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lovelybucky1 · 3 months ago

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Little Red

warnings: dubcon, fem!reader, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, age gap, breeding, 18+ minors dni // divider by @strangergraphics

You know it isn’t safe to walk alone in the forest. The trees are dense, the paths are windy, and dangerous animals lurk in the underbrush, stalking their prey. You convince yourself that you’ll be fine; you’re only taking a short walk to your grandmother’s house with a basket of treats. Technically you’ve never made the trek by yourself before, but it can’t be that hard, can it?

You were overly confident when you walked into the woods, but you were quickly humbled when you got turned around. You came to an intersection of paths and you couldn’t remember which to take, so you took your best guess. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong one. As luck would have it, it started to rain during your walk, leaving your cloak, dress, and shoes soaked. You’re cold, uncomfortable, and lost.

After a mile or so more of walking in your wet socks, you stumble across a house. It isn’t your grandmother’s cottage with the lush garden in the front, but a log cabin with an overgrown lawn. You figure that someone inside must be able to give you directions, so you walk up to the door and knock.

At first, there’s no answer, so you try again. You can hear some shuffling from inside and you nervously squeeze some water out of your cloak as you wait for the person to greet you. When the door opens, a large man appears, blocking your view inside the house.

“What do you want?” the man asks with a gruff, slightly irritated voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I got lost on the way to my grandmother’s house. Could you point me in the right direction?” you ask. You feel intimidated by the man’s intense eyes, but you hope your nerves don’t come across in your voice.

The man opens the door wider and steps out, allowing you a better look at him. He is in a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face is scruffy like he hasn’t shaved in a week. His hair is a little wild, along with the look in his eyes. He’s undeniably handsome, in a rugged, lumberjack kind of way. You can tell even from under his shirt that he has muscles, and you have to stop your mind from picturing them.

The man raises a thick eyebrow at you as he takes in your appearance. You’re too distracted to notice the way he licks his lips.

“A little girl like you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he says.

“I know, sir, but I thought I knew where I was going,” you say, feeling embarrassed to explain your lack of direction to a stranger.

He sighs through his nose and opens the door wide enough for you to squeeze past. “Get out of the rain ‘fore you catch a cold.”

Accepting the kind invite, you walk inside the cabin. It’s cozy inside, with not much more than a bed in the corner, a wood stove, and a dining table. Books, candles, and bottles were strewn around, making the place look well-lived.

The man pulls out a chair at the table for you and you sit down. Wordlessly, he pulls your cloak over your head and drapes it near the woodstove to dry. The cabin is thankfully warm, and your frozen hands start to thaw. You quietly thank him, then introduce yourself. In return, he tells you his name is Logan, but he doesn’t offer any more information than that.

“You want some tea to warm you up?” he asks, and that rough voice is music to your ears.

“That would be great.”

He pours you a cup of hot tea from the kettle on the woodstove and you accept it gratefully. The tea is a bit too hot and burns your tongue, but the warmth inside your belly is still welcome. He watches you intently as you drink it, but you pretend you don’t notice.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.” He doesn’t smile, but he gives you a soft kind of look. “It’s nice in here,” you say, looking around at the cabin’s interior.

“Don’t get many visitors,” he says.

“I doubt you get lost girls on your doorstep very often,” you joke.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he says, finally cracking a smile. “Been a long time since I’ve had something as sweet as you.”

The comment strikes you as odd, but before you can think too much about it, he sits down next to you. You get a closer look at his scruffy facial hair, his slightly wild eyes, and his teeth. When he opens his mouth to place his cigar inside, you catch a glimpse of his sharp canine teeth. They’re a lot sharper than your own, sharper than any you’ve ever seen on a person before. They intrigue you, and you want to get a closer look but your view is blocked by the end of his cigar being put into his mouth.

He must catch you staring at his mouth, because he gives you a small smirk around the cigar as he lights it.

“I really should get going,” you say, putting your empty mug down on the table.

“You only just got here,” he says. He places his hand on your wrist, gently pinning it to the table. “You’re still cold.”

You shiver at the feeling of his large, warm hand on your still-clammy skin but you try to brush it off. “My grandmother’s expecting me. I don’t want her to think anything bad happened to me.”

Through a puff of smoke, Logan says, “but something bad did happen to you.” You furrow your brows in confusion. “You got lost in the woods and wandered into a stranger’s house for safety.”

His grip on your wrist tightens and fear starts to build in your stomach. He grins at you, but it’s not a kind look. It’s sharp and predatory, like he’s about to eat you whole.

“Please let go,” you whisper.

“You’re mine now, dollface. I’m not lettin’ you get away.” You try to tug your arm back, but he’s too strong. “Even if you did run, you don’t know where you’re going. There’s monsters a lot worse than me out there, y’know.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your mind races to figure out how to get out of this situation. You’re in the middle of nowhere, well and truly lost, and the only person around is the man currently bruising your arm.

“Monsters that would rip a pretty thing like you to pieces. Not me, though. I know how to appreciate a delicate little flower.”

Logan stands up and tugs you to your feet. He moves his hands to your waist and holds you in front of him. You don’t bother trying to move because you know your efforts will be futile and likely will anger him. He looks down at you hungrily, and this time, you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth.

“Your teeth are so sharp,” you whisper.

Logan grins. “You like ‘em, sweetheart?” As afraid as you are, you do like them. “You wanna feel ‘em?”

Hesitantly and with a trembling hand, you reach up and touch the point of his tooth with the pad of your finger. The tooth is blunt enough not to pierce your skin, but you’re certain that if he bit down, he’d have no trouble drawing blood.

“You’re shaking,” he points out, as if you weren’t well aware of that fact.

Logan grasps your wrist and brings your hand back down to your side, pinning it there. He holds eye contact with you for a moment before leaning in close to you. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your skin.

His lips touch before his teeth, but the feeling is unmistakable. It’s a hot, painful pinch but he’s obviously restraining himself because you don’t feel a trickle of blood running down your neck.

You gasp and try to move away from him, but his hold on you is too strong. He chuckles against your skin and you can feel the smile on his lips.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs.

Logan’s hands wander from your waist to underneath your skirt. He pushes it up around your middle and he leans back so he can catch a glimpse of your panties. He growls low in his throat when he sees the scrap of pink cotton between your thighs.

He’s not even holding you anymore, but you’re frozen in place. You know you should be afraid. You are afraid of the man who's been threatening to eat you, but your body doesn’t seem to be on the same page as your mind. Fear and a strange sense of arousal mix in your stomach, and the feeling is only strengthened by the hungry look in Logan’s eyes. He sniffs the air, and a smirk forms on his lips.

His fingers toy at the elastic band of your panties before they slip beneath them. Your pussy is traitorously wet and Logan is delighted to learn this.

“You got a needy cunt, huh, doll?” he asks. You shake your head, but there’s really no use denying it. “Seems to me like you do.”

He pushes the fabric of your panties entirely to the side, exposing you to the air. He strokes over your lips with his fingers, and he slowly pushes his middle finger in. You take a shaky inhale at the feeling, and you pray your knees don’t give out.

“She takes me so easy. This isn’t why you came here, is it? Put on this whole act just to get this pussy played with?”

“No!” you whine. “My grandmother really is waiting for me.”

“Forget about her. Just you ‘nd me now.”

He pulls his finger out of you and wipes your wetness on the side of your thigh. He then bends down to lift you off the ground. He’s so strong and you’re powerless to do anything to stop him from carrying you over to the mattress in the corner of the cabin.

He lays you down and covers your body with his own before you can attempt to crawl away. He grabs your ankles and bends your legs so your pussy is presented to him. His finger returns inside of you, thrusting and stroking your inner walls.

You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans, not wanting him to hear how much you’re enjoying this. You don’t want to be enjoying this, but he knows all the right places to touch you.

He works a second, then third finger inside you. Your arousal makes the slide easy, but this is the widest you’ve ever been stretched before. If he thinks you need three of his thick fingers to be open enough for his cock, you’re nervous for what’s to come.

“This ain’t your first time, is it, kid?” he asks fondly as he brushes his thumb on your clit, just enough to tease.

You’re afraid to answer his question. If you lie and say it isn’t, then he might go rougher on you. If you tell him you’re a virgin, however, it might awaken a different kind of beast.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, bet no one’s been in here before. That right, baby? You can tell me.”. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, your belly burning with shame and desperation. “Fuck,” he growls. “‘Course you fuckin’ are.”

He removes his fingers from your cunt and works open his fly, not caring that your wetness is getting on the denim of his jeans. He pushes them down far enough to free his cock from his boxers. Your fears have come true, and he is fucking huge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow,” he says as he grasps his dick and strokes it. “You’ve been so good for me.”

He positions himself at your entrance and hits his cock on your clit a few times. You jolt at the contact, but the stretch of it inside of you is more shocking. Luckily, he stops once the tip of it is inside, allowing you to prepare yourself for the rest of the length.

“How’s it feel, dollface?” he asks.

“Good,” you squeak out. It does feel good, but it’s not enough. You’ve felt empty since he pulled his fingers out of you and you need to be full again.

“Can you take the rest or do I need to fuck you like this?” he says, pulling the tip out just to push it back in. You let out an involuntary moan which encourages him to do it again. He gives you shallow little thrusts which don’t do much for him, but have you whining pathetically. “All this just for the tip? The whole thing’s gonna blow your fuckin’ mind.”

“Please give it to me,” you say hurriedly, before the humiliation can catch up with you.

“Yeah?” he asks, cocky. “You were so scared before, but now you’re beggin’ for it?”

He slowly pushes in further, feeding your hungry pussy the rest of his cock. His tip hits your cervix before he bottoms out, and you whimper at the contact.

“Little puss can’t take all of me. Fuckin’ adorable,” he says as if he’s talking to himself.

He begins to fuck you, making sure not to go too deep and hurt you. If your mind wasn’t so clouded with pleasure, you’d find it odd that this monster is making an effort to be careful with you. You expect him to push in without any prep or worry for your comfort.

“Squeezin’ the fucking life outta me,” he growls. His hands grip your hips possessively and he uses them to control his thrusts. “Virgin cunt’s always been my favorite.”

You wonder how many times he’s done this; taken a lost girl’s virginity just because she wandered up to his door. You wonder what kind of state he’s going to leave you in, if you’ll be able to walk away or if you’ll have to stay in his bed while you recover.

“Fuck,” you curse, accidentally letting it slip when he bumps you cervix.

“That’s a dirty word, sweetheart. Am I making you feel that good?”

He’s making your fucking head spin, that’s how good he is. You don’t have more than your fingers to compare him to, but having someone else bully their way into you is so much better than your own fingers that can’t reach deep enough.

“Yes, fuck, Logan.”

“Keep fuckin’ begging for me, angel. I’ll give it to you good.”

He moves his hand onto the mattress next to your head and he braces himself on it. The new position gives him leverage to fuck into you, rutting quick and hard. The slap of skin against skin sounds like thunder in your head, and the flash of his white teeth is the lightning.

His cock is reshaping your pussy, making room for him to sit comfortably inside of you. He is claiming you in every sense of the word, and you’re happy to surrender yourself to him as long as he keeps making you feel this way.

“You were fucking made for me. My little girl, feelin’ so fucking good around me,” he mutters.

Logan’s pace gets progressively quicker and rougher, and he’s getting more animalistic. He’s growling and panting above you, and that wild look in his eyes is back. Like this, he looks exactly like the monsters from the stories you were told as a kid. Feral, aggressive, preying on innocent girls, taking virgins from their families. You’re not scared anymore, though. You’re being throughly fucked by the big bad wolf, and you’re feeling the best you’ve ever felt in your life.

Logan moves so his elbows are bracketing your head and his chest is flush against yours. He fucks you hard and fast, chasing his orgasm. You manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, and it only takes a few touches to have you cumming around him. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and he curses under his breath at the feeling.

“Good girl, keep cumming for me,” he praises. “Knew you were gonna be the perfect mate.”

His words don’t register in your hazy mind until it’s too late. He’s grunting, growling out your name as he shoots his seed as deep inside of you as it’ll go. Your over-sensitive, aching pussy twitches at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you.

He rides out the waves of pleasure, but he doesn’t pull out of you even when he’s finished. He’s still on top of you, pinning you down but having enough mind not to crush you under his weight. His cum is plugged inside you, prevented from spilling out.

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, there is silence. The rain outside has stopped, and the only sound from inside is the mix of your breathing, both quickened from exertion.

You’re not sure how long it is until Logan sits up and pulls out of you, but it feels like ages. You’re boneless and tired, having had every bit of energy and pleasure drained from your body.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he smiles down at you. He moves to lay next to you on the bed, turning your body so he can slot himself behind you. He pulls you flush to his chest and you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

“So good,” you attempt to say, but it comes out a slurred mess.

He chuckles softly at that. “Get some sleep. You’re gonna need your energy.”

You don’t know what he means by that, but you decide you don’t care right now. You fall asleep listening to the loud, steady beat of his heart.

And what a stupid little lamb you are, turning your back on the wolf who’s wanted to eat you since he first laid eyes on you.

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saltywritings · 4 months ago

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Unsworn Protector ( Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen Niece! Reader )

Summary: The reader is sent to Old Town with Daeron, however, is left in an uncomfortable situation when her uncle finds her with a pillow.

Warnings: explicit smut under the cut minors do not interact, incest, age gap, reader has a pillow princess moment, oral (female receiving), penetration, Gwayne is giving sub vibes.

Word count: 3,728

The journey to Old Town was arduous and slow, a monotonous trek that seemed designed to drain one's spirit. Few things could be more disheartening than being sent to Old Town, a place that felt like exile. Your mother, the queen, insisted that sending you and your younger brother Daeron there was for the best, claiming it would build character—whatever that meant. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that she simply preferred not to deal with you. Sending you and Daeron away made it easier for her to focus on Aegon. Despite her intentions, you were frustrated by being uprooted from your home, all in the name of this so-called character building.

When the carriage finally arrived in Old Town, your eyes took in the sights as you traveled swiftly through the city. Having spent your entire life in King's Landing, Old Town seemed exceptionally small. You noticed the tall walls surrounding the castle, some sections near the gate clad in ivy.

"Finally, we're here," Daeron exclaimed as he rushed to the carriage door, eager to free himself from its confines.

With a mix of frustration and disgust, you pushed at your brother’s back as he deliberately blocked the carriage door, trapping you inside. "Daeron!" you shouted, your hands shoving at the coarse fabric of his shirt. "Let me out, you fool!" You struggled against him as he laughed, his mirth only heightening your irritation.

Suddenly, another voice cut through the commotion. "Come now, my prince. Let your sister out," it urged. Reluctantly, Daeron relented and stepped down the few stairs, finally freeing you from the confined space of the carriage.

As you finally freed yourself from the carriage, you realized the voice belonged to your uncle, Gwayne Hightower. Though many years had passed since you last saw him, you recognized him instantly. Stepping forward, your feet now firmly planted on the ground, you shot a sharp glare at Daeron, resisting the urge to shove him, before turning back to your uncle.

"Thank you, Uncle," you said with a small nod.

Daeron, looking bewildered, finally noticed Gwayne. "Oh—Uncle Gwayne. I didn’t recognize you," he replied, prompting you to narrow your eyes.

"I’m not surprised," you said. "You were but a babe the last time he visited."

"Indeed you were," Gwayne said with a warm smile. "I'm surprised you recognize me, Princess. You've grown as much as your brother."

He stepped forward, extending his hand toward you. You raised yours to meet his, and he took it gently, bringing it to his lips with a delicate kiss that conveyed a soft, caring warmth. Your eyes fluttered slightly as you looked at him, appreciating the affectionate gesture.

"You've grown so much," he remarked, turning his attention to Daeron.

"I'm certain I haven't grown that much," you insisted with a modest smile.

Daeron glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and snorted. "Oh, trust me, you’ve grown—just not in height, sister," he mocked. Unable to restrain yourself, you gave him a small shove in response.

Your uncle watched the exchange, a faint smile playing on his lips, and shook his head with a soft chuckle at your sibling rivalry.

Gwayne shook his head with a gentle sigh, his gaze shifting to Daeron. "Now, nephew, I understand why your mother insisted on sending you here. One day, you'll realize the value of your sister's presence. Treat her with the respect she deserves," he urged, his tone firm yet compassionate. You cast a sidelong glance at your brother, a small smile playing on your lips now that your uncle had come to your defense.

Daeron responded with an eye roll, his demeanor defiant. Gwayne cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. "I'll have your cousin show you to your room, Daeron," he declared, nodding towards him. "As for you, Princess," Gwayne continued, extending his arm toward you. "I will personally escort you to your chambers." You took his arm promptly, grateful for his support and guidance in this unfamiliar place.

Gwayne escorted you up the stairs and down a hallway to your assigned room. As the door swung open, you couldn't shake the feeling of entering a stranger's room. Though the space was well-appointed and fair, it lacked the personal touch of home. Sensing your unease, Gwayne spoke up as the two of you entered.

"This will be your chambers. My quarters are just next door," he explained, his voice reassuring. "Consider me your protector, close at hand." His words were accompanied by a small, comforting smile.

In that moment, you realized Gwayne's striking presence: his piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and eloquent speech. His demeanor offered a sense of security that eased your nerves, prompting you to return his smile warmly.

"You are to be your sworn protector then?" you questioned, eyebrows knitting together as you stood somewhat puzzled. Gwayne couldn't help but chuckle softly as he shook his head.

"No, sweet niece. There's no need for that here," he reassured you gently, "but I promise to watch over you." His words carried a comforting assurance.

