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aurorasgate · 3 months ago

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mutual masturbation with caleb

caleb x fem!reader this is pure filth y'all and the first time i'm writing for this man who can't seem to get out of my brain🫠🩷

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! masturbation obvi, post when he comes back, a tiny bit of voyeurisms but its not on purpose, praise kink, cute teasing and pet names, he'd kiss you if he weren't a little romantic for you but that doesn't stop him from cumming on you <3 its true love okay, i don't think anything else but please let me know if i missed something!

the key to your place sits in his palm, warm from his skin, guiding him like it’s tied to a tether thats other end could only possibly be with you. the person he wants to be with the most in the world. it’s small and light, especially in a hand as large as his, but it holds the weight of so much more.

hope. a promise and want all consuming and built over years together and what feels like even longer apart.

caleb knows you just got home, the pinging notification of your late arrival after work came on his phone the same minute he stepped off the train from skyhaven to linkon. he had decided to not let you know he’s coming by but didn’t waste a single moment hurrying to the store for ingredients to cook you something delicious and make his way to your apartment so he’s not late.

there’s something blooming in his chest as he slides the key into the lock without knocking, warm and familiar despite the thought that you might not be happy to see him sitting unwelcomingly at the bottom of his stomach and this being the first time he’s ever used the key you gave him.

you’ve been reaching out more, sounding happier because of him, asking when you’ll be together next, and he doesn’t want this distance between you any longer. he wants to see you, every breathing moment he wants you right next to him, and is looking forward to your surprised and smiling face upon his arrival.

your apartment is quieter, darker, than he expected when he opens the door and closes it with a soft click behind him. he knows you’re home and yet, the only thing to greet him is the blue lights of your kitchen appliances displaying the late hour. with quiet movements, he sets down the paper bag full of ingredients on the kitchen counter, leaves his keys next to it, and takes in your space; the items around him sitting in shadow that are all reminders of you, the sweet scent of you lingering in the air, the doors down the small hallway without light shining through them, except for your bedroom.

a low light filters through the bottom and slight crack in the not quite closed door, like only your nightstand lamp is on, and if he listens carefully, he can hear the muffled and small rustling sounds of movements. he doesn’t call out to you or say a word as he makes his way towards your bedroom. perhaps it’s out of habit, an old childhood one where he’d enjoy keeping quiet, hidden, until you were within arms reach and surprising you, giving you a bit of a jumpscare, so he could see your face contort with a cute pout once you realized it was him. or maybe it’s for other reasons, ones hard to put a name to when he hadn’t really let himself before but that are anything but foreign to him.

before he can decide what he’ll do, finally say something so you know he’s here or knock on the frame or just swing it open and ask accusingly, teasingly, what you’re doing, all of his movements and brain function come to a complete halt an inch away from the threshold of your bedroom when he hears you.

lewd squelching sounds, rhythmic and fast, chasing after something, fills his ears and is accompanied rather than drowned out by the way you call his name in a way he’d only ever heard in his most sinful of dreams.

“c - caleb~”

no - this couldn’t compare. it was so much better than he had been able to imagine and almost too good to be true. and when it comes again, more desperate, full of heat and wanting need, he’s reaching for the door before he can decide whether he actually should or not.

you don’t hear the opening of your door with your pleasure and thoughts of caleb getting the better of you. all you can focus on is the way your fingers don’t quite reach deep enough and the image of calebs hands, so much bigger, stronger, than your own, being able to touch and pleasure the depths of your warmth and find the perfect spot inside you over and over again. you don’t doubt he’d be wonderful at it.

it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him like this and it certainly won’t be the last. especially now that you swear he’s within arms reach in a way you thought you’d never have the chance to try for after.. well, you don’t want to think about that now. and you don’t. can’t possibly when you finally open your eyes and, through your hazy, lust filled vision, see him standing at the entrance of your bedroom.

your brain takes several moments to catch up, not quite sure if you were actually seeing him or just a mirage that you had conjured up more times than you’d like to count but when your eyes meet the lavender fields of his own, see them darkening into something more akin to most stunning of amethyst, and he says your name in a tone you had never heard from before, you know he’s there for real. having witnessed you touching yourself and no doubt having heard you calling out for him as you did.

there’s no notice of your displeasure at the loss of fullness between your legs when mortification is a living thing inside of you, washing over every nerve and inch of skin and has you sputtering out incoherent words as your hands tug at the shirt you had lifted just above your breasts and your legs shut with a clap of your thighs and the stickiness that had built up trying to get yourself off. “oh my fucking - caleb - i - when did - i’m - you - i just -”

the step he takes closer to you, drawing your eyes from his handsome darkened features to the impressive bulge straining in his jeans, stops your words. you aren’t quite sure if your silence is better or worse than your string of explanations, questions, excuses, you couldn’t even form fully but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“you don’t have to stop on my account,” he finally says, his tone heady and teasing all at once. he thinks you look astonishingly stunning like this, the heat of your cheeks radiating through the entire room, your lips parted but no words coming out, your legs shyly pressed together and your peaked nipples showing through the thin fabric of your shirt that hardly covers you up. he keeps a painful distance between you despite it all and how badly he wants to touch you right now. he can’t overstep. can’t do anything that might make the progress you had made together thus far since reuniting come crumbling down at his feet. “i can leave if you-”

“no!” you’re quick to reply, your voice far more desperate than you would have preferred and you half expect caleb to comment on it but he only stares at you, like he might never let you leave this room, the tension between you building and building until you think you can’t take it anymore and force yourself to continue, to say what lays in your heart. “don’t go.. unless you want to. i - i’m sorry..”

he chuckles, soft and with no judgment. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” he’s more than honored to be the one you think of when touching yourself, would have loathed for it to be anyone but him. caleb starts to close the distance between you, slow and giving you the chance to change your mind but he hopes, prays, you don’t. for so long he’s dreamed of you like this. at the edge of your bed, he stands and watches his fingers running along the cotton of your sheets before they’re on the arch of your foot, traveling up to your ankle in a chaste movement that’s comforting and electrifying. “i don’t want to go.”

you feel far too shy, still so full of embarrassment and mortification he found you like this, to speak the words out loud that you want him, for him to touch you, be with you in a way you never had before, and are beyond thankful and breathless when he takes the lead and says the words himself.

calebs eyes meet yours, making it feel like your heart may leap right out of your chest with all the emotions behind his gaze that you could get lost in and the way his breaths fall heavy and hot in the space around. “let me help you.”

it’s not a question but you nod in acknowledgement anyway and try to swallow your shame. you never need to feel that way with him; not back then and not now. spreading your legs slowly, your arms cradled to your chest, his touch remains on your ankle but his eyes drop to watch your movements and your own are just as shameless, taking in the hardness of his cock and the way it seems to twitch in his jeans at the sight of you.

