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retroellie · 9 months ago

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Little black dress

Summary: After wearing a little black dress that gave nothing to the imagination, Daryl decides to drag you to the bathroom and remind you who you belong too.

A/N: It's been awhile y'all! Omfg, I have been so busy writing a book that started out as a passion project but now I'm like really into it lol. But this is filth, and honestly took me 6 days to write no mf joke. It didn't really read through it so it might be messy lol, anyways miss y'all!! enjoyyy <3 (also it is so fucking long, omfg...I'm used to writing long chapters in my book HKAHKSHFJA)

Warnings: Sexual harassment, public sex, face fucking, unprotected sex, BDSM, mentions of SA (kinda?), just men being gross tbh, dirty talk

Word count: 13.7K

It had been years since you actually had to worry about what you were wearing, even longer since you had to dress presentable. But here you were, caressing every inch of your body trying to decide if your short black dress was "presentable" or plain slutty. You were teetering towards plain slutty, the way it hugged your curves slightly... showed a bit too much of your scared-up legs, you're breast perking to attention as if they were made just for it.

You examined your body, wondering what everyone would say if you showed up to something so classy wearing this. The dress code was nothing special, "Halloween costumes and formal!" the flyer said. You had nothing that would be considered either of those, maybe you're old bloodied shirts from before the commonwealth... you could dress like a walker. However, you had to look approachable... as if you were a reporter of some sorts.

You sigh softly, brushing your hair from your face as you exited the bathroom. You don't even know why you cared so much, it's not like you actually wanted to go to this stupid ball. You were only going because you were helping Connie out with her story. You promised her that you would talk to some people there, and write down their opinions of the commonwealth. You told her you would look presentable and approachable, something you didn't look very often.

"Plain slutty" wasn't a bad thing, before the fall you would dress that way on a night out anyway... But you weren't who you were back then. You didn't want all the male or female attention, especially in a new town like this. They would whisper, they would gossip... no matter how pretty you looked in your cheap dress, you knew they would be merciless.

You walked to yours and Daryl's shared room, grabbing your bag you've had since the fall... it didn't match the outfit at all but you needed something to remind you who you actually were. You placed the bag on your shoulder, turning around only for your attention to be drawn to something shiny on your bed. Your husband's knife...

"At least Daryl will be there." You thought to yourself, biting your lip softly as you stared down at the knife. This new life has been a fairytale almost, almost like the entire apocalypse thing never actually happened... like you and Daryl were just a normal married couple with normal problems. It was so weird worrying about small things again, like what you were going to wear for this stupid masquerade ball.

You two had been "married" since you became a part of the commonwealth. It was strange, especially since everyone called you "Mrs. Dixon". You had been with Daryl for around 7 years, but you weren't married. However, when coming to the commonwealth there was an option for you two to be married "legally". You couldn't help but laugh when they brought it up, there was no government, and there was no "marriage" anymore. They were dead serious though, looking as if you were crazy when you laughed in their face. But you signed the papers basically stating yours and Daryl's "marriage"... so now you guys just are.

Daryl was a security guard at the ball, leaving much earlier than you to go do his job, so he had yet to see the way the dress showed off what was his. Suddenly your mind went another way, remembering the last time you wore a low-cut shirt or too short shorts... It was a decision that had you wobbling for 3 days, kiss bitten down to your calves and completely fucked. You blushed at the thought of it, hoping you could get through the night without Daryl scolding you for the too-short dress. Maybe you wanted that... maybe you wanted to tease him.

Daryl was completely comfortable in the relationship, he had no real problem with you showing your body off sometimes. But if anyone knew how a man could think, it would be Daryl. He knew the disgusting thoughts that would go through a man's mind when they saw a woman's upper leg... He knew just how they could spin that to make it sexually gratifying. It made him sick to his stomach knowing what men think when they see you... he fucks his anger out, hard and fast just like how those men think they can do to you... only he's the one doing it.

You shook the thought away from your head, making your way down the hallway of your dingy apartment. You realized how sad and depressing your apartment was, you made a mental note to get some art or posters to hang up... you needed to make this apartment into a home, or at least something ya'll feel safe coming home to. You passed by Judith and Rj's room, peeking in to make sure everything was in check... "in check" meant there was no one or thing hidden within it. The fall had done that to you, made you cautious, and made you the type of person to make sure each room was clear before leaving. Even though you personally went through every inch of the house trying to find RJ's hat just this morning... you just had to make sure there were no changes.

You finally were able to leave the apartment after making sure the door was locked 4 times. It was a short walk to the ball, about a 7-minute walk, but with heels on it was 15 minutes. You were never much of a heel walker before the fall, you envied women who could... but you never got that walk down. You would have killed to look so classy in heels, but you never got that kind of feminine gene. So you took it slow, walking with caution as you brought down your foot for each step. You looked stupid, maybe even drunk to some of the passersby.

