasted better than anything he had had before. You tasted like a strong whisky on a winter’s evening, making him want to savour it, to remember the taste on the tip of his tongue for the rest of his years.

“Kiss me again,” you breathed out, eyes a little wider than usual as you swallowed thickly and tugged at his jacket, begging him to get closer. “Please. Donald… kiss me again.”

He looked at your lips for a moment, able to feel how your harsh breath hit his skin so heavily, panting, and slowly, he moved his hand around to the base of your throat, nearly laughing when you whimpered so softly; almost like reciting a prayer for him. Just for him. “You want me to choke you while I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and when Donald squeezed your throat as he kissed you harshly once more, you couldn’t stop yourself from damn near melting against the scalding metal against your skin. Just a rodeo rider, that’s all you were, just a rodeo rider and yet Donald had taken such a bright shine to you that he couldn’t keep his damn hands off of you anymore. Just a rodeo rider.

“Mine,” Donald growled upon pulling away, nipping at your bottom lip as he chuckled lowly, the sound of it harsh and thunderous against your lips. “All mine, and don’t you dare forget it, cowboy. Or else.”

You smiled, daring to let go of his jacket so that you could put your hands on his shoulders. “Or else what?”

“Or else I’m gonna have to remind you,” he leaned in real close, his lips against your ear, his voice dropping so quiet and so low that it would have been hard to hear him anywhere else. “I’m gonna have to make everyone see exactly who you belong to - all your little rodeo friends, all my men. Every-goddamn-last one of ‘em… can’t have you runnin’ off with someone else, can I?”

“Don’t you think this is a little fast?” You asked teasingly, licking your lips as you did your best not to laugh ever so softly.

“Fast or slow,” he growled. “I just like the direction we’re going - don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” you breathed out, nodding as you went to grab the lapels of his jacket again. “Now, are you gonna kiss me again, or are you gonna make me wait for it?”

“I think I might make you wait,” Donald mused. “I’ve never heard a rodeo rider beg before - I wanna know how it sounds.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” you told him gently. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I will,” he chuckled. “C’mon, we better get to this meeting - I made sure there ain’t enough chairs, just so you can sit on my lap.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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lustaffairs · 3 months

Text

Masterlist (across my blog multiverse)

dark!Steve x boss!reader

Cal (Bikeriders) x reader - DEAD DOVE

steady as she goes - Clement Mansell

Amos Jenkins x sex worker

Amos Jenkins x married reader

Donald Pierce x captive reader

Kaden, flight delay

Mo Lundy

Tynan (Beckett) blurb

Series / Parts of Series

The Raid: dark!Steve x reader x dark!Javi

Beach Walks: surf instructor!Billy

Raider Joel: Carter

Boydo Character Requests (closed rn) ✏️

Current characters

Billy (Skeleton Twins)

Clement (Justified: City Primeval)

Donald Pierce (Logan)

John McBride (the Cursed)

Kaden (2/1)

Mo Lundy (The Free World)

Steve Murphy (Narcos)

Ty Shaw (Vengeance)

Will write:

100-1k smutty ficlets. I wanna dip my feet here.

You can prompt w/ pic, gif, or basic scenario.

x f!reader, canon pairings, can try x gn

Will not currently do:

Plot (lmao sorry)

Domestic fluff

Anal

Non-sexual bodily functions

Kinks with rules to follow, like bdsm.

Videos

narcos - steve/connie nsfw vid

#boyd holbrook #clement mansell #steve murphy #amos jenkins #donald pierce #ty shaw #boyd holbrook characters #billy boyd #john mcbride #boyd holbrook fic #boyd bungalow ☠️#cap hatfield x reader #boyd holbrook x reader #donald pierce x reader #steve murphy x reader #clement mansell x reader #amos jenkins x reader #ty shaw x reader

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nnight-dances · 2 years

Text

HOW TO FALL BACK IN LOVE WITH YEONJUN

pairings: yeonjun x f!reader

tropes: one-sided enemies to lovers >:-)

plotline: yeonjun loves you. you've loved him before but now you're convinced he deserves nothing but your ironic smiles. well, you're wrong. these three acts of your life uncover the truth behind your resentment and the depth of yeonjun's love. plus, an epilogue where we collectively hate on short stories because only poetry can truly capture a writer's horniness!

what to expect: a lot of rambling in parentheses but i promise it's essential to the storyline, (i have many thoughts about how i've used this feature in this story which i can share if anyone's interested.) mbti talk, some tiktok slang.

song recommendations: sweet by cigarettes after sex, moonlight by dhruv, lay all your love on me by abba

—

THE FIRST ACT: 2 THINGS YOU (MIGHT) HATE ABOUT YEONJUN

it’s not a secret that yeonjun does everything with his everything. he’s only invested in his select few interests but just the little things take up all the space in his heart. you could argue for or against his way of living, he’s more than aware it’s not the healthiest to be like this but he’s not ready to change, not while he’s still young. for now, he’s a summation of fixations and obsessions in his world. and it just so happens that one of his obsessions is you.

“what’s this? y/n’s got a new piercing?” he leans back on his heels dramatically, mouth forming an o at the sight of the newly-added butterfly stud on the helix of your ear. “and it’s only tuesday. week not going very well for you.”

you narrow your eyes at him in your typical resting-bitch-face fashion, instantly taking on an aloof demeanor, “i’m extremely uncomfortable with the fact that you’re keeping up with the number of piercings i have. can’t say i’m flattered.”

“ha! at this point, i don’t even have to try to keep count. you get a new one every other day.”

“oh, leave her alone, jun,” calls out taehyun from behind you, “she’s doing it for inspiration for her portfolio that’s due in three days.”

two ring-adorned middle fingers stick up in front of taehyun’s face, your hoarse voice following suit, “you’re a terrible friend, kang taehyun.”

“two days? and you’re not done? sorry, love, but as an ESTP, i physically cannot forgive you. i have to shame you in public.”

yeonjun laughs a little too hard for your liking at that, about to chime in with his own patronizing comment but you cut in, “oh, well, you know who else is an ESTP? donald j. trump!”

yeonjun laughs again at that, enjoying the banter between you and taehyun a lot. he joins in, “i’m an ENFP. that’s the same as katniss everdeen’s, so i’d say that explains why i’m so hot.”

you frown, “you mean you would choose peeta over gale? yeah, i can see why you have such bad taste in everything.”

taehyun howls in laughter at that and yeonjun shakes his head, “oh, ho ho ho,” he shuffles closer to you, “you don’t understand, y/n, how badly you’ve just insulted yourself.”

before you can fully comprehend the meaning of his statement, he’s gone, grabbing (stealing) a can of beer from hueningkai who’s busy forcing beomgyu to arm-wrestle him.

“whatever that means,” you huff out, massaging your temples. taehyun sighs, concealing a knowing smile, “yeah. i’ve no idea what he means.”

you rest your head against the sofa he’s sat on, stretching out your legs, “i actually hate you for betraying me like that.”

“oh god, maybe i’ll stop the day you stop talking like we’re still in the second grade and i’ve lent my eraser to the wrong person.”

“you might as well have!” you complain, not in the least petty because, “choi yeonjun did not need to know i’m behind on my portfolio. god knows what he’s gonna do with that information.”

taehyun snorts, “ah, yes, he’s probably going to plan a full-fledged assassination involving your family and kids simply based on the knowledge that you’re a helpless procrastinator.”

“you know what?” you sit up with a groan, “i think you’re the one i should be worried about sharing my secrets with. you’re the real threat here.”

your ‘friend’ simply chuckles under his breath as he watches you depart his side and hopes yeonjun’s somewhere in the crowd of the party to keep your nerves… unnerved.

yeonjun is present in the crowd, sat on the less than reassuring metal stairs of beomgyu and hueningkai’s shared apartment. his hand fidget with his phone, struggling to stop himself from going on tinder only to be disappointed because he’s just looking for another y/n and that near impossible, unless you break your oath to rely on “real life encounters and experiences” (your very own words) to find love.

he finds you then, in a group of people hanging around the balcony, cigarettes in hand. you stand a little far apart from the others, looking undoubtedly spaced-out as you swing on your heels back and forth. you’re pretty, even though yeonjun can only see one-fourth of your face, what with all the darkness and your hair in the way.

but you hate him. even if your disgusted grimaces and cold glares are all but a joke, you did seem harbor some kind of resentment toward yeonjun. he’d no idea what it was and trust him when he says he’s been putting his neck on the line just to figure out why.

so far the reasons that have him most convinced include,

one: you hate all men in general and he just happens to be a particularly irksome male presence in your life.

this is a pretty likely explanation, he thinks as he approaches you, because even as an outsider to the group you’re in, he can see that you reserve your expletives for certain men.

“…and that’s why i think everything is soup,” yuta finishes saying when yeonjun joins you. for a second there’s silence and even mark who usually can’t control his laughter maintains a poker face. then, you groan, “yuta, if i had a pencil right now, i genuinely would have stabbed you with it.”

now, this makes everyone crack up while you regard them in disbelief with a look that screams you guys know i’m serious right? because you’re dead serious.

so yeah, it’s a good bet to say that men aren’t your favorite kind of people. but still, yeonjun couldn’t shake off the feeling that your dislike for him is more personal. wishful thinking, perhaps? but then, you turn and notice yeonjun standing beside you.

your half-smile tightens into a frown, “when did you get here?”

there it was. that specific tone you use with, that was missing when you’d threatened lucas just moments ago. the grit in your teeth, the intensity of your eye-contact, even the way you say you changes. which brings him to the next and last potential reason that yeonjun has spent days, if not years, pondering.

two: yeonjun had done you wrong without knowing and ever since then, you’ve grown to absolutely despise him.

now, yeonjun knew for a fact that you’re expert at holding grudges, clear from how quick you’ve always been to bring up embarrassing things people around you, specifically taehyun, had done. and to be honest, you’re just good at remembering unusual amount of detail which you use to your advantage.

which is why yeonjun knows you’ll know he’s lying when he says, “i’ve been here for a good ten minutes, y/n. i’m so hurt you haven’t noticed.”

“stop that,” you shoot back instantly, raising a singular but intimidating index finger, “i know what you’re doing.”

yeonjun raises his eyebrow in amusement, “stop what? what am i doing?” he slightly leans in to dramatically tuck in a few stray strands of hair, “please, enlighten me.”

the low, husky voice he uses is not lost on you. despite your flaming cheeks, you scoff, “that! you’re flirting with me!” you reach up and promptly untuck the hair from behind your hair, “these are my slut strands. you’re not allowed to touch them without permission.”