You nodded in understanding, your hand still linked with his arm. "Did my mother explain why she sent me here?" you asked, recalling her vague answers and insistence that leaving the Red Keep was in your best interest. Gwayne sensed your unease and took your hands in his with tender care.

"Niece," he spoke softly, "Your mother didn't want to send you away, but you're soon to be married—or at least betrothed. She thought it would be easier for you not to be uprooted from your home like many maidens are." His explanation caused you to look away, a mixture of emotions stirring within you.

"I don't want to be betrothed to a stranger," you confessed to your uncle, your hands still held in his. "The thought of belonging to a man I don't know, who doesn't know me—it frightens me."

Gwayne's expression softened at your confession. He released one of your hands and gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. His blue eyes held a depth of understanding as he listened intently to your words.

"Your feelings are valid, my dear. Many women share your apprehensions—I know your mother did," Gwayne said soothingly, hoping to bring you comfort. "Besides, not every lady finds herself betrothed to a stranger. Try not to let fear cloud your judgment until you've had the chance to know your intended," he urged gently, sensing he had eased your nerves.

"I'll leave you to rest now," Gwayne added, seeing your nod of approval. With that, he quietly exited your chambers.

As night descended upon Old Town, you tossed and turned in your sleep, consumed by an unrelenting yearning. The unfamiliar blankets and sheets, devoid of your scent, offered no comfort. Frustrated, you reached for a plush pillow, sitting up and clutching it tightly between your thighs. Slowly, you would rock your hips back and forth, pushing down your core with some friction to alleviate this frustration that burned between your thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed, your night gown slipping from your shoulder as your hips desperately humped the pillow beneath you. You thought of your uncle, you knew you shouldn't, and yet- you could not help but to think of how kissed your hand, the blue of his eyes, how he smelled of sage.

On the other side of the door, Gwayne awoke to a plaintive sound that he initially mistook for a cry. Even through the stone walls, the soft echo of his niece's distress reached him. With concern driving him, Gwayne rose from his bed, the urgency of his duty as her uncle compelling him. He slipped into a pair of pants and quietly left his room.

It was his responsibility to care for and protect her in this unfamiliar place, in the absence of their family. Moving with cautious steps, Gwayne approached her door. Normally, he would have knocked, but in his haste and concern, he bypassed this customary courtesy. He gently pushed the door open, making as little noise as possible.

What Gwayne had come face to face with made him freeze, his entire body tensing up as he looked to the figure of you, the princess, feverously humping a pillow. Your shoulder exposed and hard nipples showing through the sheer of the night gown. Your eyes were still closed as your hips rocked against the pillow. Eyebrows pushed together as soft cries left your lips. Gwayne was more than aware that he should not be there, that he should not be witnessing this, and yet he could not tear his eyes away.

Then you said it, "Gwayne." His name left your lips like a melody and it took one hush of his name to make him impossibly hard. To the point in stung and bulged from his trousers. It was then your eyes fluttered open, and in a few blinks they widened realizing that your uncle stood in the doorway. In a panic your hands grasped the pillow and brought it up to cover yourself.

"Oh, Gods. Princess, I'm -I'm sorry -" Gwayne barely managed to gush an apology as he had went fleeing the room, closing the door behind him as he went rushing back to his room. In the midst of his embarrassment he had been sweating, his heart racing as he stayed in the confides of his room.

He was still hard. Gwayne tried not to think about you. He tried not to think about how you cried as you humped your pillow or how sweetly you spoke his name but he could not.

Gwayne would wrestle with himself for nearly an hour, but at the agony of his own groin he could not contain himself. Gwayne would still be standing as he pulled his pants down, freeing his length as he took it in one hand.

This was wrong, this was so wrong.

And still, he began to pump himself to the thought of you pleasing yourself with a pillow.

I shouldn't be doing this.

He wondered how it would feel to be between your soft thighs, to have you be humping him.

He was almost there.

To have you scream his name instead of whisper it.

Gwayne would soon spill his seed onto the ground as his hand feverishly pumped himself to the thought of you. Gwayne would attempt to find sleep that night but had been unable to do so.

When the next day dawned, you anticipated a conversation with your uncle about the events of the previous night. However, it soon became apparent that Gwayne was actively avoiding you. He didn't join you for breakfast or supper, and your cousin took it upon themselves to entertain you with a tour of Old Town, while another cousin kept you occupied with needlepoint throughout the day. Despite your efforts, the entire day passed without a glimpse of him.

Returning to your chambers in the evening, a growing discomfort settled within you. You couldn't shake the feeling that Gwayne's absence was deliberate. Did he feel embarrassed for having found you in distress? Was he ashamed of you? These thoughts churned in your mind as you lay on your bed, staring up at the canopy for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, you threw off the blankets and stormed out of your chambers. Determined, you strode purposefully to his door, bypassing the courtesy of knocking—after all, he hadn't extended the same courtesy to you last night. You entered his chambers with your face flushed with agitation.

Inside, Gwayne was not asleep. He sat up in bed, bare-chested with the blankets draped over his hips, revealing that he wore nothing underneath either.

"Princess, what are you doing?" Gwayne asked abruptly, his gaze flickering to the sheerness of your nightgown, which left little to the imagination. It was evident that your attire was not quite appropriate for a princess, but after what Gwayne had witnessed the previous night, your choice of clothing was the least of your concerns.

"You walked in on me last night and now you avoid me all day?" you questioned boldly, lifting your chin as you approached his bedside. Gwayne's hands tightened on the blanket, his discomfort palpable as you drew nearer.

"You should go," he insisted, attempting to avert his eyes from you.

"Why?" You questioned sharply as he approached. "Are you ashamed of me now?"

Gwayne shook his head, you had not yet noticed, and he had hoped you hadn't as he looked away.

"It's not that." he insisted quietly.

Your eyes looked down the look of anger seeming to melt from your face as your eyes noticed the bulge beneath the blankets. He was hard, trying to hide it, but failing to do so.

"Please leave." He was begging with all restraint he had. Gwayne could not even look you in the eye as he kept the blankets around him.

You stood there for a moment unsure how to approach but desire beginning to burn between your legs as you looked to him.

"Do you desire me, uncle?" You questioned moving closer to him as a hand gently touched his thigh grabbing a handful of the sheets he was using to cover himself.

"It is wrong- I should not." He said, answering your question without actually answering your question. It was enough for you, his grip tightening to hold the sheets in place as you carefully slid one leg up on the bed, allowing it to rest on one side of him. Gwayne showed restraint, but only little.

"Who says?" you questioned, eyes staring into his as he finally had enough gull to look at you.

"The Gods." he declared. "Common law-" he tried to say with some reason, the one thread of restraint still holding on within him.

"Fuck the Gods," You declared as your hand gave a gentle pull at the sheets. "Fuck Common Law-" He continued to hold on as you pulled. "And fuck me." you said nearly pleading.

Gwayne held the blankets for a moment longer as his eyes looked to you. "You are a maiden, are you not?" He questioned unsure in this moment based on your behavior.

"I am." you declared honestly as you looked to him.

"I can not deflower my own niece." He said allowing a moment of pride to shield him.

"I do not want my first time to be with some lord that I am married off to as a bargaining chip." You insisted nearly pleading. "I desire you, uncle and you desire me." You declared, his grip on the sheet loosening.

Gwayne battled with himself for a moment, but only for a moment, for his strong hands would reach for your face, pulling you gently to meet his lips. Your body pulled onto him as your lips met his. Gwayne kissed your lips with the hunger of a starved man, his hands moved to your night gown and pulled it up, parting his lips to discard it from your body leaving you exposed to him.

He wasted little time in pushing you down onto the mattress, allowing himself to rest above you. In the moon light he took in your bare figure, soon peppering kisses between the valley of your breast and down your body to your cunt. His lips would kiss down to your bud before he grabbed onto your hips. Pulling your thighs to rest on his shoulders as his face pushed into your cunt in a way a pillow never could. It was by this that you were already squirming, back arching at his touch.

Gwayne would not hesitate to allow his tongue to lay flat against your flushed sensitive bud, your hips pushing down slightly as he tried to keep you in place with his grip. Gwayne would lick slowly, tasting your virgin cunt as if it was a delicacy, something he was determine to savor.

Soft moans left your lips as his tongue continued to work against your dripping cunt. Gwayne was carefully when he inserted a finger inside of you. He did not dare to put more than one for with just one finger he could feel how incredibly tight you were. a realization that caused his cock to ache.

Gwayne would slowly pump his finger in and out of you as you moaned loudly, your hands becoming entangled in his long locks, and your thighs pushing shut against him. Gwayne wanted to question you, to ask how you were so sensitive, why you tasted so sweet- but he could not bring himself to remove his tongue if the king himself demanded it.

There would be a hot coil inside of you that would form, growing tighter, as your wet cunt clenched around his finger, and within a moment the coil snapped. A warm orgasm flushing over you as your thighs squeezed his head without mercy, soft tears fell from your eyes as you came down from your high. You were panting as your thighs loosened, Gwayne would pull his finger from you before sticking it in his mouth to suck in clean of your sweet juices.

The two of you locked eyes as you stared at one another for a moment. His hard cock pushed against the inside of your thigh as he debated if he should go through with this.

"We shouldn't." Gwayne gave a small fight once more for the sake of his honor and your own.

"Who would know?" You offered a simple excuse, hoping he would not declare the gods again.

"Who would know . . ." he repeated before he nodded. "You're right. Who would know." Gwayne reasoned as he grabbed his cock as he had carefully begun to move it against the wet folds of your cunt.

"You could drink moon tea after." he suggested again as you nodded in response.

"You're sure?" he asked again his blue eyes looking to you with tender concern but also the last bit of restraint he had in him.

"I am." You said as you pushed yourself down on him slightly causing him to groan.

Gwayne could wait no longer and therefore he lined himself up at your entrance and gently he begun to penetrate you, sliding into your wet cunt slowly.

Your back arched at the feeling of him filling you, he stilled, with only part of himself in you.

"More." You whined out in a demand as you waited for him to fill you completely.

"Patient, princess. Please- I do not wish to be spent so soon." Gwayne insisted, he had slowly begun to push into you. Your legs would soon tighten around his waist, forcing him to put the rest of himself in. A moan came from the both of you as he would soon begin to move slowly.

"Gods, you're so tight." He groaned as he slowly thrusted in and out of you at a slow rate, doing his best not to spill himself inside of you this early.

Gwayne would allow his thumb to return to your swollen bulb, rubbing it softly as he continued to fuck you at a slow and passionate rate. Despite the slow thrust he pushed deep into your warm velvet walls each time, enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his entire length.

Gwayne would continue at this slow rate as you cried out, soon lewd sounds of your wetness would fill the room mixed with your moans.

"I want to be on top." You pleaded, his hips stilled with hesitation. "Please." you begged.

Gwayne hesitated, but even he could not resist. He pulled out of you slowly before allowing his body to fall onto the bed. You wasted no time climbing on top of him and taking his length in your hand. Carefully you lowered your hips onto him.

"Fuck." Gwayne would groan at the sight of you above him. The vision of a Targaryen princess nude above him, as your hips begun to feverishly bounce on his cock. It took everything in him to not spill himself in you at this very moment.

"Princess, please." He pleaded his hands grabbing on your waist to try and slow you down but it was no use, you used him. Moving your hips quickly as you looked to him.

"Hold on, uncle. I'm almost there." You would insisted in a moan as you continued, the feeling of him throbbing inside of you as you fucked yourself on him was enough to let out a cry of pleasure.

"Please get off . . . "He begged, "I shouldn't . . . not inside of you." He insisted more as he tried to steady your hips, though as you moved he relented.

Gwayne could not hold himself back any longer, his fingers dug into your flesh as he came deep inside you. You continued as he filled you with his warm seed. Allowing yourself to fuck every last drop inside of you, peeking your own orgasm that caused Gwayne to grit his teeth. You would roll your hips over him, riding out your high before falling helplessly on the bed next to him. His seed spilling onto your plush thighs.

Gwayne panted as he had looked over to you with soft affection. "I'll have the maester make you moon tea in the morning." he insisted as you looked over to him with a small smile.

"Perhaps if you seed me with your child mother would be forced to marry me to you." You offered looking to him next to you in the bed.

"Or she would have my head." he offered back.

When morning came you were nearly limping as you joined Daeron at the breakfast table, he seemed somewhat restless as he picked at the eggs on his plate.

"There you are." He declared looking to you with dark shadows surrounding his eyes.

"You look like shit." You declared to him with no one else around, he looked to you with somewhat of a resenting look.

"Yeah, well if you're going to fuck our uncle again could you at least keep it down." Daeron declared.

You froze at his comment, you were going to muster up some kind of denial but Daeron spoke again.

"My chambers are on the other side of Uncle Gwaynes." He informed you.

#house of the dragon preferences #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon #dark house of the dragon #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower smut

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lavenderchqn · 2 months ago

Text

"TO PRACTICE FREEDOM"

synopsis — You're the biggest scaredy cat living amongst the people of Scions of Canopy. You try to get over your fear of heights... by trying out bungee jumping under the watchful eye of your partner. Let's just say... it doesn't go according to plan. pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — near death experience (falling from heights), minor character death, spoiler warnings for kinich's story and voicelines, ajaw is a lore accurate menace notes — I've had an idea for this as soon as we learned that Kinich has interest in extreme sports... reading his story felt weird (the longer I am in genshin fandom, the more stuff I predict right...)

The People of Huitztlan believe in the concept of absolute freedom. That’s why so many youngsters throw themselves into dangerous sports with a lack of safeguard measures. Perhaps having nothing securing a person allows them to experience said freedom.

To practice death is to practice freedom, after all.

“We’re here,” Kinich says, looking in your direction. He has held your hand ever since you started your trek up the higher regions of the Coatepec Mountain. “Do you want to take a break?”

“Y-Yeah… I need to… sit.” You slowly get down with the help of Kinich. Only after he signalises being opposite of you, do your eyes open.

Kinich has taken a sit too, still holding onto your hand. He’s slowly rubbing circles trying to ground you as best as possible.

Well… here you are — the biggest scaredy cat, who decided to try and work on your fear of heights by trying out bungee jumping. It’s quite ironic really. Not only are you a resident of Scions of the Canopy, which literally is suspended off the cliffs, but also in a relationship with a guy, whose second name could be ‘extreme sports’.

To say your mind felt pressure to get over it would be quite an understatement.

“We can still get down. Just say the word.” Kinich says, keeping his eyesight directly on you. Even if you had asked him to help you with your fears, he’d never force you to do so. Sure, it’d be pretty cool to share interests with a partner, but it should never come at the cost of their mental health.

You shake your head. You have to try. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think? Kinich will do everything in his power to keep you safe.

“I can do this.” You answer, taking a deep breath.

“Well then, chop chop SLOWPOKE!” Ajaw zooms right near your face, spooking you to bits. “Stop wasting MY precious time!”

“Just how loud can you be…” Kinich sighs, getting up to shoo Ajaw away. “Tone it down a notch, will you?”

The tiny saurian starts arguing with your partner, although you can easily tell it’s one-sided. No matter how much he would try, the most he could bring out of Kinich were insulting comebacks. Ajaw could try and rage the male in multiple ways… and yet, unfortunately for the dragon, your partner was too resilient to die from anger.

In the meantime of their dissing match, you slowly get up on your legs. Ajaw is right… You don’t want to waste Kinich’s time because you’re scared and worried. He takes notice of your sudden movement, once again getting close to you.

“Do you want to try now?” He asks, holding his hand out. These are obvious signs, that he will lead you step by step.

“Yeah… I think I’m ready.”

“Alright. Hold still. I’m going to put the climbing belt on you now.”

As he says, he does. Kinich does it slowly, explaining his movement every step of the way. You’re aware, he’s doing it to ease your mind… and it’s working well. In the blink of an eye, the sound of a snap-hook getting attached brings you back from a short daydreaming session.

“All done.” He takes another look at you, checking if the equipment is snug against your body while making sure it isn’t digging into your skin. “Can you move for me?”

“Yeah, sure!” You do a slow spin, followed by kneeling on one foot. “Although I can feel the harness… it’s not uncomfortable.”

“That's good.”

Once again, it’s another series of your partner explaining the next steps. All you need to do is find a point to connect your line to. He already connected the rope to your belt. The other end is currently sitting tightly in his hand.

“You’re not going to hold me when I jump?” You ask, growing worried.

“I know you’d feel more comfortable with me doing that,” Kinich starts answering, his eyes wandering for an anchor. “I don’t want to also fall down the second you jump.”

He even explains the physics behind it, ending his speech by saying it’s best you move further to look for a good place to jump from.

You’re walking next to Kinich, admiring the scenery. With the rope in his hands, you’re feeling much more comfortable. Although he’s trying to talk here and there… his eyes are still locked on finding a stable anchor.

Unfortunately for the both of you, an anchor is nowhere near. Curse you lunatics with no regard for their safety.

“So many jumping platforms, and yet not a singular anchor?” He questions, closing his eyes.

All of a sudden your eyes land on a ruffed pheasant that just landed on one of the platforms. You’ve never seen one so close! Without thinking about your safety, you start inching closer towards the bird.

Your steps are slow and cautious. The bird, a magnificent creature with iridescent plumage, seems utterly unaware of your presence. Its feathers shimmer in the sunlight, creating a mesmerising display of greens and oranges. An odd sense of calm wash over you, momentarily forgetting the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your insides.

"Careful," Kinich warns, his voice seeming distant as if muffled by the pounding of your heart.

The platform beneath your feet is uneven, its surface worn smooth by the countless jumps of those, who came before you. With no warning, Ajaw jumps from behind your shoulder, screaming right next to your ear. The bird, startled, flies away. You try to also get away when your foot catches on one of the loose boards. The world tilts violently, and suddenly, you're weightless.