You finally made it though, only 10 minutes late... but you found Connie and Kelly waiting for you at the entrance. You gave them a small smile, wobbling over to them. You were super close with Kelly and Connie, ever since they stepped foot in Alexandria... you guys were insufferable. So it didn't come as a surprise for Connie to come to you first when she needed help gathering "stories", which really meant gathering dirt about Pamela. You were more than happy to do it, it was something to get you out of the house and even landed you getting an invite to the most talked-about party of the year.

As you wobbled to the 2 women, it seemed as if you took them off guard for a second, completely unrecognizable as they didn't know who you were. It wasn't until you got closer that they saw who you were.

"Y/n?" Kelly asked, almost in disbelief that you could get all dolled up like that. "Jesus I could hardly recognize you with all that... boob."

You looked down at your figure, seeing just how different it was from your usual attire. It was strange being this... naked. You started to feel a bit uncomfortable, almost nauseous as you looked down at your heels. You weren't used to attention, you were but you weren't. You are not the ugliest person out there and you know that, people seemed to think quite the opposite which you didn't really agree with. You would catch people looking at your ass while walking past them or catching a feel of your breast while hiding from hoards.

You were no stranger to that attention, hell that's even how you and Daryl became what you were. Daryl couldn't keep his eyes off your hips and your lumps... that's the only attention you wanted though. The rest of them, it didn't matter to you. You could live without it, you were over wanting that attention just to validate yourself... that was in the past for you.

"what? Is it too much?" You asked, pulling your dress up just for it to almost flash your ass to the world, causing you to pull it back down just for your boobs to pop out again. There was no winning in the dress.

You searched both of the women's faces, hoping they would say all they needed to say. Kelly's eyes were focused on your face, probably noticing the cat-eye look you were trying to do... which used to be your specialty, but now you're out of practice. She was probably not used to seeing your lips so red as well, which that part is what you were most proud of simply because you made the mix yourself. You wondered what she was thinking, maybe you should run home and put on some normal clothes. Maybe this was a bad idea and you should have just stayed home. Connie brought a hand to your arm, bringing you back to reality.

"No! You look beautiful." She signed, making you feel a bit better. "Thank you for helping Y/n."

All of your worries slowly melted away just by this gesture, making you relax a bit. As said before, Connie was one of your best friends, you even learned sign language from her. Ever since you met her, she was always so gentle with you. No one really understood your insecurities or your panic attacks or the reason why you were so damn quiet all the time... but Connie did. She read you like a book, you hated it... but it was nice to know that someone could. Especially someone like Connie who would speak up for you if you needed her to. She knew you could never stand up for yourself.

You just gave her a small smile, nodding your head basically telling her that you were okay and you could do this. It was just for a night and you've taken out hordes, you've bashed a man's head in with his own leg bone before... you can take a night in a skimpy dress, you can take the attention it will give you. Plus Daryl was there, he would kill a man for touching you if he needed to and he has before. So you felt more than comfortable walking into that door and forcing stories out of men to get dirt on their leader.

"Yeah, well I'm your girl when you need to get information out of a man." You said, trying to lighten up the mood even if you were the one who needed some lightening up. "All you need is a small waist and huge knockers, Take notes ladies."

Connie and Kelly both let out laughs, boosting your confidence a bit. You smiled softly at their laughs, looking at the doors and seeing how crowded they were getting. Women in big dresses and men with fancy little tuxedos made their way into the double doors, Some were even wearing their own handmade Halloween costumes. They all were trying to get into the door, only to be met with the security who had to pat them down for weapons and whatnot. You once again felt a wave of relief, knowing you weren't the only ridiculous-looking one there. You suddenly were so thankful for it being Halloween. You sighed softly, putting your smile back on as you looked back at Kelly and Connie.

"We should probably get in before the line gets too long." You spoke, signing as you did so.

You all made your way to the double doors, Connie's hand on your arm as a way to make sure that you knew she was there with you. You appreciated it, this was a big crowd of actual people and you weren't used to that... especially with live people. You knew this night was going to suck, you were probably going to be a nervous wreck by the end of it. But at least there will be alcohol.

“But seriously, Y/N…” Kelly’s voice cut through your distraction, drawing you away from the parade of ridiculous-looking rich people. Her eyes were fixed on you, a playful suspicion lacing her tone. “You don’t strike me as the type to pull off this kind of glam… were you some kind of model or something?"

You just let out a soft laugh, walking up the stairs to the soft light illuminating the doors. You couldn't help but let your mind linger on your past. It wasn't something you were proud of that's for sure, you were a mess. You were freshly out of high school, going to college away from home so it was pretty much guaranteed that you would be doing something you would grow to regret. You would do it all... men, women, drugs, alcohol, partying until the crack ass of dawn.

It was a time in your life that was so confusing and being around people who were half your age, you weren't sure what was right and what was wrong. That phase lasted until you found Daryl, suddenly something inside you switched. He was nothing but soft and gentle with you, at least as soft and gentle as he could be. You meant something to him and that's when you realized that you weren't some drunk college girl that men and women could tear down for their own pleasure. You were someone, and that was enough.