“your—” yeonjun pauses, “slut... strands? right.” he swallows a chuckle, smirking instead, all while internally he’s having a breakdown over how insane you are. like in a good way. in the way that everything you say is fucking crazy but it’s so native to your logic that it drives him crazy and holy cheese, yeonjun is scaring himself right now.

he looks away momentarily to see the rest of the group’s conversation floating elsewhere. he turns back to you, “so you noticed?”

you cock up a brow, “that you’re flirting with me? no shit, yeonjun, you know i may not look street-smart but i have to live with taehyun and his witty ass so trust me, i’m not oblivious.”

“oh, i beg to differ,” he settles closer to you, leaning against the same pillar as you, shoulder flush against yours, “i didn’t think for a second that you were oblivious.”

“that’s why you ran away after telling me i was insulting myself by insulting your taste?”

yeonjun flushes, taken aback by your straightforwardness, coughing to cover up his lack of excuses at that. you breathe out a laugh at his flustered state, “hmm, so goes down the all-mighty choi yeonjun.”

“at least i wasn’t defeated by my inability to complete my creative writing portfolio due in three…” yeonjun looks down at his watch, “actually, now, two days.”

this time, you’re left without a comeback, “that’s a low blow, man.”

he laughs, “come on, isn’t this like your first time being this late?”

“once again, i remain creeped out at you knowing things like that but,” you relax noticeably next to him, “i guess i ran out of ideas this time. not sure what’s wrong.”

“and this had never happened before?”

“i thought you already knew this.” yeonjun rolls his eyes, a complete contradiction to the grin on his face. ”hm, maybe you’ve run out because you’re trying to do it the same way you’ve always done it?”

“i mean, of course i’m doing it the same way,” you mutter, “that’s like the point of having a regular writing practice. it needs to become natural.”

“yeah, but you need spice things up a little sometimes!”

“gross,” you scrunch up your nose, “you sound like you’re prescribing me a threesome right now.”

he shrugs playfully, “if that’s what rocks your boat.” you push him away at that and he laughs out, “okay, okay, but i’m serious. try something new.” you quieten down at that, probably thinking.

“what about…” you look up at him expectantly and he almost fumbles over his words, “um, what about walking around the city?”

—

THE SECOND ACT: LOVE BEGINS BEHIND CLOSED PARENTHESES

full disclosure here: yeonjun’s second reason is right. the first one isn’t completely wrong, but it’s more so the second one that finds you in the gropes of overthinking that night.

you know how at a certain point in the past, you really (really, really, really) like someone but then things don’t work because that person isn’t into you (but more because you’re too caught up in your own self-perception to do anything) so slowly that lots (and lots and lots) of like turns into a lump of resentment? yeah, that pretty much describes your relationship with yeonjun. more or less, you hate him for not liking you (”in the past!! i don’t care about him anymore!” you hastily add from behind kang taehyun who had been narrating this whole paragraph. taehyun poorly covers up an incredulous snort.)

“so now you’re going on a date with him?” taehyun asks a little too loudly, “how does that happen?”

“it doesn’t happen because nothing is happening because i’m not going on a date with him!” you half-scream, hitting the brunette on his head to try and shove some sense into it, “and please, stop being so loud or i’m going to cry.”

“y/n, we live alone. and i think you’re going to cry nevertheless, but okay. if it’s not a date, what is it?”

“it’s just a walk,” you say and when taehyun looks at you blankly, “a walk around the city, in his exact words.” more blankness. more silence. “i was going to go alone but yeonjun said he knows an obscure part of town that would help me become, you know, curious.”

“uh-huh, right, of course…” taehyun purses his lips, intrigued to see how far you’d go with your denial.

“stop looking at me like you’re so much better than me! and no—” you cut him off knowingly, “don’t say that you are better than me. you’re not. what you are is an asshole and i hate you.”

you fall into your sheets with a frustrated wail and taehyun laughs at your state for a few seconds before returning to his role as your therapist slash best friend.

“okay, y/n, i know you don’t like to think about, let alone admit it, but you’re into yeonjun. and since i can’t let what happened a year ago happen again, i’m telling you that i’m almost completely sure that he’s into you, too. so please, don’t be hostile tomorrow on your date— sorry, your ‘walk’ with him. use the opportunity or i’m sleeping over at kai’s.”

—

“i don’t know why i let you talk me into this,” you scoff as you fall into step next to yeonjun. “we’re literally at a stupid park.”

he gasps like the theatre kid he should be, “first of all, this is a huge park and you’ve no idea how much people-watching you can from here. and secondly, i bought you coffee so all you’re being right now is ungrateful.”

you stay silent, eyes scanning a group of middle-aged ladies that passes you. you hear a whiff of their conversation, something about one of them wanting to take a break by the water fountain.

“see? you’re already in the zone and i didn’t even have to shut up.”

you look back at him, awed look morphing into a scowl, “no, i think it’s just really easy for me to forget you’re here.” yeah, it’s safe to say you haven’t taken a word taehyun said to the heart.

but no matter what you say, half an hour later finds you perched on a bench, crouched over your notebook, fingers scratching quick bullet points into the paper. you look up every ten minutes or so, head moving up and then rotating slowly, and then back to writing.

it’s only when yeonjun brings you your second cup of coffee that you notice the stiffness in your shoulders. he smiles at you, brightly. brightly? no, it’s the sun that’s bright, not yeonjun. he’s… moronic.

“wanna take a break?” he asks. you stand up in answer, taking the cup he holds out for you, the words thank you leaving your lips a little too quickly. he doesn’t overreact like you expect him to, his attention on some kids a few ways away from where the two of you are.

“you wanna play frisbee?” you mean to mock, not offer, but yeonjun’s ear perk up and he’s pulling you after him before another word can be said.

“hey, kids!” he greets the children who look like they’re maybe in middle school, “could we join y’all for a bit?”

it’s a a girl in pigtails who answers excitedly, probably encouraged by yeonjun’s looks (hey, yeonjun is objectively good-looking. just because you’re stating facts about his appearance doesn’t mean you’re in love with him. because you’re not in love with him.)

“sorry, this one is a little zoned out most of the time, so just don’t aim at her face,” you hear yeonjun say as you finish convincing yourself of your lack of feelings for him. you resist the itch to flip him off and flash a polite smile to the blonde boy next to you.

he responds with an enthusiastic wave, “hello! i’m ren!” you raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to introduce himself but return with a, “hey ren, i’m y/n. nice to meet—”

you’re cut off by yeonjun’s yell as the yellow frisbee flies your way. your hands come up to shield your face but ultimately it’s yeonjun’s body crashing into yours that saves you. does it, really? you wonder as you groan from under him. the grass is damp and you’re in it and yeonjun’s on top of you. you’re not sure what makes you more annoyed.

“i fucking hate you,” you whisper as yeonjun props himself up. he’s still close enough though so he grins, looking objectively good-looking despite the twig that’s found its way into his hair. “smile, babe, i just saved your life.”

you don’t know how to respond to his outrageous use of the endearment so you’re grateful when ren exclaims, “he just called y/n noona baby!!!! ewww, they’re dating!!”

on second thought, you’re not grateful because apparently, this is enough to wreak havoc among the group of children. weren’t they already at least ten? isn’t that old enough to not be annoying? you don’t find out because next thing, yeonjun’s hand is wrapped around your wist as he helps you up.

you shoot him a glare and the loud boy next to yeonjun screams, “they’re holding hands!!!”

“gosh darn, kids, your parents never touch each other or what?”

“my mother said my father’s breath smells like beer and that’s why she won’t give him kissies like she gives me them!” the girl in pigtails answers, proud for some reason. despite everything, you crack a smile at that, leaning into yeonjun’s side who’s struggling to stifle his laughter.

“i think we’ve had enough of a break, no?” he says to you and you nod, “please, let’s go before i’m forced to write about the bad parenting in my portfolio.”

about five minutes pass in you trying to break free from the group who insist on another round. another round takes two minutes before ren takes a hit to his knee and you both take the chance to leave, with you almost sprinting back to the peace of your bench in the shade.

you fall against the tree next to the bench, yeonjun close behind. “that was…” you take a moment to catch your breath, “not bad?”

yeonjun claps his hands together, “that’s exactly what i’ve been trying to tell you! this park! those kids! me? not bad!”

and well, because you guess you can allow that the whole affair isn’t half bad, it’s already evening when you’re too tired to write anymore. you look away from your almost illegible handwriting to find yeonjun gazing at you. weirdly (longingly).

he clears his throat, “you think you have enough?”

feeling weird (love-struck), you also clear your throat, “um, i should. i hope so, my fingers feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“that’s a good sign you’ve worked hard,” he pats your head. you don’t flinch away somehow. he continues, “it’s also a good sign that we should get some food.” when you narrow your eyes at him, he rushes to add, “you know, to relax your fingers.”

the excuse is ridiculous. the premise of this entire day is ridiculous. hell, yeonjun’s entire being is ridiculous. but you’re spent, your walls aren’t as rigid in the soft light of the sunset, and yeonjun’s eyes have an unreal glow when he’s silent.

and so, ridiculously enough, you answer yeonjun, “we should get sushi.”

—

that night, you return to your place to a tipsy party (?) of taehyun, soobin, and beomgyu with hueningkai glued to his phone-screen in concentration, filming everything. “you’re back!” kai announces when he opens the door, phone still recording, and you flip the camera off, not without a careless smile.

taehyun stands up at the sight of you, “i take it you had a fruitful date?” soobin laughs, so very loudly. “lmao,” (yes, soobin has the ability to say text slang out loud irl, next question please), “get it? fruit-ful? date? dates are fruits? am i drunk already?”

you shake your head at them and simply hug taehyun, feeling unbelievably affectionate today. “oh? what’s this? y/n initiating physical contact? choi yeonjun must be a god.”

you pull away, “this has nothing to do with him,” you say, sounding unconvincing even to your own ears, “i’m just tired. good night. if you make too much noise, i will take kai hostage and—”

“oh, do that anyway!! please, i’ll pay you!!!!” beomgyu shouts enthusiastically and you leave the living room before you have to witness any more of their drunken behavior.

but even in bed, you find yourself unable to sleep, mind occupied with… thoughts (is hanging out with so many men making you slightly dull? maybe. is it making emotionally constipated? absolutely. you make a mental note to schedule a lunch date with yeji later).

to be more specific, the image of yeonjun sat across from you holding out a piece of spicy tuna roll in your direction is too stubborn to leave your head. you think about yeonjun, among other things, that night.

yeonjun is no different, his mind still reeling from the realization that he’s spent an entire day with you. a day. a date? maybe, but whatever it was, you definitely couldn’t hate him too much if you could stand to spend that much time with him. you even shared a meal with him, laughed when he pretended his chopsticks were an airplane transporting food to your mouth. you humored him. you laughed with him. was that real?