A scream tears from your throat as you plummet downwards, the wind rushing past your ears, drowning out all other sounds. The landscape blurs into a mix of greens and browns, the ground below rushing up to meet you at an alarming speed. For a split second, your mind goes blank — pure terror seizing every thought, every instinct. You’re going to fall to your death.

Back on the hill, Kinich’s body goes numb for a second. He’s seen this happen once before. He cannot allow it to happen again. You’re not his drunkard gambling mess of a father, and he’s not his seven-year-old self. Kinich will save you, even if it’s the last thing he ever does.

The blood is pounding in his ears when he shifts all his weight to his legs. Only when he cannot feel any force trying to get him off the cliff, does he start pulling up. With a sharp tug, he jerks you backwards, the rope connected to the harness snapping taut. The force of the pull knocks the air out of your lungs, but it stops your descent abruptly. You swing wildly in the air, the ground still far below, the rope swaying and creaking with the strain of holding your weight.

Above, you can hear Kinich shouting your name, his voice frantic, barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. You cling to the rope, your hands shaking uncontrollably as the realisation of what just happened crashes over you. You almost fell to your death.

"Hold on!" Kinich yells, his voice breaking through the fog of panic in your mind. "I’ve got you, just hold on for me!"

Tears sting your eyes as you try to steady your breathing, every muscle in your body tensed and trembling. The rope holds firm, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, Kinich begins to pull you back up. Each inch feels like an eternity, but his strength and determination never waver.

As soon as your body reaches the ledge, Kinich grabs onto you, pulling you up with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you collapse against him, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice unusually tight with emotion. "I should have been more careful. I should have—"

You shake your head, unable to speak, still trying to process the fact that you're alive, that you're safe. Kinich's arms tighten around you, his hand cradling the back of your head as if to shield you from any further harm.

"You're okay," he murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "You're okay, and I'm here. I'm right here."

For a long moment, you stay there, clinging to him as the fear slowly ebbs away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of relief. The world around you, once a blur of panic and chaos, begins to settle back into focus. The mountains, the sky, the distant sound of birds—all of it feels surreal as if you’ve been given a second chance to experience it. In your state, you don’t notice the glare Kinich is giving to his companion.

If looks could kill, Ajaw would be dead.

After a while of sitting idly, Kinich pulls back slightly, enough to look into your eyes. His face is pale, his expression filled with concern, but there's also a deep, unspoken resolve in his gaze. It’s quite different considering the death stare he was giving the saurian just a second ago.

"We’re done here," he says gently but firmly. "No more extreme sports for today. We are getting you home.”

You nod, still too shaken to argue. As he helps you back onto solid ground, you realise how much you’ve relied on him, not just for safety, but for the courage to face your fears. And even though the experience was terrifying, there’s a small part of you that’s glad you tried, that you didn’t let fear win entirely. You can clearly say, you did indeed practice freedom today.

In a moment you’re seated on his back, Kinich deciding you’ve had enough walking for today. He’s in absolute control now — and he’s picking the safest route possible.

“Oh and Ajaw,” Kinich’s voice is laced with coldness. “Don’t think you’re getting away with the stunt you pulled today.”

"WHAT?!"

date of posting — september 5th 2024

#lavv.writes #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin oneshots #genshin fanfic #kinich x reader #kinich x you

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dixons-sunshine · 8 months ago

Text

Pregnant Pause | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your life was the epitome of a mess. You had just witnessed two of your friends get brutally murdered, your community was forced to serve an antagonistic group called the Saviours and your partner was taken by the same group, undoubtedly being tortured to try and force him into submission. It wasn't the best moment of your life, and it definitely wasn't the best time to start suspecting that you were pregnant.

Genre: Angst to a little bit of fluff.

Era: Alexandria, Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, mentions of death, typical TWD warnings

Word count: 6.9k

A/n: I had so much fun writing this! To the person who requested this (they asked to remain anonymous), thank you so much. I really hope you like this and I really enjoyed swapping ideas with you for this fic.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

Tears were streaming down your face with no sign of stopping anytime in the near future. In front of you, you could see the disfigured bodies of two members of your group, two of your friends. Glenn Rhee and Abraham Ford, brutally beat to death with a wired baseball bat. It was a fate that nobody deserved, especially not somebody as kind and pure as Glenn, or somebody as caring and courageous as Abraham. But they were gone, and with them, the remaining group's goodwill and hope.

Their deaths weren't the only things that weighed on your shoulders. Negan, the leader of the so-called 'Saviours', had taken Daryl, your partner and love of your life, hostage. You had pleaded to them to let him go, but your pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and with one last tearful look at your archer, the doors to the truck had closed and taken off, taking a huge chunk of your heart with the retreating vehicle.

You could vaguely hear the sound of voices conversing and the shuffle of footsteps around you, but your attention remained fixated on the dirt beneath you. Your mind was racing at the speed of light at that moment, and yet simultaneously, you struggled to think of anything at all. It seemed that with your partner's involuntary departure, your ability to function evaporated into thin air. You had no idea what to do.

You barely registered when Rick shook your shoulder, desperately trying to snap you out of your daze. “Y/N, look at me.”

You hesitantly looked up to meet the striking blue eyes of Rick Grimes, his eyes bloodshot from the tears he had shed earlier. He was tired, that much you could tell, and he seemed to be consumed by grief, the prior events to that moment taking an obvious toll on everyone, including your fearless leader.

“We have to go. It's not safe here,” he whispered, gently urging you to stand. He was patient and caring, knowing full well that the events that had just transpired bore down into your soul. This would traumatize each and every one of the people present, of that much he was sure.

You remained silent, refusing to say anything until you'd had time to fully process everything. The remaining people in your group wordlessly split, Maggie and Sasha heading to the Hilltop and the rest of you heading towards the Alexandria safe zone. Aaron dutifully walked beside you, glancing over at you in concern every few seconds. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off before he could utter anything.

“Please, don't,” you whispered weakly, furiously wiping at the tears in your eyes.

Aaron frowned. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, careful not to alert the others who were walking in front of you.

You shook your head and let out a bitter laugh. “No,” you admitted, pursing your lips. “I'm pretty sure none of us are.”

Aaron's frown deepened, but he ultimately left it at that. The rest of the trek back to Alexandria was spent in a deathly silence, the only audible sounds being footsteps and animals scurrying around in the forest. When you all finally reached the safe zone, dread filled in your heart, because with the Saviours now fit to come knocking at the gates whenever they pleased, the safe zone would never truly be safe ever again.

—

Four days had passed. Four days since Glenn and Abraham had been brutally murdered in front of you. Four days since your partner had been taken hostage by the hostile group who claimed to be saviours. Four days since your world turned upside down.

The fellow survivors in the community had not taken well to the news of the Saviours' deal with Alexandria, but you had expected that much. They weren't there, they didn't know what could happen if you rubbed the Saviours the wrong way, but you did, and they would figure it out soon enough.

You sighed as you layed on the bed in the basement you shared with Daryl, staring up at the ceiling with a frown on your features. For four days you had tried to think of a solution to the problem at hand, but you had shot point-blank each time. And anytime you had even attempted to talk to Rick about retaliating, about fighting back, he had shut you down in an instant. You couldn't blame him, however. You had witnessed the brutality that Negan possessed and didn't wish to anger him again. You just wanted to find a way to get Daryl out of his clutches and back home, safe. You needed him there with you, especially if your suspicions about something proved to be correct.

For the last two weeks, you'd been way more tired than usual. Your body had grown accustomed to short hours of sleep or no sleep at all, but now it seemed as if you couldn't function even if you'd slept ten hours. You'd been getting nauseous quite frequently and although you had no way of keeping track between your periods, you were pretty sure it was late.

You weren't stupid. You knew what those implications meant and what they were leaning towards, but the possibility of it being true scared you. You and Daryl were as careful as you could be, but there were times when you weren't careful, when you were reckless, so the possibility of motherhood could be an impending thing.

You and Daryl hadn't ever really discussed having kids before. The topic came up once or twice, but that was during the earlier stages of your relationship back at the prison when neither of you were ready for that kind of commitment just yet. And with the whirlwind of chaos that ensued, from the Governor's wrath in Woodbury, to the Governor's annihilation of the prison, to Terminus and then to the fall of Alexandria when the walkers infiltrated, the topic never got the chance to come up again.

And now the possibility of you being pregnant was high, and there was a chance that you'd have to raise the baby without its father.

You quickly shook your head to rid the thoughts from your mind. Groaning in frustration, you got up from the bed and headed up the stairs towards the kitchen. There you found Rosita who was seated at the dining table, her features contorted into a frown while she was fiddling with a gun in her lap. She glanced up at you when she heard your footsteps and offered a silent nod of acknowledgement.

You gave her a nod back and headed towards the kitchen. You retrieved a glass from one of the cabinets and headed over to the sink, filling the glass with water. You leaned back against the kitchen island and slowly sipped at the water, your eyes trailed on one of little Judith's drawings that were stuck to the fridge. It was a picture of stick figures meant to represent everyone in the group, and your heart sank when your eyes trailed over the figure meant to represent the archer.

“What're you looking at?” Rosita asked, grabbing your attention.

“Just this picture that Judith drew of all of us,” you responded, half-heartedly motioning at the drawing stuck to the fridge.

Rosita walked over to you and positioned herself on your right, leaning back against the kitchen island as well. She smiled weakly at the drawing.

“Back when we were happy.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, averting your eyes from the drawing to the woman next to you. “Now everything's just gone to shit.”

“All thanks to that Negan puto,” she spat, her tone holding resentment and anger. Her anger was justified—she had witnessed Abraham getting beaten to death, and afterwards Negan had taunted her about it. He found what he did justified. You knew that Rosita wanted him dead, and you did too.

“Yeah,” you replied with a heavy sigh, placing the empty glass down on the countertop. The two of you stood side by side in silence for a few moments, before Rosita broke the silence again.

“What's up? It seems like something has you down.”

“Yeah, Daryl is being held hostage only god knows where and we have three days to find shit for those assholes or one of us dies,” you stated matter-of-factly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rosita sighed. “I know, but that wasn't what I meant. It's something else, I can tell.”

You fixated your gaze on the ground, suddenly finding the tiles more interesting than anything else. “No, I mean... I don't know. It might be nothing, but...” You trailed off awkwardly.

Sensing your awkwardness, Rosita quickly tried to reassure you. "It's okay, you don't have to talk about it."

You shot her a grateful look and she gave you a small smile. You brought your hand up and lightly patted her on her shoulder before pushing away from the counter.

“Where are you going?” Rosita inquired, raising her eyebrows in question as she watched your retreating figure.

“I need some air.”

Without waiting for a reply from the woman, you closed the door behind you and leaned back against it momentarily, before pushing away and setting off towards the infirmary.

After a short walk, you arrived at the infirmary. After opening the door and seeing that nobody was inside, you breathed a sigh of relief. You wanted to get this done without anybody knowing. You didn't want people kicking up a fuss when there were bigger problems at hand.

Moving towards the cabinet you knew held the object you were looking for, you could feel your heart racing. When you retrieved the small box with the test that could literally change your life, you felt overwhelmed. You never thought that a small box would intimidate you, but that particular box did.

Wanting to be extra sure of the results, you grabbed another test from the cabinet. Slipping both tests out of the boxes and into your waistband and letting your shirt fall over them to cover them from prying eyes, you quietly slipped from the infirmary before anyone could notice that you were there. You walked with a haste in your step back towards the house, but the sight that awaited you at the gates quickly drew your attention. You quickly made your way over, where you saw none other than Negan beyond the gates, taking out an approaching walker.

You walked up next to Rosita, who looked over at you, anger dancing in her eyes. You were sure that your eyes mirrored the same emotion.

“Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy!” Negan laughed. His eyes strayed to his right, and you could see Rick following his gaze. From your point of view, you could see surprise spread across his face.

“Alright, everybody. Let's get started. Big day,” Negan started, talking to people who were out of your line of sight. “Hey, Rick. You see that? What I just did? That is some service! I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate. Who is that guy, anyway? Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger's dome in? Nope! I just take care of one of these dead pricks that could've killed one of y'all. Service.”

Your gaze strayed downwards when Negan locked eyes with you. He chuckled before walking through the gates, handing Rick his baseball bat. “Hold this.”

As Negan walked in, the rest of the people he brought with him followed after him. However, you looked up when Rosita let out an almost inaudible gasp. You followed her line of sight and locked eyes with Daryl, and your heart both soared with relief and filled with dread. You were relieved that Negan hadn't killed him, but you could see that he wasn't being treated fairly, either. He was dirty and his face was cut and bruised, and he wasn't wearing any shoes with his "uniform".

You frowned, your eyes not straying from Daryl. Your partner kept his eyes locked on you until Negan spoke up again.

“Hot digidy dog!” Negan exclaimed, his eyes sweeping over the community. “This place is magnificent. An embarrassment of riches, as they say. Yes, sir, I do believe you are gonna have plenty to offer up.”

You looked away from Negan and took a step towards Daryl, hoping to give him a short hug. “Daryl—”

“No. Nope. He's the help. You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make Rick chop anything off of him,” Negan cut you off, his eyes shifting to Rick.

When Rick averted his gaze, Negan turned to you, his eyes holding a certain malevolence as he gazed down at you. “Do I make myself clear, darling?”

“Yeah, you've made yourself transparent. I can see right through you,” you spat bitterly, refusing to meet his mocking gaze.

Negan chuckled wickedly. “Careful. We don't want anything to happen to your little lover over there.”

You slowly looked up at the man, your jaw clenched as you glared at him. A few beats of silence passed until you broke the stare first, angrily walking away from him, back towards the house. Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you willed them away, refusing to let them fall. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of your tears, no matter if he saw it or not.

When you reached the house, you practically flung the door open, storming into the house. Carl, who had been sitting at the dining room table, looked up at your sudden appearance and gave you a concerned look.

You mustered up what you hoped was a reassuring smile and sat down on the chair opposite him. He gave you a questioning look, silently asking what was wrong.

“Negan's here,” you plainly stated, not missing the clenching of his jaw in anger.

“He said a week. He's early,” Carl stated angrily, curling his hands into fists.

“Yeah, but he's here anyway. And he brought Daryl.”

Carl perked up at the mention of the archer's name. “He's here?” When you nodded, he continued. “Is he gonna stay?”

“I doubt it. Negan said that Daryl's here as the help, so I'm pretty sure that Negan's taking him back as soon as he's done here.”

Carl's mood visibly deflated. He sighed and shook his head. “We can't live like this. We should just kill Negan.”

You shook your head. “Believe me, I want Negan dead, too, but even if we kill him, one of his other goons will step up and take his place. We have to kill all of them, not just Negan.”

“How? There's too many of them.”

“I don't know.”

Carl shook his head before standing up, pushing the chair back. “I'm gonna go check on Judith, make sure she's alright.”

At the mention of the small child's name, you suddenly remembered about the two tests that were stuck in your waistband. You got up, too, and nodded at the teenager. “Okay. I have to take care of something real quick.”

With a parting nod, you headed up the stairs and into the bathroom. Quietly locking the door behind you, you inhaled deeply, trying to ease the anxiety that had started to build. You took the two tests from your waistband and held it in front of you, knowing that the results that would show in a few minutes were going to change your life.

Shaking your head and inhaling deeply, you went over to the toilet, two tests in hand. You quickly did your business and placed the two tests on the countertop. You paced around in the bathroom, trying to work up the nerve to see what results awaited you. However, just as you were about to look at the results, a loud banging on the door startled you.

“Hey, hurry up in there! We don't have all day to wait on you!” A voice you didn't recognise bellowed from beyond the door, and you could only assume that it was one of Negan's men. Sighing, you grabbed the tests without so much as peeking at them and slipped them back into the waistband of your jeans. You walked over to the door and opened it, coming face to face with a Saviour.

“What were you doing in there that took you so long, huh, pretty lady?” The man asked, eyeing you up and down with a primal intrigue. You shivered in disgust, shooting him a glare.

Without a word at the man, you walked off, needing to clear your head. The pregnancy tests in your waistband pressed against your skin and reminded you that you had to look at them, but you decided that would have to wait. You weren't about to look at them around prying eyes.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the house. Startled, you sprinted towards where you heard the sound and saw Carl holding two Saviours at gunpoint, the Saviours in question holding crates with all of your medication.

“Put some back,” Carl started, pointing the gun at one of the men. “Or the next one goes in you.”

“Carl, what's going on?” You questioned, moving to stand next to the teenager.

“They said that they were only taking half, but now they're taking everything,” Carl explained, keeping his gun trained on the man in front of him.

The man simply laughed, wickedly smiling at the boy. “Kid, what do you think happens next?”

“You die,” Carl stated plainly, glaring at the man.

You looked over at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Rick, his eyes meeting yours questioningly. You simply shrugged nonchalantly and put a gentle hand on Carl's shoulder. He looked over at you and you gave him a small, tight-lipped smile.

“Don't do anything stupid,” you advised, before leaving Rick to calm his son down. You passed by Negan, who shot you a teasing smile, but you ignored him, moving out onto the porch.

You leaned over the railing, observing the people quietly. You could vaguely hear the voices from inside, but you paid it no mind. After a couple of minutes of just standing there, you saw Aaron walking alone, a frown on his face. You walked down the porch stairs and hurried to catch up to him.

“Aaron, hey!” you called, stopping the man in his tracks. He turned around and saw you approaching, and he offered you a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“Let me guess, the Saviours are ransacking your house right now,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“They took our mattresses. Why the hell would they need that? And our coffee tables? What could they possibly need those for?” Aaron asked, exasperated. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, his form slumped.