There had been countless nights where Daryl had to carve that fact onto your skin, kiss your soft lips until you could say nothing but who you were, fuck it into you. You had lots to work on, Daryl did too... that's what made you two such a power couple. You worked on your shit together, made sure the other knew where they stood in life... who they were and who they weren't even though multiple untrue things have been drilled into your heads. You let the thought wander through your head before coming back to the moment.

"I am full of surprises." You joke back. You knew you could tell her what you really were back then, you're confused and you're hurt... but you left it at that.

The night went too slow for your liking, not even halfway through the night you were at your limit with men and you were ready to go home. As you sat at the bar, sipping on some fruity drink one of many men had bought for you, you pulled out your notepad from your dirty bag. It was almost empty, only 3 stories collected simply because the men were too focused on the way your dress laid against your breast. You swore you talked to almost 20 men tonight and only 3 of them actually had the decency to keep their eyes to themselves and answer your questions.

Most of the men didn't want to hear you talk, they just wanted to undress you with their eyes. You gagged at the thought every single time, even more disgusted by how some of them thought it was their right to put their hands on you. You could still feel a hand on the small of your back or placed softly on your hip. This dress started to feel like not a good idea and you should have caved into your desire to change into something different. You will say, that at least a lot of the men bought you drinks... you could have only gotten through this night with "Sex on the Beach" and "Strawberry Daiquiri". You would much rather have whiskey if you were being honest, you had been hanging out with Daryl too much.

You started to read through the notes you wrote down, jotting down some keywords in their stories so Connie could rearrange them for her story against Pamela. You were almost halfway through the second story and your 3rd Strawberry Daiquiri when you felt a hand on the small of your back once more.

"My, my... ya here all by yourself sweetheart?" You heard a deep voice say, you could almost feel their breath on your neck.

You jumped at the sudden touching, yelping as you turned around in the spinny bar chair. You were ready to swing on the perpetrator, you were too frustrated and grossed out to have another man try to get into your pants tonight. You lifted your hand up, ready to slap the shit out of the man... only for your hand to fall back down as soon as it went up.

It was Daryl. His shit-eating grin spread on his face as he chuckled softly at your sudden burst of violence. Little does he know, he's not the only guy tonight to say those same words and touch the same spot just above your ass. You would probably tell him later, but for now, you kept it to yourself... you knew he'd be furious, probably dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you till you couldn't walk properly anymore. The more you think about it, the more you want that to happen.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes softly and leaning against the bar. You were so glad to see him though, you hadn't seen him all night. You tried looking but you were far too busy trying not to get groped by old men or beat up by their wives. You knew this night would have been 100% better if you found Daryl earlier, he would have really made the night somewhat fun or maybe at least been your bodyguard.

"Not alone... My deadbeat husband is somewhere around here." You joke, turning back around to face your notes.

You could hear Daryl chuckle behind you, he set himself between you and the empty chair next to him. He looked down at your notes and your 3 empty cups, he knew these were not your first and definitely not your last drinks of the night... then his eyes trailed down to your dress. You had told him you would be here and what you were doing here, but he didn't know just how you were going to show up. The dress was going to get you in trouble, especially with the way that it caused Daryl's pants to tighten.

His eyes drifted down your body, the sight of your almost bare breast made him almost choke on his own tongue. Daryl watched as you brought the last bit of drink from one of your cups, watching you slurp it down. He let out a soft cough, clearing his throat as if it would clear the thoughts of what those lips could do.

"Deadbeat, huh?" he started, watching you bring the cup back down to the bar counter. You licked your lips, getting every ounce of the alcohol from it. "Well then, your deadbeat husband should be ashamed of letting you go out in something like that."

He brought his hand up to touch the fabric of it softly, placing his hand on your hip and giving it a soft squeeze. You tried to stay up straight, even if the alcohol was creating a glorious feeling between your legs that made you feel like you could melt into his touch. Even the smallest of gestures from Daryl could have you at his feet, just the tiniest softest touch could create a fire deep within you. You were feeling bold tonight though, maybe it was just the 7 drinks you had but something within you burned with the need to be devoured.

You bit your lip softly, feeling the loose skin that resided there. You looked up to him, eyes full of lust. Daryl couldn't help but feel the same kind of fire erupts in the pits of his stomach. Your glazed-over eyes, the smell of the pure alcohol that he knew was affecting your ability to think, the way the black dress was still on you even though he wanted it off. You leaned in close to him, his hand still wrapped around your hip softly.

"if only he was here to put me in my place." You spoke, words flowing off your tongue like honey.

Daryl let out a soft breath, his clothes suddenly feeling so constricting against his skin. He never knew all he needed to do was get a couple of fruity drinks in your system for you to be so... feral. It made all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock, making the head of it rub up against his jeans so uncomfortably. You were everything but a perfect angel... you knew how to talk dirty, you knew how to get Daryl's cock up and ready to pound into the first hole he could get to. But something about the way your tits looked in your dress and every single man wanting to tear you apart with their bare teeth... and yet you only wanted Daryl to fuck you in the ways only these men can dream.