—

if you think there’s nothing worse than waking up, walking out of your room— and right into yeonjun, then you’re wrong. because the disorientation you feel comes nowhere close to compare to yeonjun’s condition when he runs into you on his way to the common bathroom. he’s not sure what he else expected but it doesn’t surprise him to see that you sleep in a ginormous graphic tee (with mona lisa’s face on it?) and shorts.

“what are you doing here?”

the sense of deja vu overwhelms yeonjun for a moment before he smiles a little because your tone is not hostile, only confused. could he take this as progress? (or are you just half-asleep?)

“i’m… i’m here for brunch?” he’s a bit out of it by the time you raise your arms to stretch, heaving a half-groan, half-sigh. and listen, yeonjun’s not a pervert but he is considerably in love with you so seeing you with your slightly droopy eyes and slumped shoulders in your perfectly in-character pajamas sets off his imagination. to all kinds of destinations. (you as a domestic cat? you as a tired soul resting in his bed after a long night? god, he’s not doing this right now.)

“i don’t? i don’t remember agreeing to brunch?” you mumble confusedly, almost petulantly.

“you know,” announces soobin, suddenly revealing himself from the shadows (he’s literally been standing beside the two of you for two minutes, waiting for you to notice him. all he gets is the heat of the sexual tension between you and yeonjun. he could cook eggs on that shit.) “yeonjun was our friend before he knew you, y/n. actually, taehyun was our friend before he was your soulmate, so a brunch is a pretty normal occasion for us.”

yeonjun nods and you simply nod your head, probably too sleepy to make any witty comments at that. he shrugs, “but you’re more than welcome to join us if you want. for brunch? i’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything since our— since last night.” why’s yeonjun flustered? he’s only invited to brunch with four other people.

“i’m—” you’re cut off by yeonjun making his way to the bathroom. when he shuts the door behind him with a less than dramatic thud, you look at soobin in confusion. “so many things are happening too early in the morning.”

but brunch becomes a thing. and you join brunch, helping yourself to taehyun’s nearly perfect breakfast spread, your plate filled with bacon, eggs, and waffles.

“i say it’s nearly perfect because all we have in this house is fucking peanut butter!” you cry out, making taehyun give you a glare because he’s heard this many times before, “i don’t know how many times i’ll have to tell you this, but jam! jam is meant to be eaten with bread, it’s the only right way, it’s the way god intended things. do i look like a gym bro to you?”

“lol no,” says soobin, high-fiving you (you’re not sure if he does that because he agrees with your point about the jam, or if he’s also not a gym bro?) “y/n has a point. there’s so much more options with jam, think of all the berries you could be eating! peanut butter is the same old, same old.”

“god, i hate it when these two are in the same room.” you don’t have time to respond to beomgyu’s exasperated comment because yeonjun shifts closer to you on the sofa, coffee kettle in hand.

“want some? i’ll pour it out for you,” he offers, eyebrows raised. you pause for a second, mouth almost hanging open at how motherly he seems, but nod in a daze and watch as he stands up, takes out a black mug (that coincidentally happens to be your self-proclaimed mug) and pours coffee into it. you’re unaware of the little smile on your face when he brings it back to you, placing the hot mug next to your plate.

you’re about to think out loud about his motherliness when beomgyu follows up on his previous comment, even more boisterous, “oh, but these two in the same room are even worse.”

you look up at that to see the other three staring at you. you make a disgusted face, “why are y’all staring at me? please stop, i feel unsafe.”

“in that case, yeonjun must be feeling really fucking unsafe from how closely you’ve been staring at him,” laughs soobin, words slightly muffled from the food in his mouth. he’s lucky he’s your favorite friend (honestly, it’s just because he looks adorable with his cheeks full but eh, his personality wasn’t that bad you suppose).

“i’ve? not? been staring?” you ignore beomgyu’s snickering, picking up the coffee, “you guys need to get lives so that you stop searching so desperately for crumbs of drama here. i’m not here to serve as a source of entertainment for yo—” you promptly, contradict your statement by spilling the top half of your drink right into your lap.

while you sit there with scalding on your bare legs, it’s only yeonjun who seems concerned (overtly so, you’d observe if you’d care to admit it) with the others laughing their hearts out, satisfied at the comedic timing of your accident.

yeonjun, meanwhile, rushes to you with a handful of tissues, lips in a pout, “what the fuck, are you stupid? how do you spill that? have you never had coffee before?” you sit there trying to get the tissues from his hand, but he swats your attempts away, swiping the coffee from your thighs.

he’s much more careful that you would’ve been, making sure none of it soaks through your grey night shorts and a hand on your knee, probably to steady himself (spoiler: his hand on your knee doesn’t steady either of you, especially not him). but he manages himself well, his worrying outweighing all else as he looks up at you, “are you okay?”

you realize you haven’t said a word, eyes raising to taehyun’s who’s now looking away but watching slyly from his peripheral vision. beomgyu and soobin are in similar positions, pretending to be decent people when really, they’re over the moon.

“yeah, i’m okay, i didn’t really feel any of that,” you mumble, patting at your thighs, “but, um, sorry i wasted so much of your coffee.” yeonjun takes one of your hands, “no, don’t worry about it, i can always make more. you can’t make more of these legs.”

“okay! that’ll do it! i can’t take it any more!” beomgyu stands up with a melodramatic groan, “you two are gross, dude! like, not even in an elementary school way, you’re just objectively gross. i hate this.”

“what was that you said about not being our source of entertainment?” jokes soobin, elbow poking yours, pointing at you and then yeonjun who’s still crouching in front of you, one hand on you, “i very much feel like i’m in a k-drama right now, so i’ve no clue what you mean.”

you can sense from the tilt of taehyun’s grin that he’s about to follow suit with an equally, if not more, obnoxious comment, so you stand up, declaring, “i’m going to my room. i have a portfolio to finish in two days!”

you retire to your room after that, deciding concentrating on your work will do you some good now that you’ve… socialized? could you even call it that? you leave it at that, plopping down on your study desk where you would’ve usually conceptualized your rough drafts like you’d done yesterday in your notebook. it doesn’t compare to the park yeonjun took you to, but there is a window to your right from where you can see the slow street in front of your apartment. people-watching through that window has given you some pretty cool ideas for your pieces. you suppose it was like a pocket-sized version of your experience at the park.

you work the afternoon away, surprised to see it getting dark outside when there’s a knock at your door. you twist in your chair and call out, “come in!”

a light-brown head of hair pokes through and squinting in the darkness of your room, you can tell that’s not taehyun. “yeonjun?”

“woah, haven’t you got electricity in here?” he asks, stepping in and you see he’s put on a cream-colored cardigan on the blue shirt from brunch.

“nah, taehyun uses the money i give him for the electricity bill and gambles it all away,” you joke, sighing with feigned sorrow.

“ah, right, i forget taehyun has a gambling addiction. i’m sorry, miss, can’t imagine what it’s like to be married to someone like that.”

you laugh at that, yeonjun joining in. he leans in against the wall across from you, finding the switch to the lights in your room and turns them on. you’re both quiet for a moment.

you, because you’re reveling in the new-ness of your relationship with yeonjun. you feel like you’ve moved on in some way, no longer feeling caught up in the bitterness that had been coloring your interactions with him so far. he’s close to you, this yeonjun right now, who really, truly looks at you. you don’t even remember the yeonjun who broke your heart. (was it him who broke your heart? you begin to wonder, or just your imagination?)

for yeonjun, he doesn’t think he could’ve said anything even if he wanted to. you look so otherworldly in the dim glow of the evening, your eyes meeting his eyes, unapologetically and most importantly, without resentment. you’re beautiful, here silently in front of him, and he thinks he might have a chance with you after all.

“um,” he’s the one to break the silence, “have you eaten since brunch?”

you shake your head, “have you?”

“nope, beomgyu roped me into watching netflix with him when i tried to study,” he admits with a shy giggle, “next thing i knew the sun was setting.”

—

THE THIRD ACT: WINE FLIES WHEN YOU'RE HAVING FUN

conversations with yeonjun always lead the most unexpected places, and this one ends up with you driving with him to the supermarket. one day, you’re taking walks and playing frisbee with yeonjun, the next you’re grocery shopping with him because he’s had a whim to cook dinner for everyone. oh, how fast the night changes.. or however that one direction song goes.

“do you like spaghetti?” he asks, approaching the shelves stacked with different types of pasta.

“think before you ask me if i like pasta again, yeonjun,” you shoot back, inspecting the packets with your hands clasped behind your back. “wow, it’s been so long since i’ve been grocery shopping. taehyun never trusts me to get stuff and that’s how we end up with only peanut butter.”

yeonjun chuckles as he scans the shelves for the kind he likes and you shuffle around a lot, making little noises at all the cute shapes in the different packings. “they have heart-shaped pasta?!” you hold up the pink package excitedly at yeonjun who closes in on you with a fond smile.

“hmm, i think i get why taehyun never lets you come grocery shopping,” he starts, “it says here this a kids’ pasta.”

you regard him with your hands on your hips, unimpressed scowl on face, “you’re saying i have to be a kid to eat heart-shaped pasta? i don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

yeonjun is in a fit of laughter but he reaches out for your wrist as you pretend to walk away anyway with a hurried, “no, no, i think we should get the heart-shaped pasta.”

the rest of your trip is you roaming around being pulled off by the obscure brands and unusual types of foods while yeonjun grabs the ingredients you’ll actually need for dinner. about fifteen minutes later, when he’s done checking off everything on his list, he finds you typing away on your phone.

he catches a glimpse of the notes app on your phone and smiles as he comes to stand in front of you, “what’s up?”

“ohh, are you done?” you look away, “i got some ideas. i’ll use them for future pieces.”