“have you ever touched someone like this caleb?” you don’t know why you ask. time and time again he’s told you he wouldn’t get a girlfriend, hasn’t had a girlfriend, and if the answer was yes - you could already feel the lick of jealousy traveling up your spine.

his hand not on your leg reaches for your face, gentle and firm in the way he forces you to look at him with his grip on your chin. “what do you think?” he looks and sounds unbelievably serious, like he’s hurt you’d even ask and truthfully, he is. there has never been anyone but you and there never will be anyone but you in his eyes. cradled in his arms. in his bed. on his cock.

worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, he keeps his hold on your chin but you need to look anywhere but the violet eyes staring back at you. it’s too much and not enough. not nearly what you need but enough to swallow you whole. instead of replying, you spread your legs farther, focusing on his fingers still lingering on your ankle and how badly you want them to touch other places of you. “caleb..” is all you can bring yourself to reply but it’s answer enough for him.

his hands leave you in order to make quick work of his shoes before he’s crawling his way between your legs, fully clothed, completely hard, and having to remind himself to breathe rather than take you in every possible way he could right here and now. though he can’t say it’s helping when every lung full of air is laced with your scent and your arousal. but he hasn’t even ever kissed you before and regardless of how badly- so fucking badly - he wants you, you deserve something so much more than sharing your first kiss together like this. he simply won’t have it.

with your thighs resting on his, helping keep you spread open, he sits on his knees to reach your face and kiss your forehead, tender and lingering and full of love. your face is so warm under his lips and against your burning skin, he whispers with a smile, “go on pretty girl. i said i’d help.”

as he pulls his lips away, your hand still stained with your essence finds its way back between your legs. how much you’re truly enjoying having caleb here is evident in the wetness you find there, so much more than before when it had only been you and your imagination to get you through it. you gather your slick on the tips of your fingers with a swipe along your folds, starting from your little hole and moving up to your clit that you graze softly with your nail and let out a small sound in response.

caleb doesn’t touch you, not yet, and instead watches through heavy lidded eyes at the way your fingers sink into your cunt, slow and tentative, the way you take them in and the jolt of pleasure that resounds through the rest of you at the pleasure of it; how your chest lifts slightly off the bed as you try to take in breaths through it, your legs trembling against his own in time with the wet sounds of your fingers going in and out and your other hand that reaches for him in a silent plea.

but it’s for more than him to finally touch you and you know you’ll have to say it aloud for him to do it but he did say he’d help you and this would absolutely do the trick. “will you.. will you touch yourself too?”

“yeah? you’d like that pipsqueak?”

“don’t call me that when we’re like this,” you chide, not nearly as serious as you wish you were but it’s just not something you can muster right now. not when you can’t even look up at him. a fact he knows all too well by the way he chuckles low in response. “please caleb.. want to see you feel good too.”

“seeing you like this makes me feel good,” he replies, dreamy and far away but it’s followed by the sound of his belt being undone and the zipper of his jeans. you can’t help but stare at his movements, watching as he pulls himself free of his boxers just enough to grasp the base of his cock and good god he’s big. you had assumed considering all of him is, that this would be no exception but seeing his cock and the way it looks in his hold is something else entirely. “do you always think about me when you’re touching yourself sweetheart?”

“always..” you admit, trying to match the rhythm of your fingers to the pace he begins to set for himself, and it’s absolutely the truth. even when you thought it might be wrong to think of him like this, you couldn’t help yourself or the way your brain and pussy always ran towards thoughts of him and him alone. “do you? think about me when you touch yourself, i mean..”

finally, after what feels like so long, he touches you, using his hand that can feel you without pain to press his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves that’s your clit. you’re so unbelievably soft, he thinks, so perfect. how could ever think of anyone else? “every. single. time.” he punctuates each word with more and more pressure in the little swirls and attention he gives your clit, all the while gripping himself tighter.

the warmth of his hand joins yours as you both explore and touch between your legs. it’s hard to believe he’s never done this before when every single touch he gives you is so far beyond what you had ever been able to give yourself and you only think it’s more true when his long fingers glide down the back of your hand and one of them joins two of yours that fills your dripping cunt. he slides it in slow, as if taking in every millisecond of it for himself just as much as it for you, and lets his palm press against the back of your hand so every move you make it as one.

“ah! caleb!” you cry out at the welcomed stretch, so blissed out and hungry for more. your free hand grabs a hold of his arm that works himself in slow pumps, up and down the length of his cock, collecting the pearly beads of precum leaking from his slit. you’re surprised to find it warm despite what you know lies beneath but you don’t let it stop you from your fingers digging into his skin, enough to hurt, make sure he feels it, feels you.

he groans at how tightly you hold onto him and the way you greedily accept his finger with your own, every sweet and full in and out mention of them making you more full than you’d ever been but somehow you don’t think it’s enough as his cock would be. it takes no time at all for him to find and follow where you curl them into the perfect spot inside of you, making you see stars of purples and white.

“you’re such a good girl..” he praises with the same low tone, completely intoxicated with your noises and the sounds that join them in a sweet and filthy melody of your dripping pussy and his aching cock. “you can take another, can’t you?”

nodding, you attempt to add an emphasis to how badly you want more by unlatching your hand from his arm and running your fingers along the head of his dick. it’s hard to steady your movements with the way your body sways with each thrust of fingers in and out of you, the pace caleb helps you set that rocks your body almost soothingly, but the feeling of you in anyway, no matter how, is enough to drive caleb wild. he doesn’t waste a moment sliding another one of his long and lithe fingers into you, taking full control of yours, pressing them against your velvety walls and setting a punishing pace that you will not be able to keep for long.

“caleb - wait -”

“keep your legs spread,” he tells you when you attempt to voice how quickly your orgasm is coming to you and bring your legs together to help calm yourself down but like the good girl he knows you are, his good girl, they shakily open back up at his words.

“won’t last like this..” you try to tell him but you don’t know if the words actually leave your lips when the pressure below your belly won’t stop building at an alarming rate and is spurred on by how he looks between your legs. his eyes are hidden underneath the ends of soft locks but you know he’s looking at you, watching the way his fingers get lost in the soft silk of your pussy, and you’re utterly captivated by the way his arms flex underneath his shirt as he gets you both where you want to be and his hand wrapped around his cock, growing more and more erratic in its movements. it has you aching to have him inside of you.

it’s not something you’ll get the change to voice, however. not when he looks into your eyes, presses his fingers knuckles deep and then deeper, forcing your own to go with his, and the words he speaks are more of a command than a request, with a lilt of the voice you heard him use when being the commander of the fleet, leaving no room or choice but for your body to obey. “cum for me beautiful.”

you do. breaking around his fingers like you never have on your own before. it’s overwhelming, enough to have tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a pleasuring cry you had never made before slipping uncontrollably out of your lips in the form of his name, and your walls clenching and pulsing so hard around both of your fingers. through every rack of pleasure coursing through your body, caleb only adds to it, already knowing the perfect spot to keep hitting inside of you in order to let you ride out every last moment of your high and when you think maybe it’s over, it only gets prolonged when you hear the deep moan of your name caleb lets out above you and feel the warmth of his release on your vulva, how it coats you in his plentiful cum and drips from your cunt onto the sheets below you before he’s even finished.

you aren’t sure how long you stay like that, both of you fighting for breath and letting the last bits of your orgasms wash over you, but after some time when all that's left is the mess between your legs and the truth of what you’ve just done together still a warming hum in your limbs, caleb is careful, thoughtful, as he helps to guide your fingers out of your entrance, soothing you with a soft hum when the overstimulation of it makes you shutter.

“feelin’ better?” he asks, the aftershock of pleasure still clinging to his vocal cords.

“mhm - much.” your own voice is not any better but you don’t care or worry. not when it feels so good, so right, to have him here with you, seeing you like this. despite your past embarrassment about it only minutes ago, which can’t hold a candle to this between you, it brings you back to how you ended up here in the first place. you’re certain he wasn’t here before and that you didn’t have plans, not that it’s a complaint though. “no offense caleb but what are you doing here?”

you see him smirk as he gets off of your bed, tucking his dick back into his pants with ease before looking at you as if you hung the moon and stars yourself, just for him. “making you dinner, of course.” he says it so matter of factly, like he wasn’t just knuckles deep inside you, as he leans over the edge of the bed to scoop you into his embrace, one strong arm at your back and one under your legs, uncaring of the mess dripping from your pussy. “after we get you cleaned up that is.”