Daryl looked around, being sure of his surroundings before making any stupid decision he knew he would make with you. No one was paying any attention to him... some of the men you talked to earlier were still trying to catch a peak, hoping that maybe your thighs would spread wide enough so they could see just in between them. So they could store it in their minds and use it for spank material when they need a little push. That made Daryl's breath get heavy, hands shaking slightly on your hip as you leaned closer into him... he could smell a hint of your perfume and it was giving him a slight high.

Daryl looked back down at you, seeing your soft stare... watching your eyes move down his body and then back up to his eyes. Daryl placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing it softly as he debated on dragging you somewhere more private. His lips ached, his cock already leaking with need... if anything could make daryl dixon be reckless, it was you. He almost gave into you, almost engulfed your lips with his, and made you whimper... made you his in front of everyone. However, something caught his eye... his abandoned post.

He was supposed to be guarding the door, making sure no one else came in, and making sure everyone was on their best behavior. Rosita was there, on one side of the door as she too watched the dance floor. He had a job to do, a very important one that would have you both moving up in life if he did it right. He shouldn't even have left in the first place, but something about the way your thighs looked from afar... he found himself stalking towards you just to get a better look at them. He let out a soft smile, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before he retracted away from you.

"Ya look beautiful sweetheart..." He said simply, giving your body one last glance before stepping away from you completely. He could feel your energy fall slightly as you groaned at the loss of warmth... your dress did nothing to cover you up, so his warmth was appreciated. "I gotta go do my job, I just wanted to see you before I got too busy."

You wanted to pout, you wanted to kick your feet and scream like a child... that's how drunk you were, you would beg for him if he wanted you to. You didn't find that fair that Daryl could get you going, put his hands on you, and warm you up just to pull away like it was nothing. You were too drunk, too cock starved, too horny to let him leave you like this. Your legs were wobbling already, you're cunt throbbed and every time you would move your legs it would create irritating friction that you wish were from his fingers. You sighed softly, not done with this just yet...

"Well that's too bad..." You said, hopping down from the bar stool. Your dress came up a little too high, showing just below your ass. You pulled it down, which once again caused your breasts to pop out... but this time you wanted them too. You watched as his eyes focused on them. "I'm wearing my best panties... I was really hoping someone could help me put them to use."

You sighed dramatically, grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. Daryl gulped back a comeback because there was nothing good that was going to come out of his mouth. He was torn between two nasty names.... some of the most degrading names he could think of. All he wanted to do was slam you against the bar counter, tell you how fucking slutty and how much of a fucking whore you were... 2 things he knew you loved, he knew it made you weak in your knees just thinking about it. But he had to keep it cool, y'all were in public and he would like to keep those names between the two of you.

You stepped up to him, looking down at his obvious erection... you smirked to yourself knowing just by your words you did that. You looked back up to his eyes, reaching up to adjust the buttons on his shirt and patting his shirt down. You could tell just by his eyes what he was planning on doing to you, you could tell you were in trouble. You leaned up to his ear, standing on your tiptoes just to make sure he was the only one to hear.

"I will be in the men's bathroom if you need me..." You whispered, pecking his cheek with your lips just as he did to you. You swear you could see his eyes twitch, his anger rising within him as you teased him softly. You gave him a soft smile. "I hope to see you soon, Mr. Dixon."

You said, teasing him even further and not giving him any time to even react to your words before you walked away. You could feel some eyes on you as you walked away, except they weren't Daryls... they were the countless men that weren't Daryl, their eyes boring into your skin but you paid no attention... they weren't your target audience right now.

You were able to slip into the men's bathroom without anyone noticing, which was tricky since every man and women's eyes were on you the entirety of the night. You knew you would get some attention but the amount you got was overwhelming... you forget sometimes that a lot of these people have been in the commonwealth since the fall, most never experiencing the horrors just outside of their walls. So when a woman who is covered in scars speaks so confidently to them, it is intriguing. Not to mention the way your body curves, how it dips and stands out so perfectly. Not a lot of women in the commonwealth have that kind of "fighting for your life" kind of body type.

You open the door to the men's bathroom, slipping in before anyone notices you even did. You choose the men's bathroom simply because you knew it would be easier for Daryl to slip into and away from his post for a bit, allowing him some time to fuck the shit out of you. Luckily the bathroom was empty but you didn't spend too much time making sure since you knew someone could walk in at any minute, so you entered one of the stalls and locked it.

The bathroom was one of those nice ones you see in fancy restaurants, the stalls were almost like little rooms that only held a toilet and a trash can. The walls surrounding the toilet were painted a cream color and went all the way to the ceiling down to the floor. These were the types of bathrooms that were perfect for fucking if you're being honest, I mean the privacy... it was almost as if they were made for horny couples who need to let some steam off.