“you’re done with your portfolio?” he asks. and you nod, eyes twinkling as the two of you head to the counter, “yep, i guess your plan with the park wasn’t completely a fail. it was not bad, really not bad.”

yeonjun laughs, piling the items for the worker to bill them. you gasp at the sight of a dark purple container, “you got blueberry jam?”

(fuck, his heart skips a beat. cheesy but valid. you look like you have hearts in your eyes.) “yeah, i saw it and thought you’d like it.”

you crack a delighted smile and even though both of you are paying for the groceries, you feel like you’ve been gifted the world. “i think i love you.” (you’re only joking. …right?)

—

“taehyun!!! beomgyu!!! soobin!!!!” you holler into the house, setting up five wine glasses around the table, “dinner’s ready!”

beomgyu is the first to come out, summoned by the smell of food, gaping at the fancy set-up of the two casseroles on the table, one bigger for the spaghetti and a small dedicated to your heart pasta. “woah, this looks insane,” he comments and calls out for the other two.

yeonjun emerges from the kitchen, the bottle of red wine you’d picked out with your hands. you hadn’t been the most helpful in the conquest of the pasta ingredients but you knew a thing or two about wine. this one was one the cheaper side so you didn’t have the greatest expectations for it, but it’ll have to do.

taehyun and soobin make it to the table five minutes later, shocked at seeing a table full of homemade meal. “is this, like, you and yeonjun announcing that you’re officially a couple?” soobin asks. (he’s not joking. the way the two of you stare down at the dinner you’ve put together proudly truly has him convinced that you’re finally over the pining.)

clearly this is not the case but the sight of both of you turning as red as the spaghetti for dinner is enough to elicit a few chortles from all of them. “honestly… shut up, soobin,” yeonjun scolds and you take a seat at the table wordlessly.

the dinner is an experience. it’s been a while since any of you have had good home-cooked food like this, the past few weeks having been cluttered with take-out meals and the extent of cooking you’ve done involves frozen food.

“this is so good,” you hold up a heart pasta, waving it in the air at everyone, and then at yeonjun, “i told you this would be good. it’s so good.”

“judging from the way you’re acting like a child, i’m guessing you’re done with your portfolio?”

you glare at taehyun but nod anyway, shooting him a thumbs up, “done and dusted, sir. i even managed to proof-read it before submitting it this time.”

yeonjun has been sitting beside you, eyes round with adoration at everything you say. you can’t blame him, you’d changed into a white dress with puff-sleeves before dinner which doesn’t only fit the mood but single-handedly creates it, and it’s a rare thing to see you in a dress so casually.

taehyun smiles, “i’m proud of you. even though you’re doing the bare minimum by completing your work on time.”

you roll your eyes at his twisted way of affection, the words on the tip of your tongue dying out when yeonjun leans into you suddenly, arm reaching out for the bottle of wine beside you. he shoots you a half-smile when he meets your gaze, pouring some out for you. as he returns to his position, he says under his breath, “try not to spill this on yourself, babe.”

you hold in the giddy breath that almost escapes your throat at his words, but you can’t stop the mellow feeling that blooms in your chest, eyes following him as he pours some wine for the others, too. was it the wine that was mellow or yeonjun’s voice? (hint: it was the moment of his love for you that was mellow.)

you make it through dinner, occasionally asserting the supremity of your heart-shaped pasta for kids here and there, but overall, overwhelmed by the man by your side. when everyone’s finished eating and lazing around the sofa, beers in hand (”wine is for sissies,” beomgyu aims at you because he knows you hate it when he says that, “let’s get beer guys.”), you take to the balcony with a glass full of wine to yourself.

the night air is pleasant after the warm atmosphere inside the house and you breathe through your mouth a few times, to calm your nerves. you can feel yeonjun’s eyes on you from the living room but choose to stay still, welcoming the feeling of spacing out in solitude.

“you alright?” his voice greets your ears not two moments later. (is he really close to you right now? or is the balcony just too small for two people?)

you hum affirmatively. then, you look at him, a light laugh leaving your chest. you’re leaning into his side now, you enjoy his warmth. “i’m good.”

“didn’t know wine could make you drunk,” he breathes, heart in his throat.

you shake your head at him, “i’m not drunk.” you hesitate and then, “at best, i’m tipsy.”

“i was talking about myself. i feel drunk. ‘s never happened before.”

you frown, throwing a careless glance over your shoulder, “beer and wine? yeah, that’ll make you drunk.”

“i didn’t have any beer,” he reveals. when you narrow your eyes, he continues, “i’m not lying. i don’t like to mix the two. i’ve read it gives you headaches.”

you stay silent, holding your breath for no special reason. (…)

“besides, once i start something, i like committing to it.” if his words themselves aren’t meaningful enough, the soft look on his face is full of unmistakable love.

“you’re not just talking about wine,” at first, it’s a statement you speak, your gaze fixed. then, memories of your past hurt rush in and you finish with an uncertain, “are you?”

“i’m not,” his voice is hushed and you feel there isn’t a moment lost between when he says his words and when you hear them. you’re so close to him, in all meanings of the word. “do you still hate me?”

you’re a little stunned by the jarring question. “i didn’t hate you. really, it was… something internal. like a dilemma. a phase, almost? i don’t think i could hate you if i wanted to.”

“you think?” you can feel his words inside of yourself now, even though you doubt either of you have moved any closer to each other.

yeonjun’s heart is on fire, destructive but determined. his hand brushes back your hair. “you’re so pretty when you wear your hair down.”

you hide your face in your shoulder, away from him, flustered that his words have such an effect on you. you’ve been complimented before. with much more zest, with more elaboration. but this is different. you feel like yeonjun is holding you.

he chuckles, “are you okay?”

you pull yourself away, swallowing, but not making eye-contact with him yet. “that’s the first time you’ve called me pretty.”

“that’s the first time you’ve heard me calling you pretty,” he corrects you. his fingers are in your hair again, this time to make you look at him. “you should listen to my thoughts sometime.”

you laugh and he’s moving closer, both his hands coming to your face. your hands move from where they’ve been clasping the balcony railing for dear life and find yeonjun’s waist, silently beckoning him nearer.

when your noses touch, yeonjun hums, “i’m crazy for you, y/n.”

you want to chuckle at his silly phrasing but instead, you’re saying it back, “fuck, i’m the crazy one, yeonjun. i’ve—” you stop your words, suddenly hesitant.

but yeonjun is firm, his lips hovering over yours and his question will you kiss me? unanswered because you’re already kissing him when he asks you.

(this kiss is. . . not bad.)

—

EPILOGUE: A SELF-AWARE SLANDER OF SHORT STORIES

“so…” your voice struggles to stay stable as you prop yourself on your elbows, yeonjun’s arms never letting loose of your sides. “when you say you’re crazy, is it that you’re crazy for me or crazy because of me?”

yeonjun stops in the middle of the tantrum he’s throwing with his buried in your neck. he blows out air through his mouth and you giggle, your hands pulling him up by the hair. “answer me!”

he sighs, “i don’t know, babe. both? neither? either.”

“come on, there’s a fundamental difference between the two,” you whine, “am i a symptom of your craziness or the cause of it?” he stays motionless, lips pressing against your cheek. you add, “just so you know, there’s no right answer. i’m honored to be either.”

“god, i can’t believe you’re using your boyfriend as material that’s going to be read by your entire class. a class of pretentious, sleep-deprived kids. they’ll hate me, y/n.”

you groan, kissing yeonjun’s ear lightly, “not true! you’re a very cute boyfriend.”

“so you are using me for your creative writing class?”

you pause and yeonjun flops onto the bad, pouting and feigning a cold shoulder. “the audacity of women these days!”

“hey!” you pull him back into you, “i’ll have you know that my love language is turning people into literature.”

yeonjun’s pout is already fading when taehyun’s voice breaks into your room (you should probably re-inforce the rule about knocking now that there’s a half-naked man in your room more often than not). “that’s true. she’s already written a story about me.”

your boyfriend’s interest is piqued at this, his eyes jumping between taehyun and you. “what? really?? and you haven’t written about me?”

“i’m trying to! you’re not making it easy.”

“did you ask him all these questions when you wrote a whole story about him?” taehyun cackles in glee at yeonjun’s returning pout.

you roll your eyes, “yeonjunie, it was a short story— the most unromantic form of literature. i’m basically saying i would rather write a bunch of boring description than even think about having sex with him.”

“hmm, it seemed like a pretty enthusiastic piece to me,” taehyun supplies unhelpfully. you glare at him. if you weren’t in just your bra, you would’ve gotten up to shut the door in his face.

“babe, i’m having serious doubts—”

you quickly shut down yeonjun’s whining, “i want to write a poem about you, my love. that’s why i’m asking you so much. it takes a little more to be properly romantic! i want to be truthful.”

he hesitates and you kiss his nose to seal the deal. taehyun groans in defeat, “gross. i just came here to get your asses to brunch. hyuka’s brought mint chocolate snacks from home so we need someone to handle him, so please hurry,” he starts to close the door as he leaves, but stops when the two of you make no move to wake up, “and you’d better not start fucking now! nobody needs to hear that this early in the morning, especially not poor hyuka.”

you laugh into yeonjun’s chest as he shouts back comforting words to taehyun. his lips attach to your shoulder. “i love you, y/n. you’re the explanation for my craziness.”

you shift to look back at him, smile widening, “hm, that’s interesting. can i quickly write that down-? okay, okay, sorry, i was kidding, love, come back here!!”

—

2K notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 18 days

Text

Cross-fandom: my fics by interest

Works from: The Last of Us, Scream, Narcos, The Skeleton Twins, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Bear, Road House (2024), Logan, The Free World, Little Accidents

Masterlists: Main (incl. Slashers) | Pedro | Boyd

NOTES: You can look for a theme or fic you like and see what else is grouped with it from other fandoms. Still adding. There will be repeats of a fic falls on more than 1 category. Chronological by fic date unless otherwise noted. Heed warnings. An anon mentioned liking my slashers despite not knowing the movies. So I made this bc of my break (also check out @toxicrecs). I rly appreciate your patience and kind words. x f!reader unless otherwise noted.

*the exact link is on the list more than once

Captivity, dubcon/noncon, dark fluff/caretaking

Raider Joel (Miller from The Last of Us)

* Stay awake (vampire Joel, very docile)

* The Raid (Javi and Steve from Narcos)

Captive POV (Donald Pierce from Logan) - the capture & brief touching so far, no fluff.