#im down so so bad #caleb #caleb x reader #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepsace x reader #lads caleb #lads x reader #caleb smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #l&ds #l&ds x reader #l&ds smut #l&ds caleb #🌙.moonlight stories

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lumentears · 2 months ago

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🔆 ohjoy Follow

okay since I recently found out that me and literally 5 other kids in my choir had a phase where we made serious plans to run away and become a 9th penitent - is this an 8th House thing or are teens just like that

🔆 ohjoy Follow

BONE CULTISTS? ON MY HELLSITE?

✒ blackquill Follow

It's more likely than you think.

♠ homefront-titties-of-the-4th Follow

i was dropping off the kids at the cohort seminar and the 2nd house recruiter saw my wheelchair and asked if I was a veteran ... like aye cap they gave me ms in the war

♠ homefront-titties-of-the-4th Follow

she asked me what front i served at and I said "the big one". she gasped

♠ homefront-titties-of-the-4th Follow

WHEN I CAME BACK TO FETCH THE SQUIRTS SHE HAD A VETERAN'S DISCOUNT STAMP READY FOR ME there were tears in her eyes i swear

🥴 badjokesbyjohn Follow

Why do milking stools only have 3 legs

Because the cow has the udder.

⚪ the-redeemerrrrrr-deactivated

username checks out man you fell off. tf does that even mean

👅 one-flesh-one-smash Follow

fuck off back to deaddit. john has been trying to get an ARG off the ground for so long, let him cook. That ancient colour of the sky post was a banger

☕ fidelitea Follow

TIL that weird baby blue sky post came from the bad jokes guy

🌸 rigormortis Follow

feeling so aenemic today...

👄 what-that-mouth-of-the-emperor-do Follow

it's the year of our lord 10000, can we leave consumptioncore in the fucking dust where it belongs?! It's not cute, you're not giving Duchess of Rhodes, you're giving none of my friends want to spend time outside with me

🍖 drchuckshingle Follow

some sad news for y'all today. once again two of my shinglers, "pounded in the butt by the realisation that none of us will live to see a time of peace" and its sequel, "pounded in the butt by the realisation that the previous realisation must have occurred to dozens of my ancenstors and still we fight on", have been placed on the eighth house index of heresies. OH WELL! i will continue to write as long as there is one person waiting to read, and that person is ME!

📜 solace-in-thighs Follow

aw shucks that sucks! at least your works are in good company among other works of art on the index (or so i hear)

🩸 saints-alive Follow

dude we can all look up the index. "saint of seduction" "cavaliers off the leash" "pounded in the butt by a chainsmoking saint that remains otherwise unspecified and could belong to any fictional religion"

is that the good company you're speaking off? or are you just sad you can't jerk it to pervert porn anymore

📜 solace-in-thighs Follow

Nice try. Among erotic works, several priceless artifacts with immense cultural and scientific value have been indexed by the Eighth. E.g. the collected letters of General Duodecim to his spouses in the year of 3097, being one of the only firsthand accounts of the establishment of the first shepherd worlds. That's so long ago they still called them colonies! It's from before the divine edict of 4001!

🩸 saints-alive Follow

general duodecim was a weirdo who wrote self insert fanfic about himself getting his guts rearranged by the saint of duty TO HIS SPOUSES

📜 solace-in-thighs Follow

Psychometrists from the Sixth have affirmed the authenticity of the texts again and again. The Saint of Duty fucks nasty and raw, die mad about it <3

🍈 magnus-quinn-big-naturals Follow

I'm sad I can't jerk it to pervert porn anymore :(

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

the good news: they're letting me go out tonight!

the bad news: it's for my great-uncle's funeral.

the secret good news: I met him twice and those were two times too many. Odious man!

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

worse news: they've sat me next to Captain Deuteros I hate it here

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

looooord undying she's talking about the weather. Nice yellow we're having tonight! Lemon, with a hint of cadmium - or is it cadmium with a hint of lemon?

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

her shuttle journey was uneventful, if you were wondering. heaven forbid she experience two consecutive seconds of excitement.

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

she saw me using necrumblr under the table and tutted at me. L-O-L!

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

Maybe I should faint. I haven't fainted in ages!

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

IMPORTANT UPDATE. The Crown Princess of Ida struck up a conversation with her from across the table and the captain dropped a dumpling into her lap.

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

it's been five minutes. the Princess is still talking to her and the window in which she could have picked the dumpling up with minimal embarrassment has passed ages ago.

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

dumplingwatch: it's still there. waiting. cooling. soaking through her trousers.

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

RIP DUMPLING! The Princess is giving a speech and the captain kicked it under the table. She thinks nobody noticed

💌 do-not-go-gently Follow

WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THE WEATHER AGAIN I NEED THE CANCER TO GET ITS SHIT TOGETHER RIGHT NOW

#dashboard simulator #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #unreality #tw terminal illness #shitpost #getting back to my roots with weirdly elaborate shitposts i hope this doesn't flop

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d1stalker · 8 months ago

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The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route.

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear.

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly.

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind.

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute.

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck?

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of?

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back.

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it.

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice.

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye.

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you.

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness.

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made.

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive.

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found.

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that.

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

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holdmytesseract · 20 days ago

Text

Yours For the Night

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: The kids are away for the night, which gives you and Daryl the opportunity for some much needed private time - or does it?

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! Smut (not entirely graphic, but it's definitely there - like, you know exactly what's going on), established relationship, lots of kissing, suggestive stuff, unprotected sex - twice (don't do this, guys), y/n gets head, fluff!!! swear words, embarrassed daryl times, humor? daryl has a man bun - oops, mentions of blood and walkers

Set in Season 11!

Word Count: 4,7k

a/n: This is what happens when I listen to music ('Slow Low' by Jason Derulo - to be precise) and got S11!Daryl on my mind. 👀 I truly hope this is okay and y'all are going to like it. 🫣

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Hey, sunshine."

Daryl entered your shared apartment with the all familiar words; closing the door behind himself. You looked over at him from where you stood behind the kitchen counter. A smile grazed your lips. "Hey." He was wearing his Commonwealth soldier armor with the helmet dangling from between his fingers of his tattooed hand. "Ya cookin'?" Your partner asked and ran a hand through his chestnut curls; eyes scanning the stove and countertop. Your smile widened, "Mhm." as you took a step to the left and lifted the lid of the pot. "Wanna have a taste?"

Daryl smiled softly and let his helmet fall carelessly to the floor, before he made his way over. The archer came to stand behind you. With his hands on your hips, he looked over your shoulder and watched you work. You took a spoon and scooped a big portion of stew up; aiming for his mouth so he could try the cooked meal.

"And?" You questioned him as he chew on the spoonful. "Mhm, 's real good," he stated with his mouth full. You smiled; happy that you had your partner's approval. Daryl swallowed and let his gaze wander through the room. Only now did he notice that it was quiet.

Too quiet.

"Where 'r the kids 'n Dog?" "They're at auntie Carol's... Sleepover party." You stirred the stew and put the lid back on the pot, then tilted your head to witness Daryl raising both eyebrows. "Tha' so?" "Mhm." "Any special reason for tha'?"

Apparenty, he had seen right through you already.