You sat on the toilet, imagining all the possibilities and positions you could find yourself in the small confinement of the 3 walls and door. Your eyes locked themselves on the door which was the only "stall-like" thing in the small area. There was a large gap between the door and the floor, making it so you were able to see the shoes of people who walked by. Luckily you could see none, but the anticipation of seeing those black boots with the mix-match shoe laces... Jesus, you hoped he would come, you didn't even give him time to answer.

In this moment, the anticipation and the hope you don't get caught brought you back to when you and Daryl started seeing each other. while on runs or even around the small time you and the group were on the road... Daryl would get sexually frustrated from watching you, his cock rock hard and eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He would grab your shoulder, bringing his mouth as close to your ear as he could... growling into it that he needed you, ordering you to go to a secluded area and "wait like a good girl" for him. You were so needy for him that you did exactly that, sometimes waiting an hour before he showed up and fucked you into the dirty ground.

That was around the time when your relationship was kept hidden, Daryl's choice. He told you it was because of the 15-year age gap between the two of you, he was worried about the things that would be said about the two of you. It was strange for a 37-year-old man to be romantically involved with a 22-year-old. But deep down you didn't believe his words, you subconsciously knew it was because he didn't want to get close to you. He had this thing with trust, so it came natural for him not to want to trust you at first... he was okay with just fucking you and leaving you limp on the forest floor. However, somehow along the way... he fell so deeply and utterly in love with you, that now he feels ashamed if he has to hide you.

Suddenly, you were pulled from your thoughts when the bathroom door opened. A slight tingle made its way through your body and it wasn't the good kind. You placed your feet on the toilet along with your body, hoping the person didn't see your high heels, and called security to come to escort the woman in the men's bathroom out of the ball... that would be embarrassing. You heard the person's heavy footsteps, not able to see their shoes because of the walls of the small bathroom covering your view. You held your breath, trying to keep yourself quiet as the person made their way to the stalls.

You listened closely to the steps, hearing them walk closer and closer to your stall. Questions filled your mind, did someone see me come in here? Is it one of the men who now thinks this is his chance? Am I completely fucked and was this a bad idea? Fortunately, it didn't take too long for your questions to be answered because when the two heavy-duty work boots with the mix-match shoe laces appeared between the gap of the floor... your body relaxed slightly.

You chuckled softly at your worry, realizing how fucked the fall actually left you. You were expecting Daryl yet your mind went to the worst that could happen... Jesus, hopefully, the commonwealth will ease your paranoia.

Knock

knock

Those three knocks were too familiar to you. It was the knock you and Daryl used when hunting or when you holed up in a random cabin for the night... it was just a way for you two to say "Hey it's me. You're safe.". You smiled softly, standing from the toilet and wasting no time in opening the stall door. The stall door opened to reveal your angry-looking husband, he did not look too happy about the fact he had to fuck some sense into you while he had to do actually important things, like make a living for you two. You couldn't help but laugh softly at his face, how angry he looked... you were feeling the buzz of the alcohol throughout your body and it was hitting hard. You leaned yourself against the door frame, making sure your hips stood out as you did so.

"Mr. Dixon!" You exclaimed, almost as if you weren't waiting like a little dog would for its owner... You placed a hand on your hip, head laying against the door frame. "I didn't expect to see..."

You couldn't even get your words out before Daryl pushed you into the stall, shutting and locking the door behind him. He pushed you against the stall door, attacking your neck roughly. The warmth spread across your body, your body going limp for only a second before you threw your head back onto the stall door you were pushed against.

"Shut up..." He whispered into your neck, biting and sucking at your soft spots. He wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you in place as he worked his mouth on your neck.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying your best to stay up straight as he basically touched you in all the ways you craved. It was fast, very fast as he basically speed ran trying to make you as wet as he possibly could get you. You knew this was going to happen, you basically begged for it to happen... but that doesn't make you any less surprised by his sudden touch. He licked a strip up your neck, biting your ear lobe softly before going back to leaving down your neck... you knew this was his way of marking you up, making sure the mark would show so pretty on your neck in your black dress, scaring away the men's attention.

His kisses led down to your chest, leaving bite marks here and there as he did so. You could come undone from his abuse on your neck, your body arching into him as you tried so desperately to quiet your soft moans. Daryl pushed you further into the stall door before pulling your dress down, exposing your breast to him as he softly kissed down your body. He stopped his kisses, taking a moment to take in your squirming figure and how red you had gotten from just kissing. He leaned down, taking your breast in both of his hands, and squeezed them together before sucking on your already hardened nipples. It all happened so fast, making you not only drunk but also now high off sudden pleasure. Your hands went to his hair, pulling it softly as his soft sucking on your breast sent small zaps of pleasure straight to your clit.