The Spread (Thomas Hewitt from TX Chainsaw)

Sneaking around & possessiveness

*Good Behavior (Corey Cunningham, Halloween)

Stepdad Joel

Comforting a beefy man after he's mistreated

Corey from the Yard

Mo Lundy (The Free World / Boyd Holbrook)

Power struggle, degradation, noncon both ways

*Every Inch (Ghostface) & pts 2, 3 (see fic)

Slasher Joel

Sex Work (or adjacent)

Virgin sex worker reader (Joel)

Jailbird (Joel x sex worker inmate/parolee)

Motel (Amos from Little Accidents)

Hybristophilia (attraction to criminals)

Obsessive reader (Michael)

File room boss - (Steve x boss f!reader)

*Good Behavior (Corey)

Dirty talk in the same style (night walks style)

Night Walks (Joel)

*Every Inch (NW coded Ghostface)

*Thighs out (Joel)

Unwanted or noncon somnophilia

Rock bottom pt. 3 (Corey)

What you're missing (Joel)

Ghostface POV drabble

Takes you forcefully bc you want him to

Michael (Myers) knows

Beef broth (Joel)

Same as above but you're asleep

Sleeping Beauty (Joel)

Late Night Company (Corey)

Killer/Slasher POV

Skin Alley (Michael)

* Every Inch 3 (Ghostface)

Midnight Snack (Slasher Joel)

Ghostface POV drabble

Vampires

* Stay Awake (Joel)

Michael's Castle

Sexual tension or pining between men

In order of mild to extreme (still f!reader)

* Beach Walks, Beach Walks Lore (Joel & Billy)

* The Raid (Javi & Steve) - pt. 2 (more to come)

Rock Bottom ch. 1 (Corey/Michael)

* Good Behavior (Corey)

Unwanted breeding drabbles

Secret breeder (Joel)

Breeder Michael

Shared by brothers

The Ghost (Berzatto Bros) - implied/adjacent

Brotherly Sharing Masterlist (Miller Bros)

He fucks you in front of someone who might die

Michael makes them watch

Raider - Failed Rescue (Joel)

Crossover between fandoms or movies and there's sexual tension with both of them and/or each other

Michael in Ambrose (Halloween / House of Wax)

Beach Walks - Prequel, Fic pt 1* (Night walks Joel / Billy from The Skeleton Twins)

Road House (2024) - Scream AU (kinda)

Gas Stations

Get out of the way (Michael Myers)

All dressed up (Night Walks Joel)

Leopard Print (Joel & special guest)

Man calls himself daddy

*Sky's Out Thighs Out (Joel)

Every Inch 2 & Every inch 3* (Ghostface)

--------

Feel free to suggest categories/fics

#dark fic #some darker than others #hybristophilia fic #stockholm syndrome fic

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writing-my-time · 13 days

Text

COMING SOON

Original GIFs by @boydholbrook-fan // minimally edited by me ~ will be working on quality next!

I have three pieces currently in the works, in no particular order and with no schedule in mind, they are as follows:

SMOKE BREAK (Part one posted)

Pairing: Steve Murphy X F!Reader Word Count: 1.75 Warnings: Angst, swearing, allusions to cheating, nicotine withdrawal. Summary: It’s been a week since Steve’s quit smoking cold turkey, and his withdrawals are making him worse by the day. Everything comes to a head when he offers to drop you home late at night

DADDY AIN’T HOME

Pairing: Clement Mansell X F!Reader Word Count: TBA Warnings: 18+, Smut with minor plot, age gap (Reader is in her early 20’s, Clement in his 30’s), morally dubious actions, still consensual! MORE TO BE ADDED Summary: When your dad’s so-called ‘friend’ needs to stay at your family home for a few days, using the excuse of “in-between” places, you find his incredibly forward nature hard to resist. Your temptation only worsens when your dad goes to work.

MEET ME AT THE HOTEL ROOM

Pairing: Donald Pierce X F!Reader Word Count: 1k+ Warnings: 18+, Smut with minor plot, dirty talk, Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampies, MORE TO BE ADDED Summary: A month after your most recent rendezvous in Laguna Vista, you find yourself back in the company of Donald Pierce. This time, you’re making sure you get the full pussy worship Don promised back in that bathroom.

#boyd holbrook #steve murphy #donald pierce #clement mansell #narcos #logan #justified city primeval

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

HI!!! Can I make a request for headcanons for a the Corinthian x reader but the reader is sort of like an exorcist/warlock like Johanna Constantine?? :)))

Yeah! Absolutely you can! Also I felt so stupid not knowing that this motherfucker was also the dude who placed Donald Pierce in Logan 🦦

Nightmares has long since became your only company thanks in due to your line of work as an demon exorcising Warlock, sending them back to the depths of hell of which they came from but not without losing some innocent bystanders who believed that they could be of aid to you in the process.

Sure the pay was rewarding but what wasn’t as rewarding was the amount of scars each exorcism left upon your mind, body and soul, causing your sleeping patterns to be out of wack and extremely concerning with the little amount of sleep you’d accumulate when sleep did decide to take pity on you. However upon your first encounter with the man, well…nightmare, who would later become your boyfriend was an unfortunate case of wrong place wrong time as you crossed paths just as he was getting off the high of his latest kill.

Wiping away the blood off of his blade, Corinthian felt as though he wasn’t alone, like he was being gawked at; wanting to see if that was the case, he peered over his shoulder and down the entrance to the alleyway he had taken his victim for more privacy before he took their life -and their eyes- there you stood, eyes darting from the blade in his hand to the dead body on the dirty floor then back up at him. Unfortunately for him, instead of screaming and running away like he expected you to, you merely looked unfazed, de-sensitised to the blood and death presented before you as though you’ve seen it all before in a thousand lifetimes of your lineage. Like you’ve witnessed much worse things to ever be done to a human.

“Ain’t it past your bedtime little one?” He taunts to gauge a reaction, seeing as your expression reminded him too much of a certain dream lords unbothered face a little too much for his linking the longer he looked. “Ain’t it past yours grandpa?” You replied snidely, having heard through certain crowds and news outlets of a ‘Corinthian.’ A murderer who specialises in the taking of his victims eyes and had always managed evaded capture through some mysterious means to kill another day. You didn’t need it spelling out to you that he wasn’t human, considering how dated some of his most notorious kills were compared to this day and age; Sure he had taken the form closest to that of a human being but beneath the pearly white smile and charismatic silver tongue of his, there was a sinister side to him that humanity wasn’t ready for.

Needless to say on that very night you had peaked Corinthian’s interest, which never ended well for anyone who had caught his interest temporarily, while you were determined to avoid future interactions with the nightmare; rightfully suspecting nothing good would come of it. Though it seemed that fate had intentionally placed most of their favour into Corinthian, who was already in the process of preordaining your future encounters ahead of time, confident that his influence had already rooted itself deeply into society into offering up everything he could ever want in exchange for a few choice words of his silver tongue.

So for several weeks and countless encounters later you and Corinthian were past the awkward acquaintance stage and headfirst into the ‘friends who are borderline dating but refuses to make it official because commitment issues’ stage. You playfully flirted through every way possible. Standing closer to the other, shoulders and hands brushing against one another teasingly, longing stares, shared smiles and hushed whispers that ended in bouts of hearty laughter filling the room, leaving others within proximity a little confused as to what your relation to one another was exactly.

Corinthian found himself taking a more protective approach towards you during this period of your friendship, viewing anything and everything as a possibly threat while also making certain that you were as far as one could be from his business with Dream/Morpheus because to the ruler of the Dreaming, you were his ticket to his rouge nightmare and Corinthian didn’t want that for a multitude of reasons; the main one however being the fact that he would be taken from you before he could formally ask you out on a long overdue date you both kept joking about. He also feared that once Morpheus tells you the truth of his origin you would see him how everyone else does and leave him…the only person who didn’t fear him and treated him as an equal.

It was hard on you both to place trust in one another, it was a hefty process to get through but you both managed to emerge from it, grasping onto each other’s hand as if it was your life line and gaining newfound respect for one another. The nightmares that once plagued your mind seemed to dissipate temporarily whenever Corinthian was near so when one night the nightmares gotten to their very worst, you instinctively ran to Corinthian and buried yourself into his chest, grasping onto him tightly with eyes clenched shut. “Woah, hey what’s wrong sugarplum? Is it the nightmares again?” He asked, keeping you against him as he could only hope his presence brings you a sense of comfort. “Not nightmares…memories from my failings as an exorcist.” Your heartbroken words moved the nightmare in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He hated the fact that you were plagued by the past and the added fact that he couldn’t kill it for you as your source of conflict didn’t have a physical form for him to stab to his hearts content.

“What you want me to do, kill em?” The sound of your broken laughter brought Corinthian peace as he felt you loosen your grip but his only tightened out of instinct that you’d fade from his grasp like sand. “Can I stay here, just for the night Cori?” You asked, somewhat embarrassed at your behaviour, “you make them go away, even if it is for a little while, a little while is all I need because I’m just so damn tiered.” You practically rasped the last part out, burying your tear stricken face back into Corinthian’s chest to muffle your sobs as he hushed you softly before picking you up into his arms and carrying you back to his room; vowing to chase away every nightmare, every bad memory from ever entering you pretty little head.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he tucked the both of you in tightly, taking off his shades but manoeuvring his head so you couldn’t see the empty sockets of where his eyes should be, haven’t yet found the strength within him to show you his most inhumane feature out of insecurity and worry that it would be the driving force in you fearing him as much as you did your inner demons. “Don’t worry darlin’,” he whispered when he noticed that you had fallen fast asleep against his chest on the way up to his room, clinging onto him like a cute koala. “I’ll protect you, those memories can’t touch you while I’m here.” These weren’t words he says on a whim to just anyone, these were a vow, a contract binding himself to you as your protector and if there’s one thing Corinthian is best at, it was committing to a part.

When the day came where Corinthian finally did show you what laid beyond his shades, steeling himself for the worst of reactions he’s ever received, only for you to hold his face in your hands as you stared at the teeth lined sockets with a softness of which he has never been privy to from anyone since his creation. “I’m honoured that you trust me enough to show me this Cori, it must’ve been really hard on your behalf making that decision; but know that this doesn’t change how I feel about you in the slightest, your still my cocky little shithead of a nightmare.” If Corinthian could cry in that moment, waterfalls of tears would’ve streamed his cheeks, pooling within the palm of your hands. For once in his life he didn’t regret placing this amount of trust in you, he felt relived and a little stupefied at your calm, reassuring response.