"Weeell..." You started and turned in his embrace. Both your palms came to rest on the breast plate covering his chest. "I, uh, thought we could have an evening together... Just the two of us, you know... Without the kids," you started to explain and shook your head. "Don't get me wrong. I love Jude and RJ, but... It's been so long since we had some time to ourselves. Some... privacy." You gazed up into his beautiful blue-greyish eyes and let your palms travel up over his shoulder pads to the nape of his neck. Standing on your tiptoes, you tugged gently; silently asking him to lower his head. Daryl complied to your silent plea.

Your eyes slipped shut as you pressed your forehead against his; feeling him close. The warmth of his skin, his breath against your lips. "I miss you, Dar... I miss being close to you. I miss exchanging more than just a few innocent kisses. I miss... our intimacy," you whispered; your nose brushing his. "To feel your touch... Your skin on mine... Being physically connected... I miss it."

You could feel the archer's fingers flex against your clothed skin. His grip tightened as he pulled you closer against his body. "Yeah... I get whatcha mean. I miss ya too, sweet girl. More than I can say," he whispered back in that deep, low voice which never failed to get your nerve ends tingling.

You wanted to speak up and answer him, but Daryl didn't let you get that far. His lips grazed yours - as if to test the waters, before he dove in and caught your lips for a chaste kiss. It was soft and almost cautious at first, but once he felt your mouth moving in sync against his, the kiss grew quickly more passionate.

But when you felt his tongue asking yours for a dance, you pulled back; knowing that if you'd accept his offer there would be no holding back anymore. "D-Daryl..." You panted slightly out of breath. He frowned; was visibly confused by your rejection. "D-Dinner-" "Can wait," he interrupted you with a grunt and shut you up with another deep kiss.

It was intoxicating and incredibly alluring. You couldn't stop; didn't even want to. Not after such a long time without this.

You were barely able to turn off the stove, before Daryl guided you backwards around the kitchen counter and towards the sofa across the room. You knew what he had in mind - but you had other plans. So, you stopped him before he could push you down on the comfortable piece of furniture. Freeing your lips with a soft pop, you smirked up at him. "Want me to help you get out of this?" You jutted your head towards him; referring to his armor, as your fingertips glided back down to his chest. "Please," Daryl said hoarsely. "'M lookin' ridiculous in this thing." You instantly shook your head; "No, babe." biting your lip. "You look incredibly hot in this thing."

He scoffed. Daryl didn't believe you, you knew that - but you didn't care. Instead, you started to peel the sturdy pads and plates which covered his whole body off of him; starting at his shoulders.

Daryl's eyes never left you. He watched how your skilled, tender hands worked on freeing him from his burden as a soldier - at least for now.

It took you quite a few moments to remove the armor. Once he was left in nothing but his black sweatshirt, pants and socks, you pulled him into another kiss.

Your wandering hands didn't stop there, of course. They continued their journey and started to undo the belt, fly and button of his pants; ridding your partner of the unnecessary garment. Daryl eagerly helped you at the task at hand and fumbled with the hem of his sweatshirt to pull it over his head and throw it carelessly to the floor. The amount of skin which was suddenly exposed to your desiring, hungry eyes was close to overwhelming. You couldn't stop eyes from travelling up and down Daryl's bulky frame. From those broad shoulders and muscular arms, over the scars on his chest and the softness of his stomach, down his thick thighs and strong legs.

He was just so bulky and yet incredibly soft, it managed to send your brain into a frenzy. Sure, he had aged over all those years you got to know him - but in the best way possible. He had grown from a 'boy' into man.

Of course did your eyes not fail to also notice the archer's undeniable excitement which bulged his boxer shorts way more than usual.

You bit your lip; feeling your very own excitement grow like a flower.

A low chuckle from above you ripped you out of your trance-like state. "I know ya like wha' ya see, sweet girl, but..." Daryl whispered as his thumb and forefinger cupped your chin and gently lifted your head until you could stare straight into his breathtaking orbs. "Eyes up here." He gave you that cute, signature half-smile, "Tha's it." and dipped his own head to indulge you in yet another passionate kiss. You practically melted against Daryl; feeling the heat radiating off his skin.

While your lips were entangled in another dance, it was your partner's turn to let his hands wander. They worked on undressing your sweatpants and sweatshirt simultaneously. Unfortunately, needed your little makeout session to be interrupted, in order to free you of the piece of clothing. The rest was no problem and could be easily shed during the makeout session.

Once you were just as nude as Daryl, he didn't hesitate to explore every dip and curve of your gorgeous body. His work-worn and calloused, yet loving and gentle hands felt incredible against your hot and prickling skin. It was a sensation you'd never get tired of feeling - each and every time anew.

When you felt all the pent up restraint and longing desire reach its peak - to the point of borderline insufferableness, you retreated from the kiss. Much to Daryl's dismay. His swollen, chapped lips chased after yours; already missing the connection. You soothed him with your palms gliding over his chest and a small smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but you pushed Daryl back to make him sit down on the sofa - and his words failed him. Even more so, when he felt your fingertips hooking underneath the waistband of his boxers. He lifted his bottom to help you get rid of the undergarment. With lust-blown eyes, Daryl watched you climbing onto his lap. His palms instantly settled on your hips. A low grunt left his parted lips as he felt your bare core against his. Your breath got caught in your throat as well; feeling him hot and heavy and throbbing underneath you.

With your hands in his curls, you lowered your head to kiss him again. You just couldn't help yourself. And Daryl was more than delighted in getting smooched to death by you.

The both of you took some time to explore each other; romantic kisses and sinful touches with slow, deliberate grinding added into the intoxicating mix.

It already was heaven on earth. Both, you and Daryl had your eyes closed shut and simply acted blindly on instinct; guided by the love and desire you felt. But like before, you just couldn't take it anymore at some point. The built up need and want way too high to endure even a minute longer. So, you pressed a last open-mouthed kiss against your archer's lips and adjusted your position.

Daryl's eyes snapped open.

He knew what you were up to - of course. His grip on your hips tightened; heavily clouded eyes watching your hand slip between both your bodies to physically connect you in the most intimate way possible.

The man's jaw beneath you slackened as you bottomed out on top of him. A mute whine of pleasure got stuck in his throat. You threw your head back at the overwhelming feeling; exposing your neck to the archer's lustful eyes. A ragged breath paved its way past your lips and the hand which rested on Daryl's left pec for stability twitched; fingernails digging into the skin underneath. The other - now free hand slumped against his softly rounded stomach. "Y-You feel so good, Dar," you whispered and slowly started to move; setting a slow pace. The archer grunted low at your words, while he simultaneously helped you move and keeping you steady on his lap. "Ya, too, sunshine. Always feels so good," he stated as he looked deeply into your eyes.

You smiled softly with your lip tucked between your teeth and kept on moving; just wanting to feel.

The building pleasure tingling within your stomach fogged up your senses and urged you on to quicken the pace to chase your high - which you did. Daryl gasped beneath you; his ribcage rising and falling irregularly underneath your palm. Droplets of sweat rolled down his sternum and met your fingers which were splayed over his belly. "Y-Y/N..." Daryl croaked out and held your hips down with a strong grip; slowing your rhythm down again. "S-Slow down."

Your gaze met his once more.