“I think they're just taking them because they can,” you started. “They're trying to prove that what they say is law. They're trying to prove that we have no say, that they can take whatever they want simply because.”

Aaron sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. “I hate this.”

“Me too,” you agreed, nodding sagely. “But what can we possibly do about it now? We're outnumbered and outgunned. We can't take them on even if we wanted to.”

Aaron shook his head. Silently motioning for you to walk with him, the two of you set off, walking to nowhere in particular. “I'm glad to see that Daryl's okay.”

You slightly flinched at the mention of the archer's name and visions of his current state flooded your mind. He looked awful, not just from the filth on him but from the bruises as well. He was being tortured and you wanted to do nothing more than to kill Negan for making him suffer.

“Define "okay",” you sighed, walking up to Aaron's house with him.

“Alive,” he stated simply. The two of you sat down on the porch steps, keeping your gazes ahead on the Saviours who bustled around the community, taking whatever they pleased.

“Yeah, well, let's hope it stays that way,” you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You wiped them away in frustration.

Aaron placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving you a small smile. The two of you quietly sat side by side for a while, simply looking at the chaos of the afternoon. You'd catch glimpses of Daryl from time to time, and he'd shoot you nervous glances before returning to whatever task he was meant to do. Your heart shattered at the thought of what Negan was doing to the love of your life. You silently vowed to yourself that you would find a way to get Daryl away from them, one way or another.

“Aaron, Y/N, meeting in Gabriel's church in five,” Rick's voice called, snapping you from your thoughts. He appeared at the bottom of the steps, his tone holding a frantic urgency.

“Rick? What's wrong?” You asked, getting up from the steps, Aaron following your lead.

“The Saviours, they're taking all of our guns, but we're two handguns short. They're threatening to kill Olivia if we don't find them.”

“Who would have them?” Aaron asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I don't know. That's what we're trying to figure out. Like I said, meeting in the church.”

“Nuh uh. Not so fast.”

You clenched your jaw at the voice that resounded behind you. Turning around, you came face to face with Dwight, his mouth upturned in a mocking grin. He was nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the house.

“The missus over here is gonna take me back to whatever hole she and Daryl calls home and give me his shit,” he stated, pushing away from the wall and walking over to you.

You stepped back, glaring angrily at the man. “You already have his crossbow and his vest. What else could you possibly want?”

“His bike, but Rosita's already taking care of that,” Dwight said, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned back towards Rick and waved him off. “Go on, go find out where those guns are.”

Dwight moved forward and gripped your wrist tightly, wordlessly tugging you behind him. You exchanged a nervous glance with Aaron before turning your attention back to Dwight. You ripped your wrist from his grip and glared at him.

“Touch me again and I'll fucking chop your fingers off one by one.”

Dwight chuckled and walked ahead, expecting you to follow him. When he realised that you remained still, he turned to you with a warning glare. “Just so you know, I'm basically Daryl's primary caretaker at the moment. So your behaviour today can either persuade me to make his stay with us better or so much worse. Your choice.”

You hesitated for a moment, before sighing and walking ahead. Dwight's footsteps could be heard from behind you as you silently lead him back to the house, your jaw clenched in anger as you stared ahead.

After a short walk, you lead Dwight up the porch stairs and into the house. You opened the door and stepped inside, the man following closely behind you.

“This is your home?” Dwight questioned, slowly closing the door behind him as he looked about the house in slight awe.

“Mine, Daryl's, Rick's, Michonne's. We all live here,” you stated in a bored tone, walking forward until you reached the door that lead down to the basement. “Our room's down there.”

“You live in the basement?” Dwight asked dubiously, staring down the stairs in question.

“Daryl and I do. We wanted our own space away from everyone where we wouldn't be bothered, hence why we chose the basement.

“Well, then,” Dwight started, lowering his upper body down in a mocking bow. “Lead the way, m'lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him and descended down the stairs. You opened the second door at the bottom of the stairs and pushed inside, the warm air of your shared space with the archer suddenly feeling overwhelming. You disregarded the feeling, focusing instead on the man that followed you down.

You motioned over to the dresser that held most of Daryl's things. “There. You'll find it all there.”

Dwight raised his eyebrows. “All of it? In that one measly dresser?” When you nodded, he continued. “That can't possibly be it.”

“Daryl doesn't own a lot of things that hold sentimental value to him,” you shrugged, sitting down on the bed as you watched the Saviour rummage through the dresser, carelessly tossing pieces of clothing over his shoulder. “Jesus, can you stop? He doesn't have anything else you could want.”

Huffing in frustration, Dwight turned around to face you. However, just as he was about to let out a string of crude remarks, he stopped, spotting something poke out of your waistband. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up, before I make you,” he threatened.

You hesitantly stood up. However, you nearly stumbled back when he lunged at you. “What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed, trying to push him away.

Dwight ignored you. Before you could stop him, he pulled the two pregnancy tests from your waistband, taking a few steps away from you. He eyed the tests, and a look of surprise spread over his face.

“You're pregnant?”

Time stopped. Your heart started pounding against your ribcage, and your eyes widened. You were pregnant. Both tests came back positive. Words eluded you as you simply stared at Dwight.

Dwight shook his head and threw one of the pregnancy tests back in your direction, and you hastily caught it. He pocketed the other one. “Congratulations. I'll be sure to tell Daryl the good news.”

Before you could deny or force him to hand it over, Dwight hurriedly left the room. You sank to your knees on the ground, tears starting to well up in your eyes. You felt helpless, completely and utterly helpless. Sobs wracked through your body as you clutched the pregnancy test in your hand, wishing more than ever that Daryl was there to comfort you, to reassure you that everything would be okay.

But with him being in Negan's clutches, that wouldn't be a reality.

—

“Hell of a place you got here, Rick,” Negan told Rick, turning around to face him as you all walked towards the gates.

Roughly two hours later, the Saviours were done ransacking your homes and taking whatever they pleased. You had gotten your feelings under control and walked with your leader towards the gates, hoping above all else that you could persuade Negan into letting you at least give the archer a hug.

“Give me a second,” Rick replied, his eyes shifting between the hostile leader of the Saviours and the building beyond the gates.

Negan followed his gaze, before turning back to him. “No.”

“Please, can you just... Give me a second,” Rick pleaded, looking up at Negan.

Negan finally agreed, giving him a nod, a malicious smirk on his face. When Rick jogged over to the building, that left you in Negan's sights, and the man let out a chuckle.

“Well, darling. I see you've actually listened to me. No interactions with your loverboy whatsoever. I'm impressed,” he began, taking a step towards you.

Standing your ground, you simply glared up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sarcastic retort. That simply elicited another chuckle from the man.

“You know, there is a way the two of you could be together again. You could always come work for me. Be one of my soldiers, so to speak,” he began, eyeing you up and down. “Usually I wouldn't offer that straight away, but for a looker like yourself, I'd make an exception. Or you could make Daryl's life a whole lot easier if you want. You could become one of my wives.”

Unable to resist the urge, you drew your hand back and slapped Negan across his face. Taken aback, he stumbled, but that grin of his soon returned. His eyes raked over your form hungrily. “Just so you know, I'm so much more attracted to you now.”

You could hear a scuffle behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted an angry looking Daryl being held in place by Dwight. The archer glared daggers in Negan's direction, the urge to hit him evident on his face.

However, before anything could happen, Michonne came marching through the gates with a small deer over her shoulders, Rick hot on her tail. She wore a blank expression, refusing to meet Negan's stare.

“Look at this!” Negan exclaimed, eyeing the deer on her shoulders.

“I thought she was scavenging. She was hunting,” Rick explained to Negan, handing him a gun. “This one never came inside.”

Negan took the gun and smirked. “Look at this. This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick. This is reading the room and getting the message. I said it before, Imma say it again. You, sir, are special.”

Rick looked at you, sympathy clear in his eyes. “Now that you know we can follow your rules...”

“Yes?” Negan drawled.

“I'd like to ask you if Daryl could stay.”

“Not happening,” Negan refused. He turned around to look at you, a smirk on his face. “You know what, just to make the missus happy, maybe he can stay. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me.”

Negan turned to Daryl. The archer remained quiet, his eyes shifting between you and Negan. It was evident that he wouldn't beg to stay; Daryl's pride would never allow him to do that. Although a part of you wanted Daryl to just drop his pride this once, you were proud of him. Despite what he was going through, he remained steadfast in his beliefs. He would never bow to the likes of Negan, no matter what pain it could inflict on him.

“Daryl?” Negan pressed, amused by the archer's silence. When Daryl remained silent, Negan turned back to you. “Well, Rick tried. Sorry, darling.”

You looked down, missing the apologetic look Daryl sent your way. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl had wanted to do nothing more than beg Negan to leave him here with you, but he couldn't. Not when Negan had threatened to hurt you if he tried to return to Alexandria. Not when his hostage situation could ensure your safety.

“Now what you gotta do, is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there,” Negan began, looking at Rick. “Earn for me, because we're coming back soon. And when we do, you better have something interesting for us, or Lucille? She's gonna have her way. I want you to hear that again. If you don't have something interesting for us, somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns. Arat, grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home.”

Michonne angrily dropped the deer and turned around. You shot one final lingering glance at the archer, your partner and love of your life, before following suite. Michonne put her arm around your shoulder and together the two of you walked back to your shared home, ignoring Negan's mocking laughter.

“Something's wrong, I can tell,” she whispered quietly.

You shook your head. “I wouldn't necessarily say something is wrong,” you denied. “I just really need Daryl more than ever right now.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “But not without Rick. I need his opinion too.”

—

“You're pregnant?”

You physically winced at the incredulous sound of your leader's voice. For the second time that day, someone had asked you that pivotal question, but this one finally made it register in your mind. You were pregnant. And Daryl wasn't there to help you through it.

Michonne wrapped an arm around you, allowing you to lean into her side for support. She rubbed your arm, hoping to bring you some form of comfort under Rick's disbelieving stare.

“Rick,” she scolded, sending her partner a pointed look, as if telling him to read the room.

“Sorry,” he apologized, shifting his attention back to you. “When did you find out?”

“Today,” you whispered, your voice hoarse all of a sudden. “Right after Dwight took me down to the basement to rummage through Daryl's things. He saw the tests and took one. I think he's gonna use it to torture Daryl mentally. How could I let that happen?”

Michonne pulled you tighter against her side, allowing you to cry into her shoulder as she whispered reassuring words into your ear. “It's not your fault. Hey, it's okay. We'll figure it out, I promise.”

You hesitantly nodded against her shoulder, withdrawing from her hold and standing up. You began to pace the room, anxiously fiddling with your fingers.

“What should I do?”

“Go to the Hilltop,” Rick advised, effectively stopping your pacing. “They have a doctor there who can ensure that you and the baby are okay. And you'll have Maggie and Sasha by your side. It'll be safer for you there.”

“I can't just leave,” you shut him down, shaking your head. “Negan is fit to come knocking at the gates whenever he pleases. We need more supplies, and soon. We need more people going out there.”

“Like hell I'm letting you out there,” Rick argued. “Daryl would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you or the baby, whether he knows about it now or not. The best thing you can do now for yourself and your baby is to go to the Hilltop. It's safer and it's out of harm's way. Please, if not for yourself, for Daryl. For your baby.”

Sensing your hesitation, Michonne stood up, facing you head-on. “Rick's right,” she began, capturing your undivided attention. “Go. We'll be okay here. Your primary focus should be your wellbeing right now. Once things cool down around here, I'll come get you myself. I promise.”

You remained quiet for a few moments, pondering over their words before nodding. “Okay,” you whispered. “I'll go.”

“We'll have a car ready for you in the morning,” Rick responded, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You're doing the right thing. Daryl would've wanted this.”

“I know,” you sighed. “It doesn't make it any easier, though.”

The next morning came way too soon for your liking. Packed up and ready to go, you exchanged goodbyes with everyone. You were busy hugging Carl, the teenager clutching to your shirt tightly.

“Don't die,” he told you when he pulled back from the hug.

“Don't do anything stupid,” you retorted, playfully pushing his hat down over his face, successfully coaxing a laugh from him.

After a few more exchanges, and another hug from Carl, you got into the car and drove off, heading towards the Hilltop Colony. The drive was spent in an anxious silence. You were wondering if you'd made the right choice, if leaving Alexandria for a while was really the best decision, but as your hand drifted to your flat abdomen that would soon grow, to the life that fluttered there, you knew that Rick and Michonne were right. Your primary focus should be your baby right now, and you'd be damned if you let anything happen to them.

After a while, the gates to the Hilltop came into view. You got out of the car as the gates opened, soon being engulfed in hugs by Sasha and Maggie. Jesus stood off to the side with a smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Maggie asked, pulling back from the hug.

“It's a lot to explain,” you said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Come inside. We'll get you something to eat,” Jesus offered.

You smiled at him and nodded. “Sure. That sounds great.”

—

“That Gregory guy is such an asshole,” you spat angrily, sitting on the bench outside of Jesus' trailer.

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Welcome to my world. We've been dealing with this prick for two weeks now and he still hasn't gotten better.”

You shook your head, your hand absentmindedly rubbing over your stomach. One week with the Hilltop's leader breathing down your neck and you were just about ready to shoot him. He kept on sending crude remarks in your direction, voicing his obvious disdain that he had yet another Alexandrian he had to keep hidden from the Saviours. Thankfully Jesus was there to put him in his place whenever you were the object of his distasteful glares, and since the day before, Enid as well.

Suddenly, shouts could be heard from the gates, before they were opened. You perked up at the rumble of a motorcycle, standing up to move closer and get a better view, instantly spotting the familiar glint of a familiar motorcycle coming to a halt, and an even more familiar man getting off of it. Your heart started pounding against your ribcage, and before anyone could stop you, you started running.

“Daryl!” you called, running as fast as your legs could carry you.

Daryl turned around at the sound of your voice. As soon as he saw you, he started running as well, meeting you halfway. You practically flung yourself into Daryl's arms, and he instantly reciprocated the hug, burying his face into your shoulder. You hugged him to you tightly, holding the back of his head as you tried to withhold the tears flooding in your eyes.

“C'mon,” Jesus urged gently, prompting you and Daryl to pull apart. “There's a room in the Barrington house. You can use it to get cleaned up and changed into something else.”

Daryl hesitated, but you nodded. “It's okay. I'll be there with you.”

You took Daryl's hand in your own and followed behind Jesus. The two of you were soon in the aforementioned room, Daryl sitting down on the bed while you cleaned up one of the cuts on his face. He remained silent, his eyes locked on your face. He lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, halting your movements.

“What's wrong?” you asked, placing a hand over his one that rested on your cheek.

“M'jus' remindin' myself tha' this is real. Tha' this ain't some trick my mind is playin' on me. Tha' this ain't another dream.”

You gently took his hand and lead it to your heart, placing his hand over it to feel the steady beating of it. “I'm here,” you whispered. “You're here. This isn't a dream. It's real.”

Daryl swallowed and nodded, before letting his hand trail down to your stomach. “Is... Is this real? Are ya pregnant?”

Your heart dropped. The only way he could know was if Dwight did what you suspected—he mentally tortured the love of your life with the knowledge that you could've been pregnant.

Your silence confirmed it for the archer. He sighed and swallowed heavily. “Ya are. Yer pregnant.”

You nodded slowly, guilt creeping up in you. “I am. Did Dwight tell you?”

“He showed me the test. Said it was yers, tha' he found it with ya tha' day we were at Alexandria. I didn't wanna believe him at first, but the more I thought 'bout it, the more I started believin' him,” Daryl replied. “When did ya find out?”

“The first time Negan showed up with all of you,” you admitted. “Dwight took one of the tests from me before I could stop him. I'm sorry, I should've tried harder. You were already going through so much shit with the Saviours, and then he had to go put more shit on you because of me.”

Daryl pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Dun' blame yerself. Wha' do ya have to be sorry fer? Findin' out yer pregnant?”

“For allowing him to take the test and use it against you.”

“Dun' be sorry. S'okay,” he whispered into your hair, stroking your back softly. Once you had calmed down, Daryl allowed one of his hands to travel back down to your stomach.

“Yer really pregnant?” he asked with a slight laugh, rubbing your stomach affectionately.

You laughed in wonder and nodded. “Yeah. There's a tiny you in there.”

“Nah, they're gon' be a tiny ya. Sweet, kind and a badass, jus' like their mama,” Daryl countered, placing a kiss against your forehead. “Our baby. Our lil' peanut.”

“You really wanna do this? Are you ready to start your own family?” you questioned, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“With ya?” Daryl began, pulling you closer to him. “M'ready fer anythin'.”

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purinfelix · 4 months ago

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Hi! Never done this before but lets try: What about Gavi, who has spent most of his childhood sharing a room in la masia and now struggles to fall asleep without someone there vs a gf who was an only child and doesn't know how to sleep with someone in the room?

it's so sweet, knowing that you love me ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 - pablo gavi

pairing: gavi x reader w/c: 516

a/n: anon this was such a cute idea omf ... i hope i did it justice !! <333

"What?"

"I should get going soon," you repeated slowly, growing more confused by the similarly confused look on your boyfriend's face.

"Why would you go? It's so late, why don't you just stay the night?" he questioned, as if it was common sense despite you having never stayed over at his place before.

"Don't you only have one bedroom?"

"And?"

"So where would I sleep?"

"My bed?"

The two of you paused and the growing silence between you spoke volumes about your confusion, each of you trying your best to understand where the other one was coming from. Looking into Gavi's eyes, covered slightly by his furrowed eyebrows, part of his request started making sense to you. You remembered that he had grown up in the dorms of La Masia and so the style of sleeping you were used to, being solitary, must've seemed ridiculous - whereas you could say the same for his.