He went back and forth between the right and the left, squeezing one while he sucked and licked the other. Your world was spinning, not sure if it was the 7 strawberry daiquiri or if it was the way his mouth felt on your tits. You could feel yourself getting so close to the edge, embarrassingly close... he barely even touched you and you were almost coming undone in your panties. You gave his hair a particular rough pull, trying to remove his mouth from your nipple... you were too close to the edge, not wanting to cum now... You didn't want to give Daryl an even bigger head than he already has when it came to making you feel good.

"Jesus... Daryl, I'm too drunk for the foreplay, just fuck me." You whispered out, your words shakey as you shivered from the cold air brushing against your now slobbered-up tits.

Daryl detached himself from you, your hands still in his hair as he did so. He tried to hide the smile from you but trust and believe the way you were begging made his own high come to him. He couldn't tell which one of you was drunk, and he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol this entire night. You leaned against the stall door, the lock from the door digging into your back. You squirm underneath his gaze, feeling his hands make their way back to your waist. Your tits are still standing to attention, red and puffy from his kisses.

You breathed heavily, looking into his lust-filled eyes as he brought his face closer to yours. You could feel his breath fan across your face, the smell of your shared toothpaste bringing memories of the nights you would have together in your small apartment... All the nights spent bent over the sink as he rammed his cock into you, praying Judith and rj were asleep, or even the days where you two just had to be with each other. So you filled the bath, lit some candles, and spent hours making out with each other... no fucking, no dry humping, no cumming onto each other. Just you two, taking in each other's presence and exchanging saliva.

"You beggin' me?" He whispered, lips hovering over yours as he spoke. You debated on reaching up, touching his lips with yours... speeding this entire thing up. But you couldn't deny you loved a long drawn-out fucking session in a fancy bathroom.

"No..." You teased, smiling up at him as you brought your face even closer. Your eyes make their rounds from his lip back to his eyes. "Simply asking for a favor."

You had a way of getting underneath Daryl's skin in the most delicious ways, with your innocent-looking eyes and your silky smooth voice. He knew better though, he knew you were far from innocent. Not only have you done things, murderous things that to this day you will never be able to repent from... but also sexual things that have the angels crying. You have allowed Daryl to fuck you on the dirty floor of an abandoned cabin while your people were only mere inches away from you. You have fucked him while covered in blood, even going as far as to cover yourself with more blood because it turned you on so much. You have asked to be held at gunpoint while you sucked his cock, asked to ride the handle of his knife, asked to be slapped in the face until your nose bleeds.

You liked pain, you loved every ounce of it and it was heartwarming that you trusted Daryl enough to be so open with these things... but it was disgusting how you did these disgusting things with such innocent eyes. However, Daryl was a sucker, because he did everything you asked him to with a smile on his face. He never knew he held such a disgusting pervert deep down inside of him until he came the hardest he ever had while fucking you by a trapped walker. Although, with age and the further you got into the relationship, you both settled down a bit. You two were so fucked for each other, you were basically cumming at the sounds or each other's names.

"Real cute... Just asking for a favor huh?" Daryl mocked, his hand running down to the top of your cunt... stopping so he could watch your squirm. He had other plans than to give you what you wanted, you guys were already fucking in a public restroom while hundreds of people were outside.. might as well go the full mile right? "Well then, you're gonna have to ask a lot better than that sweetheart. Knees."

He didn't have to say anything more than that before you were dropping to your knees. Daryl could cum from just knowing you would do anything for him in a heartbeat, especially sucking his cock when he wanted you to. You were never the type to turn down sucking his cock, you loved watching him come undone on your tongue... you even thought he looked so much more pretty at the angle.

You stared up at him with big eyes, your lips red from you biting them and your tits hanging from your dress. Daryl hummed in contentment, reaching down to wrap a hand through your hair as you looked up at him innocently. He ran a soft hand through at first, making sure you knew you were safe with him... making sure you were okay with what was happening. You nodded softly, a way for you to say "I am okay with this". He shot you a soft smile, running a hand once more through your hair to get it out of your face.

It started off so soft, it always started off so soft because you brought out this softness in Daryl... a softness he had never known he had until he met you. But it always ended up rough, because that is how Daryl loves and that is how you love it. Daryl suddenly gripped your hair, a tight grip that had you gasping and wincing. You groaned softly, chuckling softly at his sudden outburst... you knew you were about to get destroyed and in such a pretty dress.

"Want you to suck my cock..." he said, keeping hold of your hair but reaching down to the top of his pants. He unbuttoned them, almost ripping his belt off as he did so. "Gonna cum all over your pretty little face, then maybe I'll fuck that hole of yours."

You watched up at his hands as he unzipped them, pulling them down slightly so only his cock could come out. The sight of it almost had your mouth watering, not able to think coherent thoughts as you watched it twitch slightly. It was rock hard, the tip already covered in precum and flush red as it desperately craved friction. You knew your teasing left him desperate, and needy for your touch… but it’s as if you hadn’t touched him for days which was not true. You could not keep your hands to yourself around Daryl, so fucking was an everyday thing.