Your Y/E/C eyes mirrored confusion. One corner of the archer's mouth twitched up into a small smile, before one hand released its hold on your waist to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "We ain't in a rush, sweet girl." and gently urged you on to rest your forehead against his. "Wanna take my time with ya..." His nose brushed yours. "Wanna love ya slow." You smiled; loving the way he thought. "Want me to hand over the reins?" "If tha's okay for ya?" You gave him a small nod and slightly readjusted your position. Now both your palms were on his chest with your torso literally laying on top of his. Daryl pecked your lips, wrapped both his arms around your middle and started to lazily thrust up - slow and sweet; bringing you both unhurriedly closer to the edge.

You were both so caught up in the moment - trapped in that beautiful bubble you had created together; floating somewhere on cloud nine.

A loud knock against your door almost managed to burst the bubble. Daryl's head snapped to his right to face the door; always on high alert - an unbreakable habit. His hips stuttered in their movements. "Wha-" "Just ignore it, babe. Don't stop, p-please," you cut him off immediately and entangled his lips in a kiss to keep his attention on you - on the wonderful lovemaking session you were currently involved in.

Your attempt was successful. Daryl redirected his attention and picked up the slow pace again; causing a low, sensual moan to slip past your lips.

Then it knocked again. You ignored it.

And again. You kept on ignoring it.

But then got the knocks louder - sharper. "Daryl!" Rosita's voice echoed muffled through the wooden door, "Open up!" and the bubble bursted. The moment of intimacy over.

The man beneath you grunted in frustration, his movements coming entirely to an halt, "Yeah, gimme a second!" before he gently slid you off his lap. You pouted with your arms crossed over your bare chest; watching him stand up and hastily getting dressed in his underwear, pants and sweatshirt. You were utterly pissed; left naked and unsatisfied on the sofa with that itch between your legs only Daryl was able to scratch. Not even you could. "'M sorry, sunshine," he muttered apologetically, before making his way over to the door. Your eyes followed him as you started to get dressed as well; still upset.

"Wha' is it?" Daryl grumbled as he opened the door to his friend. You weren't able to see Rosita, but you could tell by the sound of her voice that she was not amused as well. "A herd has been sighted. Mercer needs us. He couldn't reach you, so he sent me to get you." The archer huffed in annoyance. "Wha'? Now?" "Now. Come on, we gotta go." "My armor-" "Screw the armor, let's go. He's awaiting us."

Your partner turned his head to look back at you. A guilty, apologetic look was on his face; eyes filled with remorse. You sighed and pressed your lips into a thin line, but nodded; silently telling him to go. You didn't have the right to hold him back. He had a job to do now. No matter the situation. You had to get used to this - whether you liked it or not.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and just kept looking at you for a moment, before he redirected his attention back to Rosita. "A'right, let's go."

The door closed shut behind Daryl and you were left with nothing but pent up arousal and frustration.

Daryl followed Rosita down the hallways and stairs in silence, while rather desperately trying to discreetly adjust himself in his pants. Even though his head was somewhere else now and refocused, his... nether regions hadn't received the message just yet. It was highly uncomfortable. Being in full swing and suddenly getting trapped again in such 'tight' confines.

"You good?" Rosita's voice suddenly urged to his ears as she held the door of the apartment building open for him. "You look flushed." Daryl's eyes flickered up to meet hers and his cheeks reddened even more. He merely nodded. "'M fine." "Don't look fine." The archer just shrugged his shoulders and followed his long-term friend.

The both of them went quiet for a long moment, until Rosita looked over to check in on him again.

A smirk suddenly crossed her face. Daryl blinked; was clearly a bit confused and... nervous what got her smiling. "Wha'?" The black haired beauty jutted her chin at him. "Your fly is open." Daryl looked down himself almost frantically to find out that she was absolutely right. Embarrassment flooded his veins; the tips of his ears which peeked out behind his long curls turning red as well. Hastily, he zipped it up and searched desperately for a plausible explanation in his head - but Rosita had already connected the dots. She wasn't blind, neither stupid. "I interrupted something, didn't I?" "Nah," he instantly shot back with a grunt. Rosita raised a suspicious eyebrow; that smirk still on her lips. "No? Then why's your fly undone?" "Forgot to zip it up after takin' a piss," Daryl answered gruffly; hoping this was his way out of that awkward situation.

It wasn't.

"Well, the color of your face tells me something different." And Daryl gave up. It was over. Rosita knew. "Goddamnit," the archer cursed under his breath, and earned a giggle. "Did I at least intervene before the main event, or..?" He would've never thought - not even in his wildest dreams, that he was ever going to talk about sex with Rosita one day in his life - and here he was. He just shook his head; still quite embarrassed and awkward. The woman pressed her lips into a thin line. "Mierda. That sucks. I'm sorry I kept you and Y/N from having a good time." "Dun mention it. 'S not your fault. The kids are gone til' tomorrow mornin', so..." Rosita just smirked and continued to lead Daryl to the town hall, where Mercer and other Commonwealth soldiers already waited for them. "Dixon, Espinosa. Finally."

It was late at night when Daryl returned to the small home he shared with you, Dog and the Grimes kids. The apartment was dark and quiet; indicating that you had gone to bed already - something the archer had anticipated, and yet it made him sigh. A small sliver of hope had been flickering inside him, that he'd find you exactly how he left you... Curled up on the sofa; smiling and waiting for him - perhaps dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. But his sinful vision got quickly extinguished; replaced by a feeling of emptiness and longing.

Another sigh left Daryl's lips as he passed by the kitchen counter and sofa on his way to the bathroom; noticing that everything was tidied up. You had even collected the different pads and plates of his armor and placed them neatly on the coffee table.

In the hopes of not waking you - just in case you already were asleep, he discarded his clothes for a second time that day and stepped underneath the shower to wash the sweat, grime and blood off of his body. Once finished, he used one of the fluffy towels to dry himself, before he slipped in a fresh pair of boxer shorts. Not bothering to get further dressed, he tied his still damp hair together into a bun and went to join you in bed.

You felt the mattress dip beside you. The movement caused your eyes to flutter open. Not that you've been asleep anyway. Not properly at least. Merely dozing.

"Daryl?" You whispered into the darkness; receiving an answer almost instantly. "Y/N? Yer awake?" You heard your partner move underneath the blanket. "Did I wake ya?" You shifted as well and stretched out an arm to switch on your bedside lamp. "No, you didn't," you shook your head and turned to face the archer. "I haven't been sleeping at all. You know it's hard for me to find sleep without you being close."

A soft smile darted across Daryl's lips.

"Yeah, I know," he said lowly and slipped his fingers through yours; lazily intertwining your hands. "'M sorry 'bout this. All 'a it." You shook your head a second time, "Don't be, please." and lifted your joined hands to your lips to plant small kisses on his knuckles. "It's not your fault. I just... I have to get used to this, I think. You having a job now and always needing to be on call." Daryl chewed on the inside of his bottom lip and listened to your words closely. "'S a lot to take in, yeah..." He agreed.

A moment of silence passed between you, before a sigh left your lips.

"It sucked nevertheless. I was so close and then the bubble just bursted; deflagrated into nothingness." Daryl's expression softened. "'M sorry, sweet girl." His thumb started to rub gentle circles into your blanket covered hip as an idea suddenly crossed the archer's mind. The best he had today, without a doubt.

He smiled, "But 'm gonna make it up to ya. Promise." and threw his blanket aside - what made you think he wanted to get up again. "Oh, I almost forgot... Leftovers from dinner are in the fridge, if you're craving a midnight 'snack'."