“You mean, you aren’t…scared of me? Of them?” He asked, gauging your every reaction right down to the movement in your muscles. “I don’t believe it is in my right to judge your appearance when all you’ve been done in return is accept me at my worst; sometimes encouraging it but Cori…all I see is you.” You responded, running your thumbs just under the sockets gingerly. Corinthian smiled widely as he leaned against your touch, moving his head to kiss your palm, holding it tightly with his own in a means of preventing you from pulling away from him, from everything you’ve experienced together.

“I love you, you know that sweetheart?” He confessed so casually, his body filled with a comforting warmth at your acceptance of all of him that the words just came out of him without a filler. “You do?” Your eyes brightened and your smile widened, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Of course you do, after all how could you not, I’m quite the catch.” You joked, not having experienced many people expressing their romantic interest in you before. “Quite the catch indeed.” Corinthian echoed before pulling you into a gentle kiss.

Your relationship after that was filled with PDA, gentle goodnight kisses despite sleeping in the same bed, rough kisses after particularly hard days or petty arguments where neither of you would verbalise your apologise but instead says so through action instead; tight yet comforting hugs when all seemed lost and the only thing you knew was the safe haven that was your lovers arms. It was a healing balm to your fractured souls, it was a dream came true to finally have someone who didn’t fear the demon within, the unfavourable side of one’s being. However long your relationship may last, you and Corinthian were in no rush in actively spending every ounce of it that you could with one another; as quite frankly it has seemed that fate has blessed this odd coupling of a nightmare and an exorcist to an enteral dream state of a life together.

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strawberrysunsets · 10 months

Text

The Empty World (Ch. 9)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant discovers what happened to Laura at Transigen's labs, and has a run-in with the Reaver Commander.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mention of cannon death, mention of cannon torture, mention of cannon suicide, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: six months later, another chapter! Hurrah!

Chapter 9: Revelation

Strips of motion-activated fluorescent lighting flickered on one after another as the man before you strode through the cold, stark basement, glancing back for you to follow.

It had been a few days since your admittedly ill-advised first aid soiree with Pierce, and your pager had notified you this morning that you were due to be fitted for gear for your upcoming assignment. While you’d been hiding in your rooms since, hoping to avoid what was sure to be an awkward encounter the next time you saw Pierce, mission outfitting had sounded non-optional. So here you were, hoping against hope that you wouldn't run into the Reaver Commander in Transigen's basement gear storage unit.

The Recon Manager arrived at a side door, and swiped his pass to open it. Inside, racks of Kevlar and carbon fibre swished on either side of you, and you brushed a hand along the garments as you passed.

Going into Pierce’s rooms had been fun, in a perverse sort of way. Like watching a crime documentary. It was a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of a sociopath. And, yes, he was a sociopath with soft hair and a smooth southern accent – but he was only attractive in the way that any lethal weapon was. Like a blade honed to an edge, or a corrosive substance just whispering at you to touch it, his presence beckoned towards the heady rush of danger.

A masochist’s dream, you sighed internally. But at least you knew your own weaknesses. And something you’d gleaned from Pierce the other night, whether or not mashing your face to his had been a mistake (which was pretty inarguable), was that there were different facets to him. There was an off-duty version of him, for example, who seemed a hell of a lot more open to chatting about things that verged on the personal than the business-hours Reaver Commander did.

And that was something that might be useful, seeing as you were still in the dark about almost everything that went on at Transigen. Like why were they so invested in - and 'responsible for' - the mutant kids. Or what the hell kind of information they were so desperate to get back from Zenith Labs. Or how the fuck they’d made evil-buzzcut-logan, X-24.

So yes, you were toying with the idea of fucking Donald Pierce. If it got you any information, it didn’t sound like the worst possible way to pass your time at Transigen. If that failed, you could always go play in the radiation lab.

“Don’t touch anything,” the Recon Manager snapped, glancing back at you as he pulled open a storage locker. You raised your hands from the garment rack in surrender, but continued to stare around the room, casually itemizing what you could see for future reference. It might be handy to know what kinds of gear were down here, in case you ever had to make a short-notice departure from Transigen. Not that you wanted to do that, seeing as the fate of Laura and the others depended on your contract with Ansley. But still, it felt nice to know a few of their secrets.

When the Manager had collected an assortment of garments and pieces of equipment, he handed them to you with a cold expression, crossing his arms as he waited for you to pull on a Kevlar vest to check its size. He wasn’t a Reaver, judging by his lack of military apparel and macho attitude, but he was clearly anti-mutant. A Purifier? A follower of the Church of Human Potential? Who knew. It barely mattered, since there were too many varieties of hatred out there to count. And Logan had always said that they were all the same, in the end.

“These aren’t yours,” the Recon Manager said gruffly, when you nodded in assent at the size of the vest. “They’re equipment on loan from the facility. What comes back damaged comes out of your pay. If you get paid, that is.”

With that, he strode towards the door, and stood waiting for you to exit the room before he shut it behind you.

Just another day at the office, you sighed internally. And I’m sure this isn’t even the most toxic workplace out there.