Still, you found yourself agreeing to his request for you to stay the night - partially because he raised a good point about how late it was and you couldn't find the energy to trek back home, but mostly because you were touched by how easily the idea of opening up his home to you came to him. You watched as he retrieved a spare pillow for you, squishing it next to his on the bed which, the more you looked at it, the less confident you became with his idea.

Laying down next to him, you tried your best to straighten your body out so as to avoid touching him at all, a task your limited space made more difficult. Despite having been together for months now, there was still a shyness and an intimacy to the situation that stopped you from being as touchy as you normally would - holding hands in the street was one thing, but here, in his bed, was a completely different situation.

That was, of course, until you felt your boyfriend's warm hands wrap around your waist and pull you towards him. Letting out a soft gasp at his actions, you felt your cheeks burn up.

"Mmf, sorry," he mumbled against the nape of your neck where he had buried his face, "I've just been wanting to sleep with you like this for so long."

"But you see me all the time, what difference does this make?"

"I've always found it easier to fall asleep with someone near, and I don't really want to be near anyone more than you."

The matter-of-fact tone your boyfriend spoke with, despite already being half-asleep, finally made it all click for you. You felt yourself break into a shy smile, feeling slightly stupid for how stiff you had been earlier. Soon, the rhythm of your boyfriend's soft breaths slowed - signalling that he had fallen asleep surprisingly early. You still smiled to yourself, his arms wrapped around you seemingly tighter than when he was awake. Personally, sleeping in the same bed as someone else had never been your ideal situation - but this was a compromise you were more than happy to have made.

#pablo gavi #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi fluff #gavi oneshot #gavi imagine #gavi fanfic #football #fc barcelona #fanfic #football fanfic #purinfelix #jet writes ★#jet answers ✧

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coeurify · 1 year ago

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ok but what do you think about making a sex tape with ellie 🧍‍♀️

an: this has been reworked over and over since this request came in in march… so enjoy! its very lovey dovey and sm plot sorry :3

warnings: 18+. filming. jackson!ellie. fingering and oral!r receiving. mostly lovey but some teasing and rough language :3 ellie is obsessed and lovesick and so is reader soooo they make a sex tape. unedited gimme time.

When Ellie first brought up the idea, you had recoiled into her old beat up couch, scoffing as she waved the old camcorder around, a shiteating grin on her face.

“I doubt that thing even works El,” you shrugged your shoulders under the blanket you had stolen off her bed. It wasn't unusual for you to hole up in her small homey garage while she was on patrol.. but what *was* odd was her little.. Souvenir from this particular trip.

“C’mon babe,” Ellie pouted, “Let me try on you..” she wiggled the little camcorder, slipping her hand into the attached grip, flipping open the small screen. Despite your complaints that there was no way it worked, Ellie just could never be wrong. Of course she knew you would fight back, and so she had made sure she fished some batteries too. Of course they came from Maria, the cost three days of stable duty.. But it was worth it for the immune woman, who ducked her nose down and watched the screen flicker to a slow start.

The quality was no better than that of what you could expect from a decades old camera, the film grainy and muffled, each corner covered by symbols Ellie didn’t really understand. But it was no roadblock in the trek of her wants. She smiled when your hands immediately came to slap over your face, voice serious behind your palms as you spoke, “put that down.”

Eventually however, you got a little used to Ellie’s newest fixation. The little hums she made were always a dead give away that she was filming you. During a video game tournament against Dina and Jesse, squished so closely to the two on the floor of the garage that you literally bruised the taller man during a particularly aggressive round of a fighting game. When you were trying your best to compete against your girlfriend’s art skills, tongue poking out the corner of your lips as you worked on a very detailed stick figure that dawned pointed down eyebrows, a large frown and red pencil hair. Even just when you were organizing Ellie’s closet for her, sorting through the tens of sweatshirts with a judging pout on your lips at the mess.

Each time you heard the distinctive sound of El’s attempt at holding back laughs, a small little choked up ‘hmm’ sound. You usually turned your head, quick to flip off your girlfriend-turned-filmmaker. But by the fifth time of catching her smiling behind the little object, you just let her. Whenever you could see her a little less tense, you took it.

Even if that meant starring in all of her little five second shitty clips. Her excuse always, “Just something to look at when I miss you.”

In some ways it made you feel weak legged, slightly lovesick by the thought of Ellie loving you so dearly she just had to steal little memories of you. Every small grin that broke onto freckled cheeks wherever she filmed coaxed you into the haze built up by her new hobby. You became so covered in adoration soon that you resorted to tiny only half mad eye roll when the click of the camera sounded.

Small clips turned into Ellie’s free hand wrapping around your bare waist as you looked in the mirror of her bathroom, the camcorder pressed near your cheek, the auburnette on the other side. You wiped the condensation from the glass, the room still slightly foggy from your shower. “You are not filming me out of the shower,” you huffed. Ellie didn’t answer, the familiar sounding hum stopped only when she pressed a kiss to the base of your neck, lips pulling up into a smile against the skin. “Won’t point too low..” she promised. “You just look so pretty..”

That time, the camera had been closed and discarded on a random bedside table as the two of you stumbled across her floor, giggling as Ellie cursed, stubbing her toe on the corner of the bed she tried to press you down into.

It continued like that, the limits of what you allowed Ellie to film seemed to blur further with every day.. Every curl of her fingers around the object that had become so central to this small haven of her home. Your own neck hot for reasons very different from embarrassment each time the filming light blinked a little too long. The line that you and Ellie had drawn in the sand of your mind was looking a lot less precise with every new memory saved into the device.

Even further along into the passing weeks, you had settled comfortably into yet another night spent at Ellie’s. Your own bedroom had remained untouched for nearly a week this time, bed spread likely just as cold as the air outside. But the garage was warm. The air inside thick as you pressed two fingers against your lips to keep a laugh from spilling out. Glasses of half empty wine, stolen from Tommy and Maria’s cupboard, balanced on the table that sat directly in front of the couch you were cuddled into.

The feeling of wine drunkenness always made you giggly, but your girlfriend parading around her small living space with her camcorder, well, that made you even more prone to bursts of laughs. She had gone from filming and rambling on about what wine you were drinking to zooming into your face, chuckling with breath that smelt like red wine. “See how pretty?” Ellie gaped to no one, stepping closer to you on the couch. The whole garage was painted a light orange from the setting sun outside, but it didn’t stop Ellie.

“El, you’re being a dork,” you chide, shaking your head as more compliments spilt from her. She shoos off the bitten remark with a sound that boarders on a coo, leaning over you as the lens of the camcorder sat close enough to pick up the smaller details of your face the grainy film usually could not.

“I’m just showin’ how perfect you are..” Ellie explains, a softer tone edging into her lungs as she presses her thumb to your cheek, drawing a new heat under the digit. “Perfect cheeks…” her finger traces over your jawline next, and then your chin. Each new landmark of your face that Ellie doted on swept closer and closer to your soft lips. You were no idiot, you saw how the green of her eyes fell to the fat, watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and then out again. You made no move to stop what came next.

That next move was your girlfriend’s finger following like a moth to a flame to the one spot that teetered on that blurry line again, thumb pressing softly around the curve of your lips.

“Perfect lips,” Ellie continued, eyes flicking back and forth from the camera screen to you. Soon the pad of her finger is right against your bottom lip, and the room seems to slow.

The both of you hold bated breaths as you mull over your options. But this mulling is no longer than a few seconds, feeling overwriting the more logical side of your brain with a gushy type of tightness in your chest.

Your lips part, eyes meeting the lense as you suck the tip of Ellie’s thumb into your mouth. Lips wrap around the soft skin, salty and cold, and Ellie has little to say other than a slow and breathy, “Fuck..”

Your tongue peaks out just for a moment, lavishing over the wet skin, but Ellie is quick to pull away, leaving your shining lips parted in confusion. The camera falls to her side as her free fingers wrap around your wrist. Just like last time, the little red light twists away from your face. Ellie’s toes step backwards from that oh so mysterious line you two made.

“You know what you do to me, hm?” Ellie questioned as she hauled you up by your arm, a sharp giggle following as she stomped to the bed. The camera is discarded on the table near her pillows as you are thrown back on it.

“No,” you tease, your next giggle cut off by a thump noise that was Ellie pushing you back against grey sheets, you make a sound that almost sounds like “oof” as you try to readjust. Ellie clambers on top of your squirming frame as another sputtered laugh escapes at the messy, and not very seductive, way you two found contact against the creaking mattress.

“Tell me,” you prompt, meeting Ellie’s narrowed green eyes. “Why should I? You’re laughin’ at me.”

Your eyes roll as Ellie’s lips fall into a pout that you want to kiss clean off. “Stop being a baby,” you mutter before letting your impulse win, your hands cupping the freckles cheeks of your girlfriend and pulling her down for a soft kiss. Her pouted lips quickly shape to your own, and you sigh in approval as the hand not holding herself up traces down to your waist.

“I’m not a baby,” your girlfriend complains when your lips part from each other, and you nearly pinch her cheeks from just how lovely you find the whiny drawl in her voice, instead you just shrug, biting back another half bubbled up laugh, “mhm, prove it.”

Ellie does just that. One tug on your hips has you flatter against the bed, one poke at your side has a squeal leaving your mouth. You see how Ellie’s lips quirk up, but before you can admire the sight, she kisses you again.

“So,” Ellie punctuates the word with a kiss, the sort that makes a loud and annoying smacking noise, before trailing her lips to your cheek. “Fuckin” Ellie’s lips find home on your jawline next, and act that has a simmering heat grow between your legs. “Perfect.” Ellie finishes the repeat of what her fingers had done earlier by nudging your head back, lips pressing softer kisses to the flesh of your neck.

Your eyes flicked to the side table, pupils finding the little camcorder as the auburn haired girl bit at your neck, your attention pulled away as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. “El,” you breathe out, a hand finding her messy hair, nails scraping at her scalp as she bit harsher at the column of your throat. You aren’t sure why her name had been your first thought to say after seeing the camcorder, swallowing as your fingers itched to reach toward the side table.

“Hm? Tell me,” Ellie taunts, words muffled as her next target becomes your collarbone. Your own words biting at you again as your eyebrows furrowed together, watching as your girlfriend’s fingertips find the edge of your shirt, pushing it up as your hand falls from her hair to help take it off.

You pull her back for another kiss before you can even think to answer her question, one you weren’t even sure you could explain. Ellie’s needy fingers come into contact with the fat of your tits, tweaking at the perked nipples, nails pressing in just a little too hard, earning a mewl directly against the spit slick kiss. As Ellie kissed you, you tried your best to focus on the feeling, and not how you were acutely aware of the camera beside you.

Her tongue swiped at your bottom lip, warm against your parting lips as she searched to deepen the kiss, messy sounds of half breaths and kissing all sounded through the small area, your hips rolling up as her knee slotted itself between your trembling thighs.

You can’t help but wonder what this may look like on camera, and as Ellie pulls back, you notice the green of her eyes had dimmed, pupils blown as the pretty eyelashes fanned lightly. The freckles splattered over the apples of her cheeks were particularly prominent tonight, and you suspected it had something to do with the blood that rushed there, rosy and all around causing that same lovesick feeling to creep up your weakened bones.

You wonder if she would look as pretty on that grainy screen too.

Before your mind can even form another thought, Ellie is pulling away from your lips, a small whine the response she received. You can’t complain for long as she moves down, wet lips trailing sloppy kisses to your soft stomach, planting the ember of a growing fire in your groin, causing your hand to flex. Your eyes are pulled by an invisible string to the side of you again, the black material of the camcorder your gaze’s target. Ellie grumbles in response, and a small pinch on your hip has you yelping.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me.”

“Ellie,” you try again, lip quivering nervously as she ushers you to lift your hips, tugging off the bottoms you wore. “Fuckkkk,” she drawls, lost in her own little world as a large hand presses your thighs open. “You see that?” she marvels, a finger pressing against the wet spot on your panties. When she presses, you can feel the fabric stick to you, nearing translucent as she teases, your lips hugging the now soaked panties. It has your hips stirring in their spot, the flame in your stomach burning your liquid feeling stomach. “Ellie,” you sigh again.

Finally her gaze looks up, “Yea?” she asks, her voice softening. You can see the flash of confusion, her hand falling from your thigh as she searched for any apprehension. “You ok?”

“I can’t—“ your voice comes out whinier than you would like to admit, harsh against your ears with a feeling of embarrassment. “Can’t say it,” you finish, eyes moving to the camera sitting on the small wooden table beside you for the umpteenth time.

Ellie follows your eyes, and when you look back to her, there’s a flash of surprise in the shade of green you loved so much. It was replaced quickly, her eyelids drooping as her chin tilted up. “Hm. Don’t know what you mean,” she shrugs, fingers going back to teasing your panty line.

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, the teasing tilt to it is a voice you had heard many times before, many times in this exact position. Ellie liked to make you say things, liked to watch you squirm. You were convinced at this point she got off on your embarrassment, and she probably wouldn’t even deny that.

“Gonna have to spell it out for me, babe,” Ellie added, dipping down to place soft kisses at your hip-bone, pink muscle licking over a mark there.

A low and annoyed sound escapes your throat, and your girlfriend chuckles against your flesh, one finger curling around the fabric of your panties, tugging it down a little ungracefully, your shaking thighs to thank for that.

“Barely even touched you yet and you’re shakin,” Ellie teases again, whispering softly, “Such a pretty pussy..” as the sight of your weepy folds meet her eyes. “This all for me, baby? Or somethin’ else on your mind?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, hoping to rid your mind of the film reel like thoughts of the camera pressed in Ellie’s hand as she did this. They played over and over behind the black of your eyes, and another frustrated sound fills the garage.

“Not gonna answer?” Ellie was quieter now, repositioning herself, parting your thighs even more. A finger ghosted over your dripping cunt, a hum following the action. “Can’t make you feel better if you don’t use your words, y’know?”

The warm air hit your folds as Ellie exposed you more, thighs burning from the stretch, from the tight grip of one of her hands, fingers digging into and squeezing the fatty flesh.

The blanket beneath your bare ass is no comfort as you move around, and Ellie’s nose bumps against the softness of your thigh. So close, so fucking close to giving exactly what you were searching for, so close to your aching center that your resolve cracks lightly, head tilted back and against the pillow.

“The camera,” you croak, your mouth dry as your lips part, refusing to look at the other girl.

“What about the camera? Look at me and tell me what you want.”

The crease between your eyebrows likely was gaining small droplets of sweat just from how hard you were attempting to avoid this entire fucking conversation, but Ellie kept pressing you further, and who were you to deny her?

“Wanna film this,” you eventually admit, head dipping down to meet her darkened eyes.

“Yea baby? Wanna see what a mess I can make you?” Ellie’s words start to blur together, the idea surely muddling any coherent thoughts together in her mind, licking her lips as she awaits your response.

“Fuck— mmph, yes El. Please.*”

Ellie’s lips curl into a smile that’s more wicked than loving, “Red button starts it, you can hold it.” She instructed, and you scramble to reach your arm out, grasping at the little hand strap connected to the camcorder.

“There you go babe,” she nods, “give it a go, let me see what you’ve got.”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes a moment for your thumb to hit the button, to see the soft little red light noting the start of the film.

The grainy screen doesn’t pick up on all the freckles adorning Ellie’s face. The ones that made you feel all gooey, that you wanted to kiss until her face was a pretty shade of red. But it did capture her parted lips, the expanse of your thighs, and your shaky grip tilted the camera down as Ellie’s head dipped between your thighs.

Her mouth latched to your achy cunt, tongue licking up the drops of arousal that covered your slit, pearling on the petal like lips that she spreads with her fingers.

Your arms almost immediately gave out.

Clearly, you were not as skilled in the art of film making as Ellie had been, the camera dropping almost completely to your tummy as Ellie sucked at your cunt. Her eyes flicked up, and she unlatched from the saccharine slick that pooled on her tongue.

“You keep that camera steady,” she muttered, thumb rubbing tiny, tight circles on your throbbing clit. “Or I stop, yea?”

You nod quickly, hips grinding into the slow and steady motion of her thumb, wet with your sticky . You would have agreed to anything she demanded of you right now anyway. Too needy, too desperate to feel her lips on you again.

“ ‘M counting on you to make a pretty movie for me.”

The sentence tapers off as she disappears to the space between your thighs again, and you nearly and truly sob as her nose bumps your clit, her tongue poking experimentally against your hole, feeling as it clenches against nothing.

You know your whimpers and quick little puffs of air are being picked up by the camera, but you’re too focused on keeping the lense directly focused on the auburn tendrils of hair, on where her face was covered by your thighs caging her cheeks in, keeping her in the place she most needed to be, drinking down every single single drop you gave her.

“Ellie,” you whine, toes curling when she presses away from your clit, two long fingers coming to part your folds, admiring the sticky sight.

“Shhh,” Ellie coos, eyes glancing up at the camera again, the burning sight of her fern colored gaze through the tiny screen has your stomach clenching even harsher, hands trembling lightly.

The air on your exposed center lasts no longer than a few seconds, Ellie’s head dipping down as the warm, wet feeling of a glob of her spit trails down your clit, finding your pulsing hole. Her tongue swipes it quickly after, suckling gently at the shiny bubbles. The sound that follows, the loud wet squelch of your wetness mixing with her spit is enough to make you want to cover the speaker of the camcorder, fingers gripping tightly at the little contraption. She focuses on licking at your sopping cunt, her head moving slightly, moaning against your folds.