You had clearly misread the sign, and were left in confusion as Daryl's smile morphed into a smirk; hands working to move your blanket out of the way as well. "Nah, sunshine," he stated and maneuvered his bulky frame between your legs. "There's jus' one meal 'm cravin' right now..." The archer sat on his knees, "'N I ain't goin' to find it in the fridge." and dipped his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against the bare, smooth skin of your stomach - just underneath your belly button, where your sleep shirt has rode up, while simultaneously hooking his fingers underneath your panties to pull them down.

And the penny dropped. Now you knew what he had in mind.

Your breath hitched in your throat; anticipation and that well known tingling sensation returning. Even more so as you watched Daryl settling down after discarding the unwelcome piece of clothing, with your legs draped over his shoulders. A wave of arousal crashed into you at the mere sight alone - twice as high as earlier. "Nothin's gonna keep me away from ya this time, sweet girl," he whispered huskily and peppered the inside of your thighs with kisses; his goatee scratching the sensitive skin. "I ain't stoppin'. Dun care if the Commonwealth burns down 'round us or worse..." His stunning blue eyes looked up to meet yours; almost managing to take your breath away. They were filled with love and desire. "'M all yours."

You didn't find any words to say, so you just smiled down at him lovingly; letting him know silently how much you treasured him and this moment.

His eyes never left yours - not even for a second, as he finally dove in. You gasped; his name falling from your lips like a prayer. One hand grasped his wrist around your upper thigh, the other gripped the bedsheets tightly. Daryl hummed as your flavor hit his taste buds. "O-Oh..." Your eyes closed shut at the pleasuring sensation. He just smirked against you; loving how fast he was able to make you feel good - but he could do better. He was aware of that. So, he put his skills to use; knowing exactly which buttons needed to be pressed. He had learned over the years. Had studied your body several times.

When the archer said he was going to make it up to you, he really meant it. His tongue carried you from one high to the next. He merely gave you any breaks to recover; too lost in the way you felt. Too lost in you.

You enjoyed the pleasure he granted you - until it got too much...

"B-Babe..." You stammered; breathlessly and almost deliriously. "S-Stop, please... T-Too much..." Daryl's hazy, wide-blown eyes instantly looked up at you and he stopped right away; lifted his mouth off of you. "'M sorry, sweet girl. Did I go too hard on ya? Ya a'right?" He asked concerned; his thumbs starting to rub gentle circles into your thighs. You shook your head. "N-No, I love it! It's just too much now. I, uh, need a break." Knowing that you are okay, Daryl gave you that boyish half-smile. "Did I wear ya out already, sunshine?" You playfully rolled your eyes and slapped his arm as a giggle escaped your lips. "Shuddup." The archer just chuckled as well and dipped his head once more, but this time to pepper your lower abdomen with a million tiny kisses. Your hands went instinctively to his arms wrapped around your legs; caressing those strong, firm muscles.

The both of you stayed like that for quite a few minutes in silence. Your palms on his biceps and his chin resting on your stomach.

"Thanks for this, baby. You definitely made it up to me," you spoke into the quiet, dimly lit room and gently squeezed his upper arms. Daryl shook his head; tickling your skin with the greyish hairs of his goatee. "Oh, 'm not done with ya yet, sweet girl." You breathed out a laugh. "Thought so, but... Perhaps we can skip to the main event? I think it's time for you to feel good, too, huh?" Your partner pressed another kiss against your abdomen. "If ya want tha'..." You nodded. "Please..." The archer gave you a soft smile and shifted; getting up into a kneeling position.

Where his upper body had been mere seconds ago, was now the center of his body.

It looked at me first, you swore to yourself as your gaze got drawn in by the straining underwear around his hips. The dark blue fabric held a big, round unmistakable wet spot. Biting your lip, you sat up as well; your hands instantly finding their way to the waistband of his boxer shorts. You smiled, while Daryl watched with hooded eyes and parted lips how your fingers slid the way too tight and uncomfortable fabric down his thighs. Then you laid back down on the mattress; beckoning your partner to come closer with a come-hither motion.

"C'mere, big boy."

A low growl paved its way past Daryl's lips at your words; managing to turn him on even more. Only god knew why.

It wasn't a lie, though. He simply was big - in every aspect.

The archer didn't let himself tell that twice, of course. He quickly shoved his underwear the rest of the way down and kicked it off with his feet. Crawling between your legs, his lips found yours on an instant; trapping them in a sensual kiss. Your arms wound themselves around his torso, with your palms resting on his broad shoulder blades. "Daryl...," you whispered - pleading, as your hands explored his broad back; feeling his muscles and the bumps which were his scars. Daryl didn't say a word and just planted a sloppy kiss upon your lips, before he adjusted his position to connect his body with yours. A hiss escaped your mouth; followed by a stuttering gasp. You still felt the aftermath of Daryl's... groundwork. "Ya okay?" His loving, quiet voice urged to your ears and you nodded, but gripped him tighter - closer. All you wanted was to feel him.

"Good," the archer whispered and kissed your cheek. With both forearms firmly planted on the mattress beside your shoulders, Daryl started to roll his hips in gentle waves. You furrowed your brows in pleasure, while the man above you buried his head in your neck; kissing the sensitive skin.

It was so intense and filled with raw emotions, you could barely take it. All your senses were heightened, but all you could feel, taste and see was Daryl. The world had stopped to turn around you. It was just you and him.

Nevertheless, you wanted more. Feel more of your partner. So, you let your palms glide back up over his shoulders to bury them in his tied back hair; gently nudging his head up again. The archer gladly took the invitation and rested his forehead against yours. His eyes were only halfway open. Lips parted. You felt his hot, irregular breath against your face; the remains of the last cigarette he smoked lingering in the air. Daryl already looked so blissed out - a view you hadn't seen in a while. A view which caused the butterflies in your stomach to run wild.

Cupping his beardy cheeks, you freed his face from a few loose strands, which had managed to escape his man bun. "D-Dar...," you whined; feeling that knot in your belly close to snapping. He nodded meekly, "I know, sunshine. M-Me, too." and kissed you clumsily, before he delivered a few last thrusts to send the both of you together flying over the edge of the cliff. A mute cry left your throat; bottom lip still loosely trapped between his lips. Daryl whimpered and squeezed his eyes entirely shut again; biceps working hard to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you.

Once your brain was mostly cleared from the fog, your thumbs began to caress Daryl's cheeks; feeling his stubble against your skin. You lifted your gaze - just to see him reopening his eyes. You smiled. The archer did the same. "I love you," you whispered. He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I love ya, too, sweet girl."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixons-sunshine @dixonsdarkelf @fictive-sl0th @ffsjustletmesleep @huntedmusicgardenn @km-ffluv @whore4romance @erebus-et-eigengrau @making-the-most-0f-it @secretsicanthideanymore @stitchintimefan @sweetz1919 @0-aubrie0 @loz-3 @belitoxx @marvelcasey05 @bigbaldheadname @mikaela-granger @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007

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sleepymarimo · 1 year ago

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𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥!

read cw! summary: how the straw hat pirates treat you, a free use member of the crew pairing: straw hat crew x afab!reader, appropriate characters only ofc! cw: mdni, free use, multiple partners, vaginal sex, oral (m! and f! recieving), creampies, fingering, handjobs, groping, sex machines, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, bondage an: this shit rated... porn. yes im sorry this is posted so late pls forgive me guys i love y'all wc: 2.8k+ for kinktober '23!