Then again, you were considering starting a workplace situationship with your sadistic mercenary supervisor, so there was still plenty of room for things to go downhill from here.

~~~

As you lay in bed that night, you stared at the screen of the phone in your hands, reading the message you’d received that morning over and over again.

We are safe. Across the border.

The unknown number from which it had come was undoubtedly Laura, using the burner phone you’d given her. And they were safe. You didn’t know what that meant – if they’d found a true hiding place, or even other mutants, or had just escaped the tails Transigen had on them – but your heart ached with relief. For now, they were safe. And they would continue to be, as long as your deal with Transigen remained.

You flipped away from the messages app, and scrolled through the phone’s home screen, trying to get used to its controls. It was the phone Laura had given you, previously belonging to someone named Gabriela. Who that was, and what her story was, you had no idea - but she assumedly had no use for it, anymore. Maybe she'd been Laura’s family, or maybe just some unlucky bystander who’d helped the mutant kids and gotten themselves in the Reaver’s crosshairs, but she was clearly gone, just like every other person who'd ever stood between Transigen and their goals.

Your finger brushed the camera app in the phone's corner and it opened involuntarily, causing the ‘recent videos’ icon to catch your eye. Because there was a video there. You sat up in interest and tapped on it, and shaky footage immediately grew to fill the phone's screen.

“My name is Gabriela Lopes,” a woman said, sitting back in a chair in a warmly lit room. “I am a nurse, and for ten years I have worked at Transigen research in Mexico City.” The footage flashed, changing to a video of the exterior of Transigen’s gates.

Your eyes widened, and you sat up further, gripping the phone tightly.

The next clip was of Gabriela in a storage closet somewhere inside the lab, breathing hard and obviously filming in secret.

“Transigen is owned by an American company,” she continued. “What I am about to show you is illegal in the US, and Canada.”

The camera panned around to the hallway, and you watched in growing horror as a line of children – a few of whom you recognized from North Dakota – filed past.

“They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study,” Gabriela continued breathlessly. “But that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and never left. They have never seen the sun, or the ocean. Rain, or snow, or any of god’s creatures. They have no birth certificates, no names besides the ones we have given them.”

Then Laura appeared on the screen in your hands, asleep in a narrow bed, and you made an inarticulate sound of horror as you covered your mouth.

You’d heard Laura imply that she and her friends had been at Transigen's lab together, but you’d thought that it was because they’d been kidnapped and brought there. That Transigen had wanted to study them, because they were the first mutants born in 25 years. Not that they were from the lab.

“They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls,” Gabriela's voice continued, careless of your mounting horror as the video panned over a few bloody hospital beds. “Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas; special seeds in bottles.”

Then Pierce appeared on screen, and you inhaled sharply, watching as he dismantled the domestic scene of one of the kids’ birthdays. The video continued, flashing past scenes of the children being injected with large syringes full of fluid, and then a boy using his powers wildly, attacking the personnel around him. And then Laura was back – only this time on a bloody surgery bed, with half a dozen tubes sticking from her arms. A team of doctors worked on her, and familiar metallic claws protruded from her knuckles.

You choked out sob, and tried to steady the phone in your shaking hand.

Laura, slashing her own forearm with the Adamantium blades.

Men running up a flight of stairs, in time to see a young boy throw himself from the roof.

A computer screen open to a file titled ‘X-24’, followed by a series of disembodied limbs, floating in blue tanks.

Then, men - Reavers - were grabbing the children, and pulling them out of their rooms. Pierce appeared, zapping a child with a metal rod before dragging their unconscious body into a lab room.

“We are going to save as many children as we can," Gabriela continued, voice choked with emotion. "I read about a place up North. A place for mutants. They call it Eden.”

Then the video changed, and the kids were running down the halls, accompanied by Gabriela and a few of the other nurses. Escaping.

“If you’re watching this,” Gabriela said, now addressing the camera from what looked to be a motel room, “it means that I am dead.” Her dark, soulful eyes filled with tears, matching the tears now streaming down your own cheeks. “I am not sure if any other children survived. We were separated.”

You were breathing hard, and you lowered the phone shakily to your bed as the recording neared its end.

“Please,” Gabriela’s voice finished. The voice of a dead woman. “Take her to safety.”

Then the video shut off, returning you to the phone's black camera screen, and leaving your room in darkness.

Your chest rose and fell erratically as if you’d just sprinted a mile, and it felt like there was a vice gripping your stomach, making it hard to breathe. You rose from the bed and walked desperately to the window, then back to your bed, pacing.

“Fuck.” The images from the video flashed through your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!”

You crossed to your door and threw it open, not knowing where your feet were taking you – only that you needed air. This building felt different, now that you’d seen what had gone on here. The pain. The fucking torture, and all the other things you could barely comprehend. Your bare feet slapped the cold floor - you'd not bothered with shoes in your rush - and you took the stairs at the end of the hall two at a time, ignoring the strain on your still-healing shoulder and legs.

You burst out onto the lab's roof as your vision blurred with tears, and gasped for breath. The night was warm outside, and the sounds of the city - dogs barking, distant music playing, and far-off sirens - rushed in around you, replacing the eerie silence of the compound.The sharp gravel of the rooftop bit into your bare feet, but you barely felt it. You put a hand to your stomach, fighting off a wave of nausea as you leaned against the cement wall to your left.

You’d known Transigen were evil. But – that? That was fucking insane.

You leaned your head back against the wall and took a few steadying breaths, trying to process it all.

Far below you, a car door slammed, and loud laughter echoed through the lab's concrete yard. You walked slowly to the edge of the roof and looked down, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you spotted a group of men exiting a dark truck stationed in front of Transigen’s main entrance. A blond head swung from the truck’s cab, and your stomach tightened as you recognized Pierce's tall form. He handed off a black case to another man who carried it inside, and turned to grab something else from the truck.

The image of him dragging an unconscious child across the floor of one of the labs flashed before your eyes, and before you knew what you were doing, you’d stepped off the edge of the roof, curving your wings in sharply for a quick descent. The rush of air pulled at your sore shoulder, but you ignored it, landing soundlessly on the pavement before the vehicle. Your chest heaved as you stared at the men encircling the truck. Then men who’d tortured Laura. Who’d tried to put the mutant kids to death as soon as they no longer served a purpose to the lab.

Pierce was turned away from you, but his head cocked slightly to the side when your bare feet landed on the pavement, as if he’d heard some minute noise behind him. That was the only warning you had before he’d pulled his gun from its holster and swung it around to aim it at your head, almost quicker than you could blink.

Then his eyes found your face, and wings, and a grin spread across his face.

“Well hey there, sweetheart!” He said, returning his gun to its holster and leaning back against the SUV. He wore a sleeveless black shirt above his fatigues, suited to the warm night, and it showed off his muscle-corded arms and the skull tattoo on his neck. The men nearby turned to see what was going on, and quickly caught sight of you standing in the darkness down the walkway. Some stared at you coldly, while others jostled each other, chuckling at unheard jokes.

“Finally come to join your pals?” Pierce asked, a glint in his eye. “Get a little team bonding in?”

But you weren’t in the mood for banter, tonight.

“Transigen made the mutant kids?” You spat, staring at him as your skin prickled with hatred. “This fucking place made them, locked them up, and tortured them, until you decided to kill them?”

The men behind Pierce quieted, and some lab worker who’d been on his way in through the automatic doors paused to glance your way, eyes wide.

Pierce showed no signs of surprise at your outburst, but his eyes grew cold as he tilted his head slowly to one side, examining you. He took in your messy hair, bare feet, and the dark shorts and t-shirt you slept in, before his gaze rose back to your face. “Who you been talking to?” He asked, deceptively casual.

You choked out a harsh laugh. “As if I’d fucking tell you.”

He raised a brow, and snorted incredulously. “For the sake of your little friends, baby, I’d suggest you do,” he drawled. “Otherwise–” he opened a hand helplessly, “who can say what’ll happen to ‘em.” His grin faded, and his eyes glinted with predatory delight beneath a veil of mock regret. “As you know, we really got no issue killing what needs to die.”

Your skin prickled as you held his gaze. Because just like that, you were reminded of the violence simmering beneath the surface of this place. And how easily they could take everything away from you, while you remained a prisoner here in all but name. You ground your jaw, wishing that you’d restrained yourself from hopping down here and confronting Pierce with what you’d learned so quickly, because now, of course, he was suspicious about how you you’d figured it out.

“Laura mentioned being at a lab, but I didn’t put the pieces together till now,” you replied, crossing your arms before you and glancing away as you fabricated an excuse. You couldn't let Pierce find out about Gabriela’s phone, or they’d find the messages between you and Laura. And then you’d lose the only mode of contact you had with her and the others. “I thought she’d just been kidnapped and brought to the lab,” you continued, staring rigidly away at the fence surrounding Transigen. “But if she had Logan’s DNA, then it must’ve meant that someone engineered her. And tested the Adamantium on her. And if you did that to her…” you finished, motioning with a hand to express that you’d extrapolated the rest.

Pierce scrutinized you for a moment, then his mouth curved in a slight smile. “Hm,” he grunted. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not, but he leaned back against the SUV, and waved at the Reavers who’d gathered to watch the little scene play out, motioning for them to continue on their way. Some chuckled as they turned away, shooting you cold smiles before walking off towards the parking lot or turning to grab things from the truck’s trunk.

“Well, great powers of deduction, darlin'," Pierce said, raising something to his lips – a vape – and taking a pull. “But you always knew what you were signing up for. Ain’t no use getting cold feet now.”

Your breathing had gradually slowed, but rage and disgust were still warring with disbelief inside you. But below that, yes; there was also a grim lack of surprise. Of course you knew what Alkali-Transigen was capable of. They’d been hunting mutants to either kill or experiment on for the past 25 years – and if they’d found a way to make mutants of their own, of course they’d be lab rats. But you just couldn’t reconcile that idea with Laura and her friends.

Laura, lying on the surgery table, amidst all that blood.

“Sure, Pierce,” you replied sardonically, your nausea slowly giving way to fatigue. “Of fucking course I shouldn’t be surprised that you like killing kids. I’ve truly never hoped hell exists quite this much,” you added, pitching your voice to reach the receding Reavers. “Cause you fucking monsters will have reserved seating.”

One of them turned to shoot you a smile, waggling his fingers mockingly as he disappeared around the corner, and Pierce sighed, pushing up from where he leaned against the SUV.

“C’mon now, honey,” he said, walking towards you. “Ain’t no such thing as monsters. Just people willing to get things done, and people who ain’t.”

You stared at him in disgust as he approached, while the Reavers’ truck pulled away behind him, leaving the sidewalk outside the lab’s main entrance empty.

“That’s a great line of bullshit you got going there,” you replied tiredly. “Write a fucking book.”

He came to a halt beside where you stood, and gazed skyward, taking another pull from his vape. “I know you don’t get it, sweetheart,” he replied. “You’re soft. Thing is, if we hadn’t done those experiments, someone else would have. And then they’d be getting the big bucks when all of this pays off.” He glanced down at you, unfazed. “See? It’s all just choices.” And as always, his smooth drawl was like warm water on your skin, working to soothe you into believing that he was right. That this was what the world was, and there was no way around it. “You either choose to win,” he finished, “or you’re alright with losin’.”

You rolled his words over in your head, and snorted derisively. But one phrase stuck in your mind, catching your attention through your fatigue. When all of this pays off. So there was a master plan behind the experimentation. Some kind of goal Transigen had, that they knew would pay off big time.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you replied, too tired to come up with a better insult. It was simply the truth. The revelations of the night had left you drained, and your rage and horror were quickly fizzling into numb disgust.

“Mm,” Pierce hummed in agreement, nonplussed. “Tellin’ me that ain’t what you're into?” He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Cause the other night, it seemed to me like –”

“Shut–” you said, turning sharply as you cut him off, “–the fuck up. I was dizzy and fucking injured.” And you were currently in no mood to discuss the other night. You may have decided this afternoon that fucking Pierce for info was a good idea, but that was before seeing taser a fucking child. Though on the one hand, you now wanted to know Transigen’s dirt even more badly. Cause there was clearly a lot of it.

Pierce chuckled at your evasion. “Guess that means I’ll have to kick things off this time,” he shrugged, sighing. Before you'd registered his intent, he was moving towards you, forcing you back against the compound’s cement wall. You glanced up at him in shock, but he only smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist. Then his lips were pressing hotly against yours.

What the fuck, you thought, hands rising to press against his chest, uncertain of whether to push him off. But all thought fled from your mind as he kissed you hard, hungrily, and when you gasped in surprise, you felt him smile against you. And you were breathing in his scent – fucking vape smoke, and sweat, and cologne – and it was disgusting, and intoxicating.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted this, but he pressed you back into the wall, forcing your hands out from between the two of you. You steadied yourself against the wall with one hand, and when you wrapped the other around his waist, he pulled you against him, wrapping his cold cybernetic hand around the back of your neck. Stick to the plan? You thought frantically. Seduce him and see what he lets slip? Or go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person?