“Oh—nnh—El!” you cry, your chin trembling in tandem with the hand you try desperately to keep still. Your hips rut up, and Ellie’s face moves up with you, an arm detaching from its place on your squishy thigh to instead wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer.

You can feel yourself closer, closer to that delicious peak, Ellie’s nose bumping your clit, tongue working mind numbing ministrations on you.

Then she pulls back.

“Fuckin made for me,” Ellie groans, taking a deep breath as she unlatched from your pussy, her fingers sweeping through your puffy lips. “Was fuckin’ made to let me taste you.” Her eyes flick to the camera, her tone louder than usual— a little less breathy. She wanted the microphone to hear.

You cry pathetically at the loss of her tongue, lip quivering.

“Tell me,” she demands, voice overpowering the slick noises of her now shiny fingers rubbing between your folds, the tips pausing at your pulsing hole, dipping only a little in, teasing. “Tell me this pretty pussy was made for me.”

And then Ellie is reaching forward, letting go of her grip on your hips to grab harshly at the camera, maneuvering it to show your trembling body, her fingers pressing open your lips, giving the camera a pretty close up of your soaked cunt. She croons at the sight, her fingers pressing together to land a short and sharp slap against the swollen lips. “S’pretty.”

“Ellie,” you choke, chest heaving up and down as the embarrassment creeps up, making that coil in your tummy even tighter.

“Tell me,” she says again, smoothly.

Desperate to have her fingers opening you up, to have her filling you and breaking that tightly wrapped tension in your groin, you break.

“I’m yours el. ‘m all yours, was made for you,” your voice is restrained, quiet as you chew at your lips, stirring in your spot as she continues the teasing.

“What else? Tell me more, baby,” she insists, one long finger sinking into you, hissing at the feeling of your cunt molding to her, perfect for her as you clench.

“A—ah!” your voice is a sweet little cry. You grind down into the feeling, searching for more. “It’s yours El,” you babble— louder now, head thrown back. Ellie captured the moment with a quick tilt up of the camera. “M-my pussy s’all yours.”

“Fuck,” Ellie breathes, her own, usually steady camera hand, wavering as you speak. She grants you with another finger as she thrusts harshly into you, a shriek pulled from your open mouth.

“So—s-so fucking perfect,” she grunts, curling her fingers gently, hitting that squishy spot in your walls that has you keening, eyes rolling back. “Love this pussy so much, shit—shit, love you so much.”

“Love you too El,” you blubber, your chin tilting down to stare directly at the camera for a second. That awkwardness, the fear from the early days of when she’d film you completely gone as you moan pathetically, eyes shiny with complete and utter adoration.

She only pistons her fingers into you harder, faster, relishing in how you moan, how your toes curl and your chin wobbles. You’re the prettiest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

The camera points down to where she’s thrusting into you, watching through the screen as you meet her thrusts, your hips moving against the grey sheets, your thighs squeezing her hand in between them as you sob out.

Ellie meets your eyes, stealing your attention from the camera she keeps focused on your squirming frame, pounding her fingers into your cunt. “Cum for me, you can do it baby, go on. Give me a pretty show.”

And you do. Your sweaty back lifts off the bed with a sharp sob as the cord in your tummy snaps, gushing around Ellie’s fingers, pulsing around her as she thrusts shallowly, riding you through it.

Your vision goes black for a second as you heave, hands shaking as you reach out for Ellie, fingers looking to curl around her warm skin.

You don’t even notice the off click of the camera, of how she lets it softly drop to the side as she climbs up your shaky form, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“So pretty,” Ellie hums, “Prettiest movie star ever,” she mumbled, and you pour your lips— getting another soft kiss as she continues to plant tiny loving pecks around your face.

“Never should’ve let you keep that camera,” you whisper gently, smiling right when she does against the corner of your mouth that she pecks at.

“Yea fuckin’ right, we just made the movie of the year babe.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff

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deantfwinchester · 5 months ago

Text

Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home.

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold.

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are.

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff.

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright.

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over.

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat.

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today.

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern.

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off.

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself.

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed.

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften.

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck.

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding.

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him.

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck.

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs.

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open.

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention.

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible.

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction.

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance.

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt.

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes.

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy.

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now.

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes.

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.”

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone.

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother.

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob.

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out.

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least.

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving.

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him.

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities.

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing.

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath.

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say.

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side.

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest.

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him.

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store.

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes.

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

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whirlybirbs · 1 year ago

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please god give me "[ CLING ]: having finally been reunited, the sender pulls the receiver into a tight, overwhelmingly relieved embrace, clinging to them and burying their face in their shoulder" with astarion and gale.

┊ astarion ancunín + f!tav!reader┊ CLING

His voice is a near shriek — full of irritation.

"What is wrong with you, hm?!"

"Astarion, I am not in the mood—"

"Oh, well pardon me, my dear lady," comes the snarl of a snarked jest as he follows hot on your trail, "Had I known you weren't in the mood, I would simply have kept my mouth shut and let you die!"

"I had it handled!" you fire back, throwing your hands in the starry, night air and very much ignoring the inquisitive looks from the rest of camp. Astarion does not let up, in fact he jogs to follow more closely than before — right on your boot heels.

"He had a knife to your throat!"

"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened!"

"God, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever met—"

You finally reach your tent and slam your pack down on your makeshift vanity. Inside, the stolen wares rattle amongst pinched gold and silver. A few scrolls, a few potions; enough to get you and your rag-tag team through the next few days on the road.

You'd embarked into the town at sundown, with Astarion by your side, to pull a few old tricks. You're not a stranger to the silver-tongued methods of a thief. A few plucked lute strings, a few batted eyes. Usually, it's quick work. But, tonight you'd met a bit of resistance behind the town's tavern.

At the edge of camp, it's darker. The moon is hung half-full in the sky, and you gather your matches lighter to ignite your trusty lamp. However, the moment you move to flick the ignition, there's a hand on yours.

"Will you listen to me?"

"I told you," you huff haughtily, "I'm not in the mood, Astarion—"

Suddenly, he slaps the pack of matches from your hands.

It hits the ground a few feet away.

You look up at him, brow wrinkled in shock and confusion.

"...Rude..."

His face is set in a firm frown. And then, suddenly, he's pulling you into an embrace that is as unpracticed as it is rough. Your arms are cramped to your sides as the vampire presses his face hard into the crook of your shoulder. You can feel him huff, and then soften slightly.

Your attitude melts away.

"Don't do that again," comes a quiet, desperate utterance. You swear it will cling to your throat forever more; the sound of his true intentions, "As much as I hate to admit it, you've grown on me."

Your eyes slip shut. "...I'm sorry."

He scoffs. His nose, cold and delicate, brushes the skin of your throat.

Astarion can feel the thrum of life beneath your skin there; a familiar feeling. His heart pangs in want. He knows your scent best — comforting. Home. Even if you aren't entirely aware of it.

...But, he'll keep that to himself for now.

And maybe forever.

┊ gale dekarios + tav!reader ┊ CLING

It's a long trek back to camp — and by morning, you've never been happier to smell the last embers of a fire that's burnt noon and night.

Morning rays, fresh from the dawn, spill over the horizon as you meander into the camp. There's dew on your boots and blood in your hair. The gash along your side has long since coagulated into a sticky, cold mess; your leathers are drenched in all sorts of gore. Not all your own. Most belonging to the three Gnolls who had attempted to take you along with your hunted prey for the camp's dinner.

You lost the boar, your favorite bow, and a good amount of pride in the scuffle.

The moment you cross the threshold of camp, you can taste the tang of magic in the air.

You know, immediately, that it's Gale.

Perhaps it's your own awareness of the Weave, or a particular tenderness for the Wizard himself, but you feel him before you see him.

And then, it's a crushing embrace.

His toiling is long forgotten the moment he lays eyes on you, in all your brutality, and he can't help but surge forward with enough momentum to nearly knock you both breathless.

"Where the hell have you been? Avernus?" he mutters, one hand moving to gently cradle the back of your head. His palm is warm, radiating already with a healing magic that alights the air with the smell of lavender.

"Met a bit of trouble fetching us dinner—"

"Karlach will have your head," Gale says, leaning back to eye you up and down as a warm sweep of light graces your edges. You feel it, like a touch white-hot against bare skin. Intimate. Caring. Different entirely from Shadowheart's healing entirely, "She has been out all night searching for you — Astarion, too."

"I'm fine," you mutter — pointedly keeping the fact you had been chased up a tree by the aforementioned Gnolls to yourself — hands falling to his waist, "And I'm ruining your robes."

"Hush."

The magic pulses hotly, and you slip your eyes shut at the intrusion. His sternness comes robed in warmth. A safe sort of thing.

Gale pulls away only long enough to plant a kiss on your brow.

AS ALWAYS: prompts are here, the ask box is here.

#astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion imagine #gales dekarios imagine #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale x tav #astarion x tav #uber rare birbs formatted post #like #a super shiny pokemon card #baldurs gate imagine

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 14 days ago

Text

The Beast and The Sweetest Cherry

Part One

Warnings: SMUT, Virgin!OC, Period Drama, Angst, Dark, Beauty and The Beast, Arranged Marriage.

Summary: Just outside a small town up near a chilly mountain range, lies a large black manor, home to a cruel Lord with a dark secret. The town lives with a strict set of rules that keeps them safe, and avoid the bad tempered Lord's wrath as much as they can. One day, a young girl offers herself up to the cruel Lord leading to passionate disarray when the virgin meets the Beast.

The Beast had promised wealth to restore her father’s fortunes and more. They assured her that the Beast wouldn’t kill her.

“No,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. She hadn’t heard the Beast arrive.

He stood back, tall and broad shouldered as her father had said, watching from the depths of his cloak. The winter wind caught the black folds, whipping them tight against his massive body, but never stirred around his face. Venus couldn’t make out his features, though she thought perhaps she caught the gleam of a white tooth. And was that the shadow of a muzzle?

She shuddered, looking away quickly.

“No, Venus,” the Beast said, “I will never take you by force. I will only take you when you ask me to. That one choice, at least, will always be yours.”

Venus stirred uneasily inside the confines of her gown. Something about his words seemed…unwholesome somehow. She could not see him clearly, and she was under the impression that he was hideous. Too hideous to reveal himself. Venus rubbed her arm nervously beneath her sheer and very revealing white night gown. Her chocolate ringlets cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like a wild flower. It had been a full day since they exchanged vows. Venus refused to leave the room. It wasn’t her official room, The Beast was still preparing that one.

She’d been nervous indeed. This would be their first night together. Venus was too afraid to face him days prior after their marriage.

“Am I ever to see you?” Venus asked with a timid voice.

The sound of his deep breath made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“Do you wish to?”

Venus glanced back at his black silhouette with fearful eyes before quickly looking away again.

“It might be easier for me…to get accustomed to you, Sir.”

“You see, Venus, that’s one thing I’ll have to control. These things are best done in stages. I intend to win you over, my Venus, but we’ll take it slow…”

Venus tried to calm the tremble of her body.

“I–I don’t see how that’s possible, Sir.”

A dark, menacing chuckle filled the room. Venous shut her eyes, the sound of her breathing rising.

“You’re innocent, Venus,” The Beast said, his voice nearly a growl, “And you have not discovered how I can make you feel.”

“I have. You make me feel fear. And revulsion.” Venus trekked over to the grand window, her doe eyes watching the raging snow storm outside, “Despair, perhaps.”

“None of those are real, Venus”

She forced herself to look at him. “I must tell you, I don’t see how I can ever be your wife in truth. I cannot imagine asking you to—”

“To what? take your maidenhead? To rend you with my dick so that you scream in agonized pleasure?”

The shock drained Venus’ body of the ability to move. Even as the image somehow stirred her.

“Sir—Beast, you cannot say such things to me.” Venus retorted with a shaky voice.

The bite of his words and that monstrous voice had her shivering as if she were standing in the snow nearing frostbite.

“It seems, my bride, that we must stretch your imagination as well. The only thing I may not do is take you by force. Everything else is open to me.” He settled back in a very masculine satisfaction. “If you intend to keep the bargain that saved your father’s life, that is.”

Venus bit her lip. Her father had wept even as he handed her into the Beast’s carriage. Had he realized? Her virginity wouldn’t matter at the end of the week if she was dead. She slowly walked back to the bed and turned her back to him. Her eyes fell solemnly to her lap, and as he drew closer, she couldn’t control her body from shaking with terror.

“Venus.” The Beast leaned forward. She shrank back, but he only laid a gloved hand over hers, “I swear I will not injure you. Your beauty is precious to me. I would not see it marred in any way. I want you to feel safe with me, despite what they speak of me beyond these walls. I will not hurt you. I would never…”

She restlessly moved her hands out from under the black leather of his glove. A mistake, since his hand fell to her knee instead, a heavy weight through the thin cloth. The weight on her small limb awakened something she’d never felt.

“I will wish to see it, however,” the Beast said, gravel in his voice.

Venus’ heart stuttered. “See it?”

“You, in your naked glory. In exchange, I will not touch you just yet.” He leaned back again. “I mention it now so that you might mull the idea over.”

Venus drew in a breath, “I do not think I shall become peaceful with the idea in that space of time.”

“You mistake me, my bride. Peaceful is not how I want you.”

If he’d intended her to think about it, to imagine herself naked and vulnerable in front of his black-cloaked figure, then he succeeded.

“I want you to learn your body…and I intend on guiding you through it…I want you ruined. I want you overcome with desire so intense you can’t form proper sentences…”

The Beast held out his hand towards her and Venus placed her dainty hand in the middle of his massive palm. His thick, dangerous fingers curled around her hand and with the slightest tug, Venus was on her feet and staring up at The Creature that stood at 6’7 with a massive built.

He didn’t drag her along, but neither did the Beast release her hand. The grand house blurred around her as she frantically tried to think of a way out.

“I’m dizzy, Sir…”

“Excellent,” he purred.

“Truly, Husband.” Venus stopped, placed a trembling finger to her temple, and stared steadfastly at the black cloaked chest before her. “I have a pain in my head and—”

“VENUS.”

His tone slammed through her. All stern disapproval and warning.

“Yes?” She barely got the word out.

“You may address me as ‘my lord’, ‘Sir’, or ‘Beast.’ If you call me ‘Husband’ again, I will assume you are ready for me to assume my full husbandly rights. Understood?”

“Yes. My lord.”

“Then let us proceed.”

Venus once again struggled to keep pace with his long strides, until the dark hallway opened into the most glorious atrium.

Woes temporarily forgotten, Venus gazed in wonder at the glass walls and ceiling sparkling in the evening. Moonlight flooded the room from three sides and roses, blood-red roses, filled every corner. Here and there, graceful sculptures peeked between the blooms.

Velvet crimson spills, mounds and waterfalls, the roses tumbled out of urns and thrust up from beds built into the floor. The roses Father had brought surely came from these.

Venus realized she stood alone in the middle of the floor. The Beast had settled into a grand chair, massive as a throne, studded with iron rings in various places. It was perfectly situated so that he might survey the room. And everything in it.

“As you can see, I enjoy beauty. Now, it’s time to enjoy yours,” The Beast relaxed into the chair and his enormous and powerful thighs spread wide, “Venus, I want you to remove that thin gown and place it on that table, right there, “He waved a languid hand towards a table situated against the wall, “You will find a pair of heels there…slip them on.”

Venus eased herself towards the table with timid movement. She stopped before the table and willed herself to calm down. The voice in her head told her to calm down and do as he commanded.

“Venus, the longer you take, the greater the punishment.”

“P–punishment? I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me—”

“And I won’t. Not all punishment warrants violence, Venus,” The Beast leaned forward in the chair, “Have you ever heard of inflicting pain for pleasure? A spanking for instance?”

Venus shuddered.

“Were I you”—he settled back in the chair—“I wouldn’t give away opportunities for punishment. But that’s entirely your choice. You’ve earned one punishment for your hesitation. Proceed with my instructions.”

With trembling fingers, Venus reached up to pull the straps of her thin gown past her shoulders, her back facing him. The Beast, however, did not seem inclined to urge her to move more quickly. His head once again propped on his fist, he watched her from the shadows of his hood.

Venus felt the fabric pool around her feet. She stroked her arm nervously, too afraid to turn around. The Beast, however, made a sound deep within his chest that made her whimper. She startled herself. Venus ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the formal coils her sisters had twisted in.

“Turn.”

Turn? Venus’ heart skipped a beat.

“Are you hesitating, Venus?”

“I’m…nervous…”

“You need not be…it’s just you and I…now turn.”

His rasp spurred her.

The Beast heaved himself out of the throne and moved toward her. Venus closed her eyes, unable to bear it. He stopped behind her, his presence radiating a heat so intense. She could hear rustling, and then the sound of his gloves hitting the table. Venus’ eyes flicked to the large gloves and then down at her bare feet. The sound of fabric moving gained her attention. She caught a glimpse of his yellow eyes and it rendered her speechless. He picked up the heels and handed them to her from behind.

“Take them. Slip them on. And turn.”

From his tone, she sensed his frustration at her disobedience. Venus accepted the heels; black patent leather pumps, and went to work slipping them on. She stood a few inches taller, but still nothing compared to how tall The Beast is. He returned to his seat and the distance between them gave Venus enough courage to continue. Venus began to turn, her finger twiddling bashfully, when she fully faced him. Her doe eyes sought him out before glancing down at her heeled feet.

She stood there forever it seemed. Frozen while he just stared at her. When he finally spoke, she thought she might whither away.

“Lift your head. You look at me, Venus.”

She stared at him with a flutter of her lashes. Her breath shuttered through her and her heart beat so fast against her chest cavity.