Daryl watched your eyes go wide at the sight of it, his grip on your hair tightened which pulled your attention away from his cock and back to his eyes. He couldn’t help but pump himself a few times, more precum dripping from the tip as he did so. You smirked at him which told him you weren’t done with your teasing.

“Is that any way to speak to your wife?” You asked, your words making his cock twitch even more. "Bet none of those men out there would ever talk to me like that..."

As said before, you had this way of getting under Daryl’s skin… and a little part of you enjoyed the way it affected him. It caused this fire within him that you were able to see from the outside, it was a small change in his demeanor, a small twitch of his eye that was probably only noticed by you. It was that small change that had you slightly terrified but completely and utterly exhilarated. That is the main purpose you teased him the way you do, just to see that small fire build up inside of him until he couldn't take it anymore and he just snapped. You were able to get him into so many dirty positions with that fire, so many nasty things just because of your teasing words.

Daryl's hands shook slightly, a slight hint of jealousy coursing through his blood. He gripped your hair harder, pulling some of it out, as he tried to stop his hand from shaking so much. He pulled you closer to his cock, causing a soft yelp to escape from you. His cock was now laying on your cheek, twitching softly.

"Well, those men don't know you like I do..." He said, pumping his cock one last time before setting his hand on the base of it. "They don't know my wife is a horny sex fiend who can't shut her fucking mouth... open."

You didn't have to be told twice, your mouth opening, and Daryl didn't give you any notice or any warning before he shoved his cock almost completely into your mouth. You held back a gag, feeling the head of his cock in the back of your throat already. Daryl kept your head in place, watching you fight with the urge to gag and recoil back from his cock. He can not deny how much pleasure it gave him to see you in pain, obviously the good kind of pain. The consensual pain that you allowed him to give you and enjoyed every single bit of it.

Daryl stayed still for mere seconds, allowing you to get used to the feeling of a cock in your mouth. You eventually allowed your throat to relax, looking up at him with your watery eyes as you went further down his cock. You wrapped your lips around him, staring him right in the eye as you took his entire cock in your mouth... until your nose was buried into his happy trail. Daryl almost collapsed, seeing the bulge in your throat... he could cum down your throat at this moment.

"good girl... good fucking girl." He said, trying his best to keep you like that for a couple more seconds so he could burn this image in his brain for later use.

He knew that you would be giving him that shit-eating grin that you usually give him when you get a big ego... but you couldn't since his cock was down your throat and you were loving every second of it. Once Daryl stored every single detail of how angelic you looked right now, he pulled your head back with your hair. As he pulled back your head, his slobbered-up cock was revealed... this would be another thing he would store in his mind for later.

Daryl didn't keep your head off his cock for long before he slammed your head back down on his cock, once again forcing his cock down your throat and causing you to want to gag again. You couldn't get used to it this time, you weren't able to stop yourself from gagging before Daryl pulled your head off his cock once more but like he did the last 2 times... he forced your head down on his cock once again. You couldn't help but feel your cunt flutter away as your throat was burning slightly. It was a delicious kind of burn, the taste of his cock making its way down your throat.

before you could even almost gag for a 3rd time, Daryl pulled your head away and then slammed it back down. Now his movements were quick, his cock massaging your throat as you just kept your mouth open and your lips wrapped around his cock. You dug your knees into the bathroom floor, your hand holding onto his thighs as you allowed him to use you like a literal sex toy. You felt so degraded, so disgusting... but you wanted more, you needed more. The feeling of someone walking in excited you even more, knowing that any of those men from earlier can walk in just to relieve themselves and be met with the sounds of gagging... gagging from the woman that they wished would do the same from them.

The thought of that alone, the look on their face as they realized what the gags actually were. The cold sweat that runs through their bodies, the red tint that spreads across their cheeks, the inevitable boner that pops up simply because they imagined how you looked while doing such a disgusting thing. You didn't mind someone walking in and that alone left a sense of shame within your stomach, you begged for it really. You knew it could lead to Daryl losing his job, knowing how they would look down on him because he left the partygoers he was supposed to be protecting so he could get a blowjob from his wife in the bathroom. But you would risk it all. The sudden burst of shame and excitement and complete lust caused you to bob your head along with Daryl's hands. Setting your hands on his ass so you could force him into your throat yourself.

"God... fuck, such a fucking whore huh?" Daryl moaned, keeping his hand entwined with your hair. He looked down at you, watching you work his cock in and out of your throat like it was nothing... your slobber dripping from every crevice of your mouth and onto your already spit-covered tits. "Ya like my cock in your mouth, the only thing you're good for huh?"

The degradation of it only made you speed up your movement, the sounds of your choking and gagging filling the air completely. You kept your eyes on Daryl, watching as he finally pulled his attention away from you and lost himself to the feeling. He threw his head back, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to steady his breathing. You looked up at him like he was some kind of god and in this moment... he was to you. You would have licked the floor he walked on if he asked you, in this moment and in any. Daryl was the closest thing to god you have ever believed in, because how can someone so fucking perfect be real? He must have been made from everything good in the world, like candy or fresh laundry.