Pierce’s hot weight against you made it hard to concentrate on any thoughts, though, and he grew bolder, his human hand sliding under your shirt and up your back, sending shivers racing through you. Finally, you leaned your head back against the wall as his hand slid down to grasp your hip, and gave in to the sensations.

Ah, fuck it.

Pierce felt the tension leave you, and bent his head to trail his tongue up your exposed neck, exhaling in satisfaction. You shivered at the tingling sensation of his breath on your neck, and pulled him closer, winding your fingers through his hair. Then he took your chin in his cold metal hand, and forced your mouth back to his. His tongue parted your lips, and quested deeper.

Dizziness washed over you, and you inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath. His breath hot against your cheek, and smelled of beer and minty vape smoke. “Mm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gaze down at you. “Now this is better, ain’t it?”

You met his gaze, breathing hard. “Better than trying to hold a conversation with you,” you shot back with mock sweetness. Pierce grinned, and returned his metal hand to the back of your neck, grip tightening. Then his mouth was back on yours, stealing the breath from you.

Admittedly, it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but this felt fucking intense in a way you weren’t used to. Probably the constant threat of imprisonment and death, you reasoned. One hell of a kink.

Your skin buzzed in the warm night air, and all focus was lost to the inebriating press of his body against yours. His hips pressed into yours, and he slid a knee upward, parting your legs. You inhaled sharply, and he moved his hands down to the backs of your thighs, preparing to hoist your legs up around him.

But then the doors to the lab whooshed open a few yards to your left, and someone made a startled noise. Whoever they were immediately hurried away towards the parking lot, accompanied by the blip of a pager. But their reaction pulled you back to reality.

And it turned out that while you wanted to be a no-fucks-to-give secret agent who slept with the enemy and stole their secrets in the process, fucking a murderer less than an hour after watching him torture children, and learning that the company he – and now you – worked for had created and experimented on them, felt a bit too icky.

Alright, you sighed internally, so it's gonna to be a 'go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person' kind of night. Bummer. But the murderer in question would undoubtedly still be here tomorrow, and more than willing to continue carrying out your plan.

“Alright cowboy,” you said, pushing up from the wall and forcing your way to the side, extricating yourself from his grasp. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Pierce scoffed, turning his shoulder to lean against the wall as he watched you go. “Really? You ain’t sticking around?” He called, then snorted in laughter. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you’re playin’, baby."

You flipped him off as you walked away, disappearing past the sliding doors and back into the cold air of the lab. But yeah, you thought, your exhaustion returning in a wave as the hot adrenaline began fading from your limbs. That makes two of us.

Taglist:

#fanfic #donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #boyd holbrook #donald pierce x you #enemies to lovers

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e-dubbc11 · 8 months

Note

400 Follower Celebration | Song Lyric Prompts

*You know I'm a sucker for a good song lyric game. XD

Muse: Donald Pierce Song Lyrics: "I turn my back and you're messin' around. I'm not bein' jealous. Don't like lookin' like a clown." -Joan Jett & the Blackhearts ;)

If not that one, then here's another encouraging nudge from yours truly… ;)

Muse: Quinn Mckenna Song Lyrics: Runnin' just as fast as we can, holdin' onto one another's hand. Tryin' to get away into the night and then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground and then you say, "I think we're alone now."

LMAO! I couldn't resist. I figure that whole scenario would make for a great getaway scene that could lead to something hot and heavy with Quinn endin' up on top of the other muse or somethin'. LOL! Either way, I have absolute faith in your abilities to tap into both muses, sweetheart! Just have fun with it and go for whatever gets those juices flowin'! Happy 400 Followers, darlin'! *hugs tight and smooches yer cheek* MUAH! <333

DAX!!! Thank you so so much for following me and I know we haven’t had any lately (I’m sorry) but I love our little chats, they always make me smile 😊 I send you all the hugs and smooches right back to ya! ♥️

And thank you for sending in this prompt and being a part of my celebration . I chose Pierce for this one (maybe I’ll do Quinn too at some point) but I wanted to get this one out for you. But please be gentle, this is my first time writing for him. I hope you like it ♥️

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Donald Pierce x F! Reader

Warnings: A swear word or two, bit of angst, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2k-ish

Summary: Your new job at Alkali-Transigen has you crushing on the head of security

A/N: This is my first time writing for Pierce, I hope I did an ok job. Thank you for reading!

You accepted the job at Alkali-Transigen because it was the only place willing to hire you with little laboratory experience but you also hoped it would be temporary. You were very familiar with what they did there.

Yes, they were mutants but they were children. They didn’t have families, they grew up inside the facility, treated like science experiments, and were designed to be used as weapons.

But they were just kids and they deserved to grow up in a place where they could just be…kids, not in a holding room or being watched by armed guards outside their rooms.

Even though you didn’t work directly with the kids, you did everything you could to make them feel like someone cared like by bringing them candy, little toys, coloring books, and crayons.

You just felt bad for them and always wished you could do more.

Donald Pierce was head of security and leader of a militant group called the Reavers and when you saw him on your first day at Transigen, you were smitten even though you knew you shouldn’t be. Everyone told you to stay away from him but you didn’t listen.

You had heard he dated a couple of the nurses at Transigen that didn’t end well. And he was also the one they sent out to bring back anyone that tried to run, so you did your best to keep your head down and do the job you were hired to do.

Temporary…it’s only temporary.

He found you working on a Saturday morning in the lab, finishing up some paperwork you didn’t get done the day before.

“Oh…I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” He said.

God, his accent was sexy. You played it cool though.

“Oh it’s alright, Mr. Pierce. I’m just finishing up and I’ll be leaving soon, if you need me out faster I can just—“ You stated before he cut you off.

“Now, now I didn’t say you had to leave. You just took me by surprise, is all. That’s not easy to do either. And Mr. Pierce is too formal for someone like me, so please call me Donald or Donnie is fine too. It’s nice to meet you Miss…” He trailed off.

You were hypnotized by his sly smile and southern charm but you snapped out of your trance long enough to answer him.

“Oh! It’s y/l/n…y/f/n y/l/n. I just started a month or so ago.”

One side of his mouth curled up into a slight smile.

“Oh no, I remember. You had your hair pulled back in a low bun that day and I noticed you had a little skull and crossbones pin on your lab coat there.” He said. “As you can see, I’m a fan of the skull and crossbones also.” Chuckling a little, he pointed to the tattoo on his throat.

His memory was impressive. There were a lot of new hires that started that day and he remembered you.

“You have a good memory Mr. Pierce.” You said, completely forgetting that he said it was alright you call him by his first name.

“Well, I never forget a pretty face.” He said with a warm smile, flashing his gold tooth.

Heat rose to your cheeks and warmth spread across your chest as you felt yourself turn different shades of red which is when he asked you to go out for a drink with him. It was the first of many dates with Donald Pierce.

He definitely did not look like Prince Charming, however he could be VERY charming and sweet. That slight southern drawl when he’d call you “sweetheart” or “baby,” made you weak in the knees. The bad boy type always enticed you, gripped you tightly and never wanted to let go and Donnie was no exception.

It was difficult to explain why you were attracted to a guy who had a mechanical arm, a throat tattoo, and a gold tooth but he really was handsome and his bad boy persona made him irresistible to you. He couldn’t be all bad though, could he?

But you weren’t the only one who found his bad boy image irresistible.

It seemed like everywhere you went together, women found Donnie attractive and they never tried to hide it either but what really upset you was when he would flirt back. Who knows what he did when you weren’t around. Maybe you were starting to regret not taking the advice from your co-workers, they did warn you after all.

You wondered if any of them had developed deeper feelings for Donnie so they hated seeing him with you and you hated the fact that you might be in love with him. Was he husband material? Or were you just having fun?

He hasn’t said what his feelings are toward you either so maybe it was just a fling and that’s why he flirted with other women. There was never talk of being exclusive and Donnie did seem like the guy you used as a fling between boyfriends rather than being an actual boyfriend.

He seemed to really like you too though.

“You haven’t run screamin’ for the hills yet but I’m not exactly the kinda guy you bring home to meet mom, ya know? The things Transigen has asked me to do…you don’t know the half of it, sweetheart. But I have to be a strong leader and I relay the orders I get to the Reavers. I can’t appear weak. I’m just not a good guy. I promise you, I do my best not to hurt them when I bring them back after they run.” He told you.

“I know the kind of work you do. I tell myself that ‘it’s just his job, it’s not all that he is’. You’re not a bad guy, Donnie.” You told him.

It scared you to think of telling him how you actually felt about him. He said he was surprised that you didn’t even flinch a little when he touched his mechanical hand to your skin. It was something that he was always a little ashamed of and it surprised you that he actually shared that with you.

“I’m not whole, darlin’.” He had said.

You had touched his mechanical hand, held it in yours and told him that it was just a part of him. It didn’t make him any less of a person in your eyes but he worried. He worried about hurting you, if he gripped your skin too tightly there wasn’t any sensation in his hand so he didn’t know how much pressure he was applying.

“I know you’d never hurt me, Donnie. You never have.” You had said.

But that was a lie.

True, he had never hurt you physically but emotionally, it hurt to watch him flirt with other women though and more than you cared to admit to. It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, it was just humiliating.

And it all boiled over one night when you met him out for dinner and drinks at your favorite local bar. Earlier on the phone, he said he was having a rough day and that he just wanted to relax with dinner and drinks with “his girl.”

As you stepped into the crowded bar, you scanned the crowd for Donnie and found him sitting at a low table in the dimly lit bar area. A wide smile stretched across your lips as you got closer to him but that smile disappeared when you saw the beautiful blonde in a short tight dress sitting across from him.

“There she is. Hey baby.” He waved and turned to the blonde and said, “you’re in her seat, darlin’.”

Your cheeks flamed with anger and your tightly clenched fists rested at your sides with your knuckles showing white.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ya know what? I’ll go. You can have dinner with “legs” here.” You said, turning on your heels and heading for the door.

You heard him call out after you.

“Baby wait! Y/N!”

Suddenly, you felt cold hard metal wrap around your wrist and then your body was being pulled into the coat closet.

“Let go of me, Donnie…NOW!” You yelled.

He shook his head and pressed his lips together in a straight line before saying, “No, I’m not letting go until you tell me what the hell that was all about, sweetheart.”

He gazed down at you with his sky blue eyes, standing close enough to you that you were sharing the same air and because he was holding onto you with his mechanical arm, he couldn’t feel how hot your skin was from the pent up anger you’ve been holding on to for awhile now.

“I don’t like lookin’ like a fool, Donald! How do you think that makes me feel when you flirt with other women like that? And that’s not the first time!” You said, sternly.

Still holding onto your wrist, he replied, “They flirt with me, baby. I don’t wanna be rude. Are ya jealous?” He asked calmly.

“I’m not jealous, I’m embarrassed and I am mad at you and I hate myself for it because it’s not like we’ve ever talked about being exclusive or anything, so I know I don’t really have any right to be angry or jealous but...” You said trailing off with tears burning the back of your eyes and turning away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears that were about to spill over and streak down your cheeks.

He let go of your wrist and with his other hand turned your head toward him and tilted your chin up so you were looking into his eyes.

“Baby, I don’t want you to feel that way. Why would you say that you hate yourself?” He asked.

You inhaled sharply before letting out a long exhale.

“Because…I’ve fallen for you, Donnie.” You whispered. “And I’m afraid you don’t feel the same way because of the way you are always flirting with other women in front of me.”

Your tears had spilled over.

“Well, number one that’s no reason to hate yourself, I am pretty easy to fall for. It’s the accent isn’t it.” He said with a smug smile on his face as you rolled your eyes. But his tone changed as he said, “I really don’t mean to flirt back, I am just tryin’ be polite, darlin’ but I’ll do better because…I’ve fallen for you too, Y/N.” He said, brushing the tear away from your cheek.

Shaking his head, he said. “I don’t hear the L-word very often. But that is what you meant, right?”

You snaked your arms around his neck and gave him a warm smile.

“Yes Donnie, that’s what I meant.” You said and gently pressed your lips to his. “I do love you, ya know when you’re not sitting with hot blondes in tight dresses.”

He let out a little laugh.

“Your ass is the only one I wanna look at in a short tight dress. I love you, sweetheart.” He said.

You pulled him into a tight embrace and Donald winced in pain.

“Easy darlin’, I got shot today.” He said with a slightly wicked smile.

Your mouth dropped as you lifted his shirt and saw the bloody bandage on his oblique but it didn’t look bad.

“Is this what you meant earlier when you said you had a ‘bad day!!?’” You asked with concern in your voice.

He captured your lips again, his were warm and firm as his tongue parted your lips to tangle with yours. The bristles of his beard lightly tickled your cheeks, causing you to giggle. His mechanical hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you flush with him while his other hand tangled in your hair.

He winked and gave you a sly smile, showing off his gold tooth. “It’s just a flesh wound, baby. C’mon, I’ll tell ya all about it over dinner.”

Tagging: @munsonownsmyass @ilovewhiteroses (I know you ladies love Boyd also) feel free to ignore 🤣

#ericca’s 400 follower celebration #lovely friend Dax #donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #logan 2017

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