“Come to me…”

Her heels against the floor was so loud it almost drowned out her breathing. To stand before him was a battle. She fought hard to look at him and when his clawed finger ghosted over her exposed skin on her hip she couldn’t contain herself. She moaned. She was exposed and vulnerable to this Beast and his touch made her moan. Was her body betraying her. Blood pulsed through her, pounding in her breasts and pooling down to her groin.

“Mmm…”

He could sense her arousal.

Shoulders back. Your breasts are gorgeous, Venus—so full and round. Thrust them forward. Place your hands behind your back…just like that…”

Venus was aware of her thick nipples hardening beneath his gaze. A tingle crept over her skin and her thighs clenched.

“…I love your nipples. Nice and big. I’m impatient to try some tricks to keep them stiff. By the time I’m done, you’ll be able to do nothing but think of how your nipples feel.”

Venus trembled violently, hot tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

“Why do you weep? Turn in a slow circle.”

She complied but didn’t answer the question.

“Venus, I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“You’re so cruel,” she cried, “treating me like this.”

“All beasts are cruel. It is my nature. And for now I merely admire. Wouldn’t any bridegroom expect to see you so?”

His haunting eyes glided over her body and when it reached her bushy lower lips, a tongue so long slithered out of his mouth and sharp teeth gleamed like a predator to its prey.

“Fuck…you are tempting me, Venus…that body on you…mmm…fucking beautiful…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words.

“Turn…bend…”

Venus looked back at him over her shoulder as her back arched forward, bringing her ass within his line of vision. The deep groan of satisfaction that spilled from his lips made her contain herself own sounds of desire. How quickly this Beast could make her feel such dirty thoughts…

“I can’t wait to have you. And I know you feel the same. No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise…”

Venus remained silent.

“As for your punishment, I hadn’t anticipated that you would need correction so soon. But I think it’s best for you to learn quickly, don’t you?”

“I…I don’t want to be punished.”

“You don’t have a say in the matter…I’m your Lord…you do as I say…hear me?”

Venus’ lower lip trembled.

“Sir, please…I don’t want it.” Venus pleaded.

“Ah, but I wish it. And I think you’ll find it’s good for you. You’ve been petted and spoiled. While I intend to pet you, my sweet, you’ll find that I’m most interested in your character. You don’t wish to deny me my few pleasures?”

“No, my lord.”

“I shall decide for you, then. It shall be tonight. You may lower your hands and find your chambers. Return down the hallway and follow the light that guides you.”

Venus didn’t waste time scurrying off and out of sight.

——

Her chambers were beyond grand. Enormous faceted windows looked out over the gardens. Though ringed round by the dense and grasping forest, the grounds looked meticulously manicured, gracefully proportioned. Beautiful. No wonder Father had thought it a sanctuary.

Venus had found the rooms by following a light, indeed. A little will-o’-the-wisp had popped out of the woodwork in the hallway. She followed its pink bobbing path, soothing herself by pulling her hair over her breasts to shield them and holding her hands over the place between her legs. She didn’t dare remove the shoes, however, until she reached her room.

There was no promised gown.

Instead Venus found a short, silk robe lying across the foot of the immense four-poster bed. The fine white silk was so translucent that it hid nothing. After putting it on anyway, since it was meagerly better than being completely nude, she glimpsed herself in the full-length mirror. Her black hair tumbled in coils. Her eyes looked huge in her face, the dark centers edging out the pure hazel. Venus could see her nipples pressing taut against the silk and the deep V at the juncture of her thighs. This is what the Beast had seen.

He’d seen her this way. Venus stroked her hips as she turned every which way, admiring her hourglass shape. The time alone in that room until The Beast called for her gave her a moment to accept that she’d had some attraction towards him. Although marrying a monster hiding deep within enchanted woods wasn’t on her agenda, she wasn’t completely put–off by it. He hadn’t killed her. He actually wanted her. Truly wanted her. And she’d never experienced that.

The innocent girl who’d dressed for her wedding on that haunting morning had disappeared. This girl looked ravished already. In a way, she supposed she had been.

And this was just the beginning.

Venus explored her new room and marveled at the extraordinary detail and how extravagant it was. The wardrobe was filled with all sorts of clothes and shoes and there was a vanity covered with perfumes, oils, jewelry, and makeup. Everything she ever needed. A soft patter at her door made her jump back.

“Miss? Your Lord would like for you to freshen before returning to him.”

It was one of the servants.

“Thank you. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Venus hurried towards her own bathroom, finding the tub already filled. She knew that castle held a magical force. Venus pinned her curls above her head and used a lavender scented soap. She washed away whatever she could, telling herself to relax and embrace her new life as a wife. Her thoughts drifted to sex with him. The sponge against her brown skin paused, the soap suds gliding.

She knew he had to be big down there. How would he feel inside of her. Spreading her. Bottoming out in her…

“Oh, goodness,” Venus placed a hand to her chest.

So much for being brave.

She was scared out of her mind. She wasted time staring at the tap dripping, the water beneath her growing cold. Venus lifted from the bath and grabbed a towel, securing it around her before entering her room. She went to work slathering fragrant lotion on her smooth skin and after letting her hair down, she fluffed it out and turned her gaze onto the silk robe he’d left for her.

No delaying, then, unless she wanted to sit in the dark. And Venus felt sure she didn’t want the Beast to come looking for her.

Suddenly, an invisible force began moving about the room, like a ghost. Venus gasped, eyes wide with fear, the doors to her wardrobe opening and after a moment, fresh stockings and a pair of ribbon garters. Not the ones she’d worn that morning before her wedding—these were sheer red and softer than rain. The crimson ribbons matched the boned scarlet satin corset. Venus could don the stockings herself, but she was dubious about the corset. When she slipped it on, though, invisible fingers tugged the laces into place.

Tightly.

Venus ended up grasping the edge of the tall table with her room to brace herself. When they released her, she saw herself in the full-length mirror, the thatch of glossy dark hair where her thighs met framed by the red stockings. The scarlet corset that fitted down over her hips, cinched her waist tightly and rising to a shelf under her breasts, cupping them as if they were some sort of pastry, her nipples nearly as hard as marble

She looked away. Looked for the gown. Only the red heels awaited, mysteriously transported from the other room.

“He promised me a gown,” Venus muttered to herself. “Perhaps it’s in the other room.”

But when she started toward the bedchamber, the dressing-room door flew closed, even as a chair in front of a vanity mirror slid out invitingly. The shoes slid in front of her. She had to get her nerves in check. She allowed the invisible maids to doll her up further and when they stopped, Venus admired the work they’d done and she gawked at her appearance. She looked like a vixen waiting to get fucked.

Oh goodness.

The pink light from before appeared before her eyes, Venus realizing that the light is what helped her get prepared. She tilted her head at it. How interesting.

He was waiting. She needed to hurry. Before she could leave, a long, flowing red gown with tight gloves attached levitated towards her. Venus gave the pink glow one final look before placing the red gown around her body and leaving the room.

——

Two timid knocks and his booming voice commanded her to enter. Venus crossed the threshold into what looked like a den. The Beast awaited her in his parlor. He stood before a roaring fire, wearing a black satin cloak, the folds of the hood, as always, deeply shadowing his face.

“Venus, you look lovely tonight. How fare you? Are your chambers suitable?”

A bit taken aback by his solicitous tone, Venus paused. “My chambers are more than suitable. I… Thank you for thinking of my wishes.”

The Beast inclined his head. “Anything you wish for, just ask.”

Venus held up her brocade-confined hands. “I’d like a proper gown.”

He chuckled. “In this, you will indulge me. That gown suits my purposes.”

“It will make it most difficult for me to comply, my lord.”

“I shall be delighted to assist you. Shall we? Unless you’d prefer a glass of wine before we go to bed?”

She shook her head and slipped her muffled hand through his arm.

“The gown suits you.”

Venus felt sure he studied her breasts. She glanced down and saw what she had thought a modest drape of satin now rode low over her pushed-up breasts. The cloth barely clung to her nipples, which stood out, turgid and sensitive.

“Come, don’t be afraid. We will only do as you wish tonight. But know this…” The Beast tilted her chin up at him, “You will be begging for more of me.”

Venus swallowed spit. The Beast guided her past the parlor and into a magnificent room. The room she would be sharing with him. The room she would be curled up in his arms. Having sex with him…kissing him…

The Beast picked Venus up bridal–style, and sat her on the bed. She looked up at him, watching with unwavering eyes as he removed his cloak. Her eyes fell upon a rather handsome face. Although he was a Beast, it was undeniable how attractive he is. She had never seen paintings of him in his human form, but she knew in her mind that he was a sight to behold.

“I want you to turn onto your stomach…”

Venus’ gaze dropped down to the beast removing a belt from his waist. He still had the body of a man covered in fur. His large hands moved fluently and Venus was stuck in a trance.

“Venus…what did I just say?”

She turned, the image of his features etched into her brain.

The bed dipped and his imposing frame settled behind her on his knees. He lifted her into an arched position, Venus gasping. His fingers raised the fabric of the gown over her waist, exposing her naked ass and pussy from behind. Venus felt heat creeping over her skin. He growled like the wild beast he is with curved horns, sharp teeth, and vicious eyes. But his lips…so plump…and his tongue so long…

Whack!

“My Lord!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Venus tried to stop him from spanking her but he pinned her wrists behind her back tightly with his free hand.

“Keep still and take this punishment, Venus. I have to teach you now…before I give you pleasure,” he popped her on the ass again, “Don’t anger me, baby…”

Venus’ eyes brimmed with tears. She begged and pleaded for him to stop.

“Please, please, Sir, I won’t ever disobey you again! I promise! I’ll be a good wife! I’ll listen!”

The Beast stopped. The sting of his strong hand remained and it burned so good that her clit pulsated. She was turned on and so deeply aroused. Who knew that spanking would make her feel this way? But she wasn’t prepared for the pain of it. It stung tremendously.

“I am happy that you see reason, Venus. Although I enjoyed the feel of this hefty ass against my palm…you’ve learned your lesson…for now…”

He rubbed her skin with tentative strokes. Venus’ eyes rolled shut from the soft grazing. The Beast chuckled at the dazed look on her beautiful face.

“You look so gorgeous like this, Venus…uninhibited…aroused…I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself. Tell me how you’re feeling…be honest with me…I won’t bite…”

Venus locked her glossy lips.

“I…I like it.” She admitted.

“Mmm…I’m very glad to hear that…”

His lips peppered kisses to her ass and Venous let out an angelic moan.

“My Venus…I crave you badly…so fucking much…”

The Beast breathed in her scent from behind. Venus shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Talk to me, love…tell me what you would like from me tonight…”

Venus knew that it would take time to warm her up. She was too afraid to go all the way tonight, but she did want to experience pleasure. She want The Beast to give her a taste of what it’s like to cum on his tongue. The images replaying in her mind of his long tongue made her wonder what it would be like to feel it between her thighs.

“Venus?”

“I’m sorry, Sir…I…I want you to make me cum…with your tongue….”

She spoke those words so softly, but The Beast caught on to every word. The girth of his enormous dick weakened the seam of his pants. He could faintly hear it rip. She was smart to request cunnilingus. The Beast would need a full day to break her in and Venus would need a full day to recover. They had time. And he would try to be patient, even though the monster within him wanted to break free.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #spooky szn

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orphicdreamers-wp · 10 months ago

Text

When You Know You Know — Quinn Hughes

Summary; In which you, Quinn and your loved ones recount the early days of your relationship

Content Warning: wedding ceremony inaccuracies, fluff

You laughed into your palms as Jack took the microphone and grinned sheepishly, “Hey guys! I’m Jack, the cooler of Quinn’s brothers.” You turned to your husband, “How bad are we expecting this to turn out?” Quinn laughed, “Almost as bad as Trevor standing up after the minister said ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ and saying ‘don’t nobody say nothing’.” Jack grinned as you turned to face you and his brother, “I have one text from a Quinn Hughes, dated December 9th 2018. Jack no joke, I just met my wife. She’s perfect.”

Jack turned to face your wedding guests, “It should be noted that the first two weeks of December that year there was a horrendous snow storm in Vancouver so I initially didn’t believe him. Until he FaceTimed me the next day trekking through the snow holding a bouquet of lavenders that was bigger than his head, which is ideally a huge thing of flowers. He told me he was going to meet a girl for dinner. He called me again the next day, this time he was demanding to speak to our mom to learn how to make pasta as he was having someone over for dinner.”

Jack’s story earned laughs from the guests. Jack smiled at you and Quinn as he continued, “This continued through the remainder of December and the majority of January. It was nearing a month he’d been needing dating advice. So he called me once again trekking through the snow, but that time he wasn’t alone.” Jack turned to face you with a smile, “I was complaining about whatever stupid crap a 17 year old boy would. And then I saw Quinn get pelted in the face with a snowball. Then I heard Y/N squeal as she and Quinn ran through the snow covered streets of Vancouver throwing snowballs at each other and giggling.”

You laughed softly as you melted into your husbands side into a warm embrace, “I quickly learned that Y/N was perfect for my brother which was unexpected because Y/N is classy, kind and beautiful and Quinn is not. But after meeting her I have never had to question or wonder if my brother made the right choice. Because from the moment I met her, Y/N has shown nothing but grace, love and support for not just Quinn but my entire family. I could not be more proud to say, welcome to the family sis.” Your eyes welled with tears as you stood to go hug Jack, “I always wanted a little brother to annoy.” Jack smiled as he hugged you, “I always wanted a sister.”

You returned to your seat next to your husband as your best friend, Gracie stood up with the microphone, “I hold here a hot pink notebook sheet of paper dated April 13th 2006, it reads ‘GG I have a secret. I have to tell someone so your my friend now that I told you. Mrs Tkachuck’s son is cute. He is always skating at recess. I think he has really nice hair, maybe my husband will too. Anyways I got peanut butter sandwiches for lunch what did you get?’ This was the first note I ever received.”

You covered your face with your hands as you heard your husband whisper, “Please tell me it wasn’t Brady.” You laughed as Gracie continued, “The boy in the note did have really nice hair. Matthew Tkachuck everyone. That note would be seen as two 7 year old girls agreeing that a 9 year old was cute and bonding over lunch. But for me that singular note written in real glitter pen by the 7 year old who had no friends because she didn’t let anyone say anything mean to her. You, Y/N changed my life at just 7 years old.”

Quinn squeezed your hand reassuringly as you blinked back soft tears as Gracie continued, “You wouldn’t know this, because I never told you. But on Friendsgiving in 2018, when I pulled the longer side of the wishbone. I wished for you to find someone who would alter your life the way you altered mine. And then 13 days later I got a voicemail from you at 3 am. You had claimed you found the love of your life and his name was win. I unanimously decided that his name probably wasn’t actually win but more likely Quinn.”

You felt your gaze soften as Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple as your best friend finished her speech, “To my beautiful, perfect, amazing and wonderful best friend. To the rest of your life with a guy who treks through the snow a day after meeting you. PS your husband did end up having good hair.” You and Quinn erupted into soft giggles as you looked at each other. You smiled up at Quinn, “I so would have written love notes to you in teal glitter pens.” Quinn laughed, “I would trek through a million snowstorms to bring you flowers.”

You melted into a kiss as your mother in law took the stage, “My biggest baby. In your entire life I have only seen you love three things. Your family, hockey and the beautiful woman that is sitting next to you. And none of those things are in order. From the moment I met Y/N it was clear to me that you loved her more than anything else in the world. It’s in the eyes. You, Quinn Hughes have very telling eyes. I could tell by your eyes when you pushed Jack face first down a slide when you were 5 and he was 3. I knew from the look in your eyes the first time you snuck out. And I knew when I saw your eyes light up when Y/N offered to take Jack and Luke to hockey practice so me and your father could have a break.”

Ellen continued as she smiled at you, “I knew that you were long gone, there was no coming back. You were head over heels for her and honestly I think I was a little bit as well. For as long as I remember you and your brothers never liked each others friends or associates. Don’t get me started on girlfriends. But Jack and Luke came home and would not shut up about how much they liked Y/N. I knew then that she was perfect for you and she fit like a missing puzzle piece of our family. So it didn’t come as a shock to me when you called me less than a year later asking me to help you pick out engagement rings.”

Your jaw dropped, you hadn’t known that Quinn had thought about marrying you so quickly. Ellen smiled at you and her eldest son, “To my beautiful son and his even more beautiful wife. Watching you two navigate life together has been one of the most gracious gifts I’ve ever received.” You smiled warmly at your mother in law as you rested your head on your husbands shoulder, “So I’m picking up on the fact that apparently everyone around us including us knew from the beginning of our relationship that we’d end up here. Is it just me?” Quinn kissed your cheek, “Nope, definitely not just you.”

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #vancouver #vancouver cancuks #vancover canucks #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #Quinn Hughes fics #wedding

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kiribakuswife · 1 month ago

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In Need of a Hero

Kirishima x Reader

Kinktober day 2

You have become the stereotype. It was honestly a mistake, your heat wasn’t supposed to start for a few days, and you were on the way to get suppressants, honestly. Work had been insane lately and by the time you got off the drug store near you was closed. You had decided the best thing to do was make the long trek across town to the 24 hour store. The last thing you expected, let alone happen, was getting hit hard with your heat in the middle of your walk home.

Your skin instantly felt hot, your brain beginning to fog over. You only had 20 minutes left, picking up your speed as your breathing began to grow more labored. You would make it home if it killed you. Thankfully, the streets were fairly empty, the moon high in the sky as the last of the last remaining drunken bar patrons stumbled home. You ripped open the bag as you walked, popping one of the pills that wouldn’t do anything at least until tomorrow afternoon, pulling your hood up and tucking in as an attempt to block the scent you were sure you were giving off at this moment. 15 more minutes that was all you needed and you would be safe in your own bed.