You got too ahead of yourself, feeling Daryl pull your head back roughly as your rhythm becomes too sporadic, too messy. Daryl pulled your head completely off his cock, a string of salvia was now the only thing connecting you and him now. Your throat burned, it ached as you coughed softly... trying to catch your breath as you waited for what he was going to do next. When Daryl was in these moods when the fire sparked within him, he was unpredictable and that made your liquids leak from your cunt.

Daryl had a plan to destroy you completely and he was going to go through with it. You weren't going to be able to talk to another man without thinking of what Daryl would do if he saw you... you won't be able to speak for the next few days to come, or walk, or get out of bed. He was going to completely fuck you. Daryl took the base of his cock once again, placing his cock back on your cheek... watching it cover your face in your own saliva. You chuckled softly, closing your eyes as his cock drenched your face with spit. That soft chuckle made Daryl's blood heat up again, he didn't want you to laugh... he wanted you to beg for his mercy, cry so hard that you could barely speak, he wanted you to be a ruined puddle on the floor.

"Sit on your butt, head against the wall." He demanded, pulling your hair back and giving your face a harsh slap as a way to tell you that you would regret it if you didn't.

You did what you were told, sitting flat down on the floor and laying your head back on the stall wall. Daryl moved closer to the wall, so one of his hands was resting on the stall. There was only a small gap between the wall and Daryl, you between the both of them. Daryl's cock slid across your face once again, his hand pumping it softly as he made it so you were between his legs.

"Tap on my thigh if you need me to stop." He said softly, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. He was planning to destroy you, but if you genuinely needed him to stop he would in a heartbeat. "Okay?"

You nodded, repeating back a little "okay" before giving him a soft smile. You adjusted yourself so you were closer to his cock, sitting so you were face to-face with it. You were so ready... your mouth begged for it.

"Alright, sweetheart." He reached down, pulling your mouth closer to his cock as he bent his knees slightly. "All you gotta do is keep your pretty little mouth open for me alright?"

You nodded, opening your mouth once more. Daryl smiles, watching you so eagerly waiting for him. He let you catch your breath for a few more seconds, not wanting to completely overwhelm you all at once. But before you knew it, Daryl's cock was back in your mouth... his thrusts started slow. He allowed you to get adjusted to his cock once more, choking slightly as it hit the very back of your throat.

He didn’t wait too long though, after a few soft thrusts he didn’t go so nice on you. His thrusts became rough and fast, his cock slipping in and out of your throat, making your head almost bang into the stall every single time. As his cock assaulted your throat, hand wrapped in your hair as he used it as a way to keep your head back so he could fuck your throat until it ached, he imagined the way the men looked at you.

He saw you from afar all night long, watching you closely as you collected your stories. You pulled your dress down throughout the night, your tits looked heavenly under the softly yellow light. Then you would pull your dress up, revealing skin inches away from your lace black underwear. It was almost as if you were playing with him, making him a hot mess at his post. Then there were the men, all looking everywhere but your eyes... trailing down to the necklace he had found for you, but not staying there very long before looking directly at your tits. They had no shame, they slowly undressed you with their eyes and you knew it.

His thrust became even faster, your nails digging into his thighs and your eyes watered... Your choking and gagging only egged him on more as he violently banged your head into the wall. You loved every second of his abuse, throat throbbing and raw but so was your cunt. You were clenching around nothing, rubbing your thighs together to get some kind of friction. You would even go as far as to say... you were just as close as Daryl. You could cum from the sight of him alone, that's all you needed for your cunt to feel satisfied.

You could sense his orgasm nearing, his moans started to intertwine with your gagging and choking. He had to keep his hand on the wall to balance himself as his legs started to shake violently, thrust getting messy as you started to lick the vein of his cock so softly with what control you had, his hand gripping your hair roughly. If his cock wasn't in your mouth right now, fucking your throat till it bled... you would be begging him to cum down your throat, wanting to taste his salty seed as he came undone from fucking your face.

"So fucking close baby... so close." He groaned softly, trying to keep his voice below a whisper but the feeling of your velvet throat made him lose control of his own voice. "gonna fucking cum."

You hollow your cheeks, closing your lips around his cock and running your tongue down his shaft. You could feel his cock twitch on your tongue, basically begging to cum. Daryl continued his fast, rough thrust... the knot in his stomach was thrust away from bursting and you did everything in your power to send him over the edge, you craved to see the way his face contorted into pleasure as he came... how his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth opening into a slight O shape, his entire body shaking softly.

Suddenly, just before his breaking point, Daryl pulled his cock out of your mouth. You couldn't help but whine softly at this action, your throat needing to feel his warm cum slide down it. Daryl took his cock in his hand, pumping it at the same pace he was fucking your throat. It only took him a good 3 or 4 pumps before hot strings of cum shot out of his cock, landing directly on you. He milked his cock, watching as it spurted on your cheeks