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘, as hyper and excitable as he is, doesn't fuck you as often as you thought he would. no, the captain can't say that he's particularly interested in sex.

however, what he loves to do, nearly everyday, is grope you. his hands always scramble to squeeze at your tits or ass, your tummy or thighs, and he'll do it at almost any time of day. when it came to this whole arrangement between you and the crew, he appeared to be the most shameless.

his rubber limbs seemed to sneak up on you at the most random times of day, his head poking out from around a corner and giving you a cheeky smile.

when he does use you for more than a grope or touch, it's always fun- a mutual experience that, more often than not, leaves you both laughing.

is willing to share! if he sees you busy with someone else, he'll interrupt without thought, be it with a smack to your ass or squeeze of your breasts

sometimes he'll let you wear the hat, usually if he's in a particularly good mood

sweet, fun and spontaneous. doesn't really mark you up, intentionally anyway, nor is he ever too rough. he'll make jokes, stretch in odd ways and makes sure you always have a smile on your face

an unintentional exhibitionist. he'll grope and fuck you anywhere, thinking it's funny watching people catch you. he's been yelled at by nami for it, though

finishes everywhere and anywhere, usually getting too caught up in the moment to really care. he's messy, not thinking twice about cumming on your face, in your mouth or on your breasts

likes overstimulating you, pushing you to your limits for the sake of fun

foreplay is not the best. sometimes he just gets too excited and uses his saliva to prep you. aftercare is a lot better! he'll get cuddly and bring snacks, becoming quite clingy with you

at first, 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 doesn't really take advantage of the free use arrangement. he's rather indifferent about it, perhaps not seeing the appeal.

that all changes after a battle that was much too close, his adrenaline running high. he throws you over his shoulder, harshly tossing you onto the bed and working to get his clothes off while growling at you to get on all fours.

he briefly remembers overhearing you talk to the girls about your times with sanji, and he makes it a mission to outdo the cook in any way he can.

you never know when he'll strike, but when you're standing on the deck and suddenly feel goosebumps rising on your skin, you know just to bend over

acknowledges that you're up for free use, but he's selfish. if he gets the urge and you happen to be with someone else, he'll most likely huff out an 'oi, move over' and get to it. usually though, he prefers to have you to himself, with your attention only on him

after a session with zoro, you'll likely be leaving with bites and bruises. he knows sanji's 'schedule' with you and intentionally fucks you beforehand, wanting to piss off the cook by leaving marks on you

had to be educated on foreplay! the others got mad at him when he put you out of commission for a few days, since he didn't prep you enough. could also use some work with aftercare, since he usually falls asleep

more than okay with taking advantage of the agreement in the sense that he allows himself to be a little bossy, as if it were a transaction (which it kind of is...)

lots of orders and quick commands. a deal is a deal, and he doesn't really build some sort of special attachment with you (like a certain cook will)

finishes in you or on your ass without fail. is pretty smug about it, mostly because he knows that the cook is going to be licking it up from you later

difficult to predict when he'll need you. could be a few times a day or twice a week or once a month. more likely to engage if he's drunk, just had a battle or if he knows sanji is near

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 has a pretty regular schedule when it comes to using you. with what she has to deal with on the ship, she wants nothing more than to plop onto bed, spread her legs and have you eat her out.

she doesn't hesitate to give you orders, somehow doing it in a way that's so sweet that you forget she's simply using you to get off. like luffy, shes also pretty big on groping, or at least, more than you'd expect.

a lot of 'innocent' touches. soft and curious pokes to your ass as you walk by. maybe a squeeze of your tits while the two of you hugged.

she's a touchy woman, up for cuddling and keeping you in the girl's cabin. nami knows the effect she has on you, using it to her advantage. when her cunning hands, she'll feel you up and give you compliments in that sultry tone of hers- the one she uses to get what she wants.

not a fan of sharing, especially with the guys. she is, however, more than willing to share with robin. with the three of you in the girl's quarters, things get pretty intense

very much a tease! she gets you worked up with the lightest of touches until you're begging her for more. nami makes you work for it

the navigator doesn't mind getting messy. she'll finger you, coax you into sucking them dry, then do it all over again. she likes spreading your wetness around, making a point to tease you about how excited you are

'better than all those dirty boys, right?'

head pusher and hair puller. when you're giving her oral, she isn't shy about letting you know what she wants

she likes being treated like a queen, obviously. nami feels high and mighty when you eat her out two or three times in a row, but when she sees how desperate you are for release, she starts coddling you and is quick to return the favor

is the first one to make you squirt, putting the guys to shame

nami is a busy woman. she mostly has you eat her out when she's stressed during the day, cuddles for a bit, then gets back to it. better with foreplay than she is with aftercare, but its fantastic all around

always seeming to hesitate would be 𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏, who thinks that for some reason, you'll say no to his advances. even after weeks of the arrangement being in place, he'll always ask if what he does is okay.

he’s so so sweet! he touches you like it’s the first time, every time. the sniper is prone to getting heavy bouts of confidence though! with shaky breaths, he’d ask you if he made you feel better than your captain. hell, he loves it when you call him captain.

when he does find it in him to be brave, he always manages to surprise you. he creates all sorts of contraptions, with sex being lighthearted and fun as you go through his projects together.

loves to restrain you, to feel like he has control of you. you help him grow more comfortable and confident, which he appreciates. plus, he gets to let out that pervy side of him that he usually tucks away.

reluctant to share, mostly because he doesn't want to be outdone. however, he and luffy sometimes team up to give you quite the fun experience. lots of jokes and just a hint of playful competitiveness, all of which leave you nothing short of satiated

uses you on a weekly basis, but cozies up to you nearly everyday. he makes jokes about what he has in store for you, making promises of pleasure that leave your stomach in knots

an unintentional marker. might spank you too hard or leave a bruise, which makes him wheeze in embarrassment before he feels a swell of pride. a sort of 'i did that?!' to 'oh… i did that'

ties you up in all sorts of ways

he really does get off on your whines and moans. likes when you're loud

loves when you give him head. the control he has, combined with your sole focus on him, drives him crazy

the sound of you gagging on his cock turns him on more than he'd ever admit. he'll get a confidence burst and start to be more rough

loves finishing down your throat. he feels so confident and cocky, but as soon as he cums he's nervously asking if you're okay

good with foreplay and even better with aftercare… worries about your well-being and shows his gratitude toward you and your willingness to participate. tells you stories after you're all done, lulling you to sleep

when the arrangement was finalized, 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 was one of the first to take advantage of it. nearly every day he indulges in the sweetness you offer. eating you out is a must! even though sanji is aware that this is just an agreement of sorts, it doesn't stop him from growing a little more attached to you.

sex with him is all encompassing and intense in the softest way possible. he does a good job of making you feel prioritized and wanted, beyond the scope of the free use deal. he's more attentive to your desires and how you want to get fucked on any given day.

truthfully, he's just happy to be able to serve you. funny enough, he tries to be respectful when it comes to groping you around the ship or in public. while luffy might be shameless in how he touches you, sanji does not want to make you uncomfortable or taint the 'lady-like' image he has of you.

he sees you as a meal which must be savored, after all.

sanji prefers more intimate sex, even if it's just an agreement. for this reason, he's not huge on sharing.

sometimes though, while he's getting hot and heavy with you, zoro will just barge in and remind the cook that you're free use, before just… joining

gets pissed off when he spreads your legs and sees zoro's cum leaking out of you. it doesn't stop him from lapping up each drop though, since nothing could keep him from that pussy of yours

sanji uses you on the daily. the cook's appetite is insatiable, but he always makes sure to prioritize your comfort and pleasure

such a sweet talker, swirling his tongue over your clit and insisting that you're the most precious person on the ship

likes leaving subtle marks on your body, on more intimate areas that you'll forget about until you're alone.

the spot below your ear, the insides of your thighs, the delicate skin of your wrist… he thinks that smaller bites and marks have their own charm. big ol' bruises on your collarbone or neck just seem so brutish!

finishes wherever you want him to. there are moments where he'll beg to cum inside your cunt, though. you gladly let him do so.

aftercare king. any food you want is yours. he'll draw a bath for you and eat you out one last time for good measure. gets irritated when he sees the others being too rough with you

miss 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 is a force to be reckoned with. it takes her a few days before she has her first session with you, not because she was hesitant, but because she was waiting. watching.

she can play the long game, reading your cues and how you behave after having sex with other members of the crew. once she's sure she can break you down, she takes you. sex with robin is always a dizzying experience, almost unreal. between the many hands caressing you all over, and that cat-like gaze of hers, it's hard not to lose yourself.

very much a dominant lover, though whether she's soft or mean depends on her mood. regardless, she takes pleasure in watching you writhe and come undone.

it's a power play, a control she isn't fond of relinquishing.

only shares you with nami, franky and occasionally jinbei (if he's up for it), mostly because they can read the mood and follow her lead

weekly user, perhaps thrice a week if she's feeling up for it. most of the time, she's content to get you worked up for her and her only.

you can try to run off to someone else, but she knows she brings a certain element to the bedroom that no one can match

robin is slow and steady, curling her fingers just right and pulling away when you're about to burst. she's the second member to get you to squirt

she's nice to you in the meanest way possible. a lot of 'my, you're quite excited today' and 'such a sweet little thing'

hands on you and your most sensitive areas at all times. rubbing your clit, twisting your nipples and stroking every inch of skin. it's a full body experience.

does not particularly care for marking you up, physically at least. she leaves her own prints on you, something more soul-binding that goes beyond bruises and bitemarks that are bound to fade

takes care of you well before and after sex. she doesn't really indulge in quickies, only having sex when she knows the two of you will have an extended period of time to really enjoy it

on a more serious note, robin is also the one to explain to chopper what is going on between you and the crew. it does seem odd to the little reindeer, but he makes sure to be ready with contraceptives or pelvic exams when you need them.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐘 always has something special whipped up for you. within the first few days of you agreeing to this free use agreement, he indulged in you.

his dirty mind runs free with you and he doesn't hesitate to try out some new toys. thrusting sex machines and vibrating saddles… he has so many prototypes that he loves watching you squirm on.

he's also been able to give himself…upgrades that make things even more interesting. his favorite would be his detachable dick. he'll attach it to machines, watching and feeling as it effortlessly works into you.

he's not shy about such matters, not at all. sex with him is fun and he does a wonderful job of making you feel high-spirited and confident. your enthusiasm feeds into his pervy side.

down to share with anyone, honestly. this cyborg is up for most anything, given that you are, too

has you on the daily, but you never know when. sometimes it's in the morning, other times while you're getting ready for bed. if he's just restocked his cola though, you can expect a round or two

gives you his detachable dick and lets you use it as a dildo, so he can feel your cunt around him even when he's working in the shop

he eats you out and makes it messy. he spits and slurps as if your cunt was cola-flavored

likes getting head the same way. the sight of you with drool lining your lips and chin, mouth stuffed with his dick... he might let out an 'ow!' right then and there

doesn't mark you up intentionally. he just does his thing and makes sure you feel good. if he happens to leave some marks, he doesn't think too much of it

gets a little pissed off when zoro or luffy mark you up too much. he thinks they don't have to be that rough...

enjoys cumming on your chest and breasts. he's a simple man with simple pleasures

big on foreplay, but could work on his aftercare. he likes getting you worked up, likes to see you eager, but afterwards he's just so out of it. usually falls asleep and maybe hooks an arm around you

resident pervert 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 does not hesitate. once the agreement was set into motion, your panties were quick to be snatched up.

the skeleton is a voyeur, preferring to watch as opposed to actively participating. even when you know he's spying on you, you pretend not to notice. whether it's you masturbating or having sex with another member of the crew, you can bet that he's peeping in.

brook is also very much into groping, never missing the opportunity to squeeze your plump flesh when you walk by.

truthfully, he just revels in being a pervert, especially when he knows there aren't any consequences.

up for sharing in the sense that he likes to watch. some members are more okay with it than others

he's scared the living daylights out of usopp, has been threatened by zoro and gotten encouragement from franky. he just laughs though, finding a thrill in getting caught

his eye (sockets?) are on you pretty frequently. at the end of everyday, he'll ask for your panties and pockets them with gusto

it's common for brook to ask for your panties after you're done having sex with someone else. he just thinks it's so naughty!

he'll walk by you and ask you to flash him, losing his mind every time you lift your shirt and show him your breasts

his groping is never hard enough to leave marks. he likes the squishy skin, since he's all bone, so he just has a hand on you and absentmindedly squeezes your breasts like you're a walking stress ball

like he always asks for your panties, he always asks for permission to touch and grope you

one of the most respectful would be 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐄𝐈. it takes him a while to settle into the whole arrangement. a part of him did see it as taboo, especially considering that he's a fishman.

however, he realizes that what he asks of you doesn't have to be inherently sexual. that's why, jinbei enjoys having you do mundane tasks for him, all while completely nude. his eyes are never lewd or hungry, but thoughtful as he watches you fold his clothes or make his bunk.

ever the respectful man, he doesn't want to leer at you as if you were an object. things build slowly and intimately between the two of you.

it starts as you wandering around without clothes, then it's mutual masturbation, then eventually he's fucking you.

this fishman prefers to have you to himself. he wants sex to happen in a comfortable atmosphere. it's a calming, almost therapeutic environment that he prefers to navigate you through, without the presence of others

would not mind if robin joined in, seeing as she's mature and would enjoy the vibes

he prefers not to have sex when he knows he's in a bad mood. he doesn't want to let such trivial, emotional matters guide him, but sometimes it's not avoidable, so…

marks come in the form of spanks, red patches on your ass that he's quick to soothe with a rough palm. it's a way for him to get his anger and frustration out, though the next day, once he's calmed down, he's quick to apologize

cumming inside you seems so taboo that he finds himself doing it more than he should. it's a guilty pleasure that he denies himself less and less as time goes on

sex is weekly, sometimes less. he has a fairly good handle on himself and makes it a point not to lose himself in pure lust.

he also very much takes into consideration that you're busy with others, so he doesn't want to overwhelm you

once this little arrangement is finalized, ��𝐎𝐔 never worry about being alone or untended to. they know better than to leave their little free use doll unsatisfied.

when you're sick or unwell, it's everyone's problem. though you're the one being used, you're so protected and well cared for, like their secret treasure.

even if some don't explicitly express their gratitude, anyone can acknowledge that this agreement takes a toll on you in one way or another.

luffy lends you his hat, zoro shares his sake, nami loans you money, usopp makes you trinkets, sanji lets you get first pick on dessert, robin teaches you how to read poneglyphs, franky designs machines for you, brook plays you special tunes and jinbei lets you ride on all the whale sharks you want.

overall, it's a pretty sweet deal!

taglist: @queen-of-elves, @who-the-hockeysticks, @sxhy-town, @flower-hua, @iwannachokeontojifushiguroscock (thank y'all for being patient 🫶)

#one piece smut #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #robin x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #jinbei x reader

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