Your head was too hazy though, unable to smell the towering alpha that stumbled out of the alley before you. He stunk, his scent a terrible mix of musk and whiskey that made your nose curl as your omega shrank back in fear.

“Has no one ever told you not to walk alone?” He snarled, stepping before you, blocking your path.

“Excuse me.” Your voice was pathetic, and as soon as you heard it you couldn’t blame his laugh that cut through the silent night.

“Oh you're not going anywhere!” He laughed, roughly grabbing your arm and beginning to drag you back to the dark alleyway. “I could smell you a mile away, little omega. Let me show you what a real alpha can do.” He spoke in your ear, sending chills down your spine as you tried to pull away.

“Let me go!” You tried to scream, but he just kept dragging your fighting form. For how tall he was, he was thankfully pretty scrawny, allowing you to put up at least a little bit of a fight, but he seemed determined, unwilling to release you.

“(y/n)?” You heard a familiar voice call out, sounding distant, but not too far. Your eyes widened in realization. You had met only a few times, he was friends with one of your friend’s boyfriend. Definitely not close by any means, but he was a Pro.

“Kiri-!” Your shout was cut off by the hand of the disgusting man covering your mouth. You bit down on his hand hard, the taste of dirt and blood and something else you filling your mouth.

“You bitch!” He yelled back, elbowing you hard in the chest as he jerked his hand away. “You’ll pay for that!” As you tried to spit the foul taste from your mouth he grabbed you rougher this time, pinning your arms to your side.

“Hey!” You heard another voice shout, head spinning to find the pro hero Red Riot in all his glory, running towards you both. “Release her at once!” He wasn’t in his hero costume, instead in a casual pair of sweats and a tight black t-shirt, dropping a bag of take out as he got closer. His smell hit you at once making your knees weak as much as that was so unhelpful in your current situation. The strong smell of pine and a hit of rain filled your lungs as he reached you. The man released you instantly, hands up as you fell to the ground.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean anything by it, really! You can smell her! I was just trying to help.” He rambled, his footsteps stumbling as the hero stepped closer around you.

“Bullshit man, not cool.” Was all he said before a thud could be heard, turning to see the man fall to the ground as Kirishima made his way back to you, dragging the man behind him. “Are you okay?” He looked like he barely broke a sweat while the other man had a trickle of blood beginning to appear on his head.

“I think so.” You squeaked, looking up at him. His red hair that was usually styled was instead down, a few loose strands falling in his face as he tilted his head at you, trying to read you. You could tell the moment he caught your scent, his nose scrunching up briefly as he took a deep breath and shook his head. You had thought he was cute before all this, avoiding him out of nerves at your friends' dinner parties, but now? Your mind flashed truly embarrassing thoughts of him as you avoided his gaze. If you were feeling warm before, you were absolutely burning now.

“Let me call someone to get this loser. I’ll walk you home.” He nodded to himself, dragging the still limp man over to a wall of the building, already on the phone as he explained the situation to someone. He continued to talk as he walked, grabbing his food and your own bag. You couldn’t look away from him, no matter how much watching his taut form was making you squirm with need.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Nothing hurts?” His voice broke you fr

om your trance as he approached, causing your cheeks to heat. Hopefully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see, the street light right above you dashing your hopes. At his question though, the adrenaline wearing off, your chest began to hurt where his elbow had caught you.

“My chest…” You mumbled, trying to look anywhere but him, pulling your hoodie tight around you.

“Do you want to check? How bad?” He asked, coming closer, causing you to gasp as his scent hit you full force again. You must have reeked with the scent of your heat by now, but he acted as if there was nothing wrong.

“No! I’m okay!” You basically shouted, putting out a hand as if you could block him from any closer. He only chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he sat before you.

“Todoroki should be here soon then we can go.” He said instead, “Mind if I eat? I’m starving.” He laughed with a huge hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Of course.” You whispered, meeting his eyes before quickly looking away. Maybe it was part of their hero training, to have some sort of immunity against the smell, looking unbothered as he dug into his sandwich.

“Thank you…” You mumbled as he ate, earning a smile and a thumbs up in response.

“All in a day's work!” He replied. The air felt heavy as he ate, but it was like he didn’t notice anything, only making you squirm more, chewing on your thumb as you waited. Like he had said, Todoroki arrived soon, Kirishima getting up to meet him halfway as he moved toward you. They spoke quietly as they approached the still unconscious man. You waved halfhearted to Todoroki as he looked at you, heaving the villain on his shoulder. His eyes flashed briefly as they met yours, no doubt catching your scent before he turned abruptly, hurrying away.

“Ready?” Kirishima asked, turning back towards you with a smile on his face, like this was the most normal night he had all week. You nodded meekly as you tried to stand, but you legs betrayed you, still far too shakey. Before you hit the ground though, his hand gripped your arm to steady you, right where the villan had held you, causing a confusing mix of a moan and a groan to escape you, your omega beyond pleased to finally have his hands on you.

At your sound his hand jerked away, closing his eyes tight for a moment, as if he stopped breathing before letting out a sigh, moving to grip your elbow instead. “Let’s get you home.” Was all he said, letting you lead the way.

The silence felt thick as you walked, and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction every few minutes. His jaw was tight, but besides that he looked so normal, so natural. It made that stupid voice inside your head preen. He had to the most respectful man in the world to completely ignore at this moment, and that just made you want him more, need him more.

“Kirishima?” You asked finally, earning a hmm in response. “Thank you really, I’m sure this must suck for you too.” You tried to make a joke, an uncomfortable too forceful laugh bubbling up.

“Eijiro, you can call me that I mean,” He said, joining in on your weird laughter. “I think we’ve crossed that line.”

“Eijiro then, thank you.” Your laughter was becoming more real as you gave into the absurdity of the situation. He hmmed in response as you scrambled to explain yourself “Really I didn’t plan this! I know some omegas do to…well you know, but these are my suppressants!” You held up the bag as proof and he just rolled his eyes playfully.

“It’s fine (y/n). I’m happy to help!” That made you shiver. You were close to home now, and the thought of him leaving was making you feel incredibly anxious, like something bad would happen if he wasn’t with you. Maybe you could ask him to stay? Just until you were asleep? He could sit in the living room and you could retire to your room and by the time the heat between your legs became so unbearable it woke you up, he’d be gone. He had saved your life, if he was going to hurt you he would have by now right? It seemed reasonable to you now, but would you feel the same when your head was screwed back on correctly. You liked Eijiro, and you were kicking yourself for avoiding him before. He was so much nicer than you had thought, and maybe you really wanted to see if being interested in him would actually go anywhere. Would asking him inside ruin it all though?

As you reached your street your heart rate started to pick up, vision beginning to narrow, your omega beginning to panic. You were thankful for his warm hand on your arm, feeling almost dizzy from the contending lust and panic.

“(y/n)? Are you okay? Is it your chest? Breath honey it’s alright.” He suddenly stopped, forcing you to look at him. Your chest was rising rapidly as you shook your head at his question. “What is it then?” He raised an eyebrow, growing more concerned as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Eijiro, please…” It was basically a whine and you didn’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed. He stiffened instantly, eyes growing a shade darker before they slammed shut, holding his breath again. “Please come inside, please stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?” You were begging at this point, and you know it with virtually no shame, gripping his large hand in both of your own. “Eijiro?”

He groaned heavily, using his free hand to wipe his face. A glance down showed you he wasn’t entirely immune to your antics, a prominent bulge appearing in his sweats, and you almost wish you hadn’t looked with the way your core throbbed. You were already wet before, but at this rate you were going to leak through your thin leggings. As your scent hit him again he let out another groan before almost an entire 180, relaxing his shoulders and lacing his fingers with your own.

“Of course (y/n)! What kind of hero would I be if I left a lady in distress?” He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as he smiled brightly, but his eyes hid something in them. Something you died to unlock, shame be damned. As you made your way to the door, fumbling with your keys your eyes met his, catching the light dusty of pink on his cheeks and the heavy look in his eyes. Your eyes were caught in his, sharing a silent word until he cleared his throat again.

“Let’s get you to bed, ‘mega.” His voice was low, a clear order from his alpha that made you jerk away, unlocking your door and stumbling inside, abandoning your shoes and jacket by the door as you moved towards the living room, him following along, locking the door behind. The air felt stifling, the heat wasn’t even on, but you felt like you were in a furnace. His scent fluffed around your tiny apartment as you gestured to the couch.

“I think I need a shower.” You laughed, uncomfortable but anything but afraid. “The remotes on the table.”

“Just shout if you need anything.” He flopped down onto the couch, smiling up at you. Your mind ran as you made your way back to the bathroom. You had actually invited him and he actually agreed? You felt so conflicted, one part of you wanting to drag him under the warm water with you as it started to fill the bathroom with steam and the other part of you wanting to send him right back outside, blaming your heat for your lack of a filter. It wasn’t just your heat though, and you knew that. You would want him here regardless, you just weren’t bold enough to actually tell him that. As you stepped under the water your mind filled with scenarios of how he could help you in more ways than just guarding your door.

The large red mark on your chest would surly bruise, tender to the touch between your breasts as you scrubbed the skin, trying to remove any bit of the disgusting scent that seemed to cling to you no matter how hard you tried to scrub it off, your omega almost frantic to remove it as you gave up, stepping out of the shower and pulling on your robe. You could always ask Eijiro to scent you, but that felt like too far after dragging him into your house.

Deciding against it, you let out a whine before opening the door, jumping back as you almost ran into a broad chest.

“You smelled upset I’m sorry I-I had to make sure you were…okay” He seemed to have a hard time finding words, eyes completely shifted to the alpha yellow as he looked down at you, gaze searching for any sign of danger. It was now or never you guessed.

“The smell…” You pouted up at him. “I smell like him, could you um?” Before a silence could fill the air his hands shot out gripping your hips tightly before dragging his scent glands over your wet hair, slowly moving down as he scented your neck, your back ramrod straight as you let out a breathy gasp. His lips grazed over your own scent gland, causing you to shiver in his arms as he moved further down still. Your robe had fallen open, not yet exposing your breasts, but the space between them, red and starting to bruise open to the air. He growled low, lightly rubbing his cheek over the spot before placing a chaste kiss over it. That made your knees collapse, and if it wasn’t for his grip you would be a puddle on the floor.

“Sorry ‘mega.” His voice was gruff as he pulled away, causing you to whine as he looked down on you, “I couldn’t help myself. Let’s actually get you to bed.” Your mind was cloudy, feeling like you were floating as he guided you down the hall and to your room. He stood at your door as you made your way inside, allowing your robe to drop off as your mind became laser focused on reaching your nest, momentarily forgetting he was there entirely.

He was sure any other alpha would have ripped into your room instantly at the sight, but he had to control himself. You had already been traumatized once tonight and the last thing you needed was a burly alpha like himself ruining your safe space as you flopped into your nest, rearranging the blankets and pillows that filled it with a huff, brows furrowed. You only seemed to get more agitated as you worked, head finally snapping back to him with a huff.

“Alpha needa smell like you.” Your voice almost slurred as you spoke, almost snapping his fraying resolve. He knew he should have stayed in the living room, but the sour switch of your fruity scent had almost made him feral, and he just couldn’t leave you. Couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you pouted to him. “Want you.” You mumbled to him and he was done. String snapping he made his way through your room to your nest,hesitating at the edge before you grabbed his arm with surprising strength, pulling his willing body in with you. Your body instantly molded to his, despite your heated skin his warmth feeling amazing as you scented him.

“Alpha please.” You didn’t even know what you needed as you begged for something, anything as he stayed stiff, arms at his side as you burrowed against his chest.

“Shh, you’re okay.” He said, finally wrapping his arms around you as he maneuvered you, laying with his back against the plush fortress. “You should sleep ‘mega.” That nickname made your skin tingle like it was on fire. You whined again at him as you pulled up, locking eyes with him. He looked at home in here and you had half a mind to never let him leave your nest again.

“Needa knot first.” The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them, that being even too far for your current state, instantly breaking eye contact as you pulled further away, looking away as his hand came up to cover his eyes, breaths ragged as he took in your words.

“(y/n)...I need to know if you mean that. If you really want me, or if it’s just your heat.” It wasn’t just your heat. You had fantasized about this before, you had thought of him more times than you would like to admit and not just in this way.

“Only want you, Eijiro, only ever you alpha.” You babbled in response, hoping that he believed you. There must have been something in your face, because as he lifted his hand from his eyes and stared at you for a moment he finally nodded his head.

“Alright ‘mega,” His voice had changed ever so slightly, the commanding alpha tone back, “You’ll tell me if anything is too far. If anything hurts. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Are you on birth control?” You instantly defeated at his words, the stress leaving your shoulders as you fell to him.

“Yes alpha, I am and I will!” You said back eagerly. “I want you.” He laughed lightly at you, shaking his head as he sat up, catching your mouth in a kiss that soon morphed into something less than innocent, tongues tangling as he eased you onto your back. His hands gripped your hips pulling you closer as one hand began drifting towards your center.

“Jesus ‘mega, you’re soaked.” He pulled away speaking against your lips as you mewled.

“Need your knot.” You said as a response. He shook his head lightly.

“Need to make sure you can take it pretty girl.” He said, a finger slipping in easily, soon adding a second, pumping in a way that made your spine curl. You moaned as his lips connected to your chest, tongue encircling the bud of your peaked nipple causing you to cry out as he began to scissor his fingers. You could feel yourself getting close, already so close to the edge before he even touched you.

“Cum and I’ll give you my knot ‘mega. Need you ready for this dick.” His words seemed to melt into your skin, lighting you up inside, sending you hurtling over the edge as his fingers reached a specific spot inside you as your toes curled, crying out his name as you did just that.

“Good girl, such a good ‘mega.” He praised you as he continued to move his fingers allowing you to ride out your orgasm as you groaned at his words. “How do you want this pretty girl, it’s up to you this time.” His words of “this time” swirled through your head as you tried to answer him through your moans, eventually reaching down to grab his wrist, stopping his movement for long enough to catch your breath.

“Want to see you.” You huffed out, hoping he understood what you meant, and to your glee he seemed to be on the same page. He pulled out his hand slowly, your pussy clenching around nothing as he pulled your legs up, allowing them to rest on his shoulders. You weren’t sure when he took off his shirt but were beyond happy with the view it granted you, his huge muscular chest making you clench weakly.

“Look at me.” He commanded roughly, causing your eyes to snap to his as he shimmied down his pants, allowing the leaking head of his cock to trace over you. “You will tell me if it’s too much; tell me to stop and I will, one word and it’s over okay?” His words made you want to fold in on yourself, allow him to take whatever he wanted, but his eyes were different. They almost looked nervous like he was worried for you and holding himself back. He looked like he truly cared, almost like-

“I will, Eijiro.” It was like a piece of your mind had finally come back to you, and at your words he nodded, allowing his cock to slide in, inch by inch. Despite stretching you earlier, there was still a delicious burn as he sunk in bit by bit. If he didn’t want you after this, you didn’t know what you would do, never feeling so full before, his knot not even fully inflated at this point.

“You okay?” His voice was gruff, like he was holding himself back as he looked down at you intently, trying to read your face.

“Please, alpha fill me please please please.” You begged under him, trying to wiggle your hips as he let out a groan, hands moving to grip the back of your thighs, bending them to your chest.

“Anything for you, ‘mega.” Before you could even process his words, he snapped his hips, causing you to cry out as your head fell back, at his complete mercy as he began to fuck you hard into your carefully crafted fortess. It was like your brain was disconnected, short circuited as his hips pistoned into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room, drowned out by your near sceam- moaning.

“You’re mine now ‘mega. No one else will ever lay a finger on you or I’ll break their fucking arm.” He grunted out, pushing your legs higher as you cried below him, babbling nonsense as you tried to connect back to your brain, clenching tight at his words.

“All yours alpha.” You moaned out. You were embarrassingly close again. If he meant what he said though, you would at least have a day or two more of this as he helped you through your heat.

“Gonna fill you up so much no one will even smell your heat on you. All they’ll be able to smell is me. They’ll know who this cunt belongs to.” His words were filthy as he spoke to you. “Are you gonna cum again? All over my knot ‘mega?” You could only moan at his words, knowing he was right. “You know I’ve wanted this for months, every time I saw you I wanted to drag you away and show you who you should belong to…show you why you should choose me.” Your vision was beginning to grow hazy, seconds away from crashing over the edge. “You know what? It wasn’t even your tight pussy or your ass that I couldn’t get out of my mind.” His words made you pause, gasping as his eyes meant yours. “It’s those fucking eyes, I couldn’t get them out of my head.” He said with a particularly sharp thrust as your head fell back again. “Look at me as you cum.” As soon as your eyes met his you fell, the tight cord inside of you snapping as you gushed around him, a few more thrust before he too was cumming, hot seed filling you as his knot locked you together, feeling almost uncomfortably full as he let your legs fall back down, resting his head on your collar bone as you both tried to catch your breath.

He soon raised his head, puppeting you to a more comfortable position as you waited for his knot to deflate, already half asleep as you snuggled up to him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mean it, you know.” He said, your turn to hum in response. “I want to take you out ‘mega. I’ll prove to you, I’m worthy of you.”

“You are worthy, Eijiro.” You mumbled out, kissing his arm as you snuggled impossibly closer. “Sleep alpha.”

“Sleep ‘mega.” He agreed with a laugh as you faded into the most restful sleep you’ve had in a long time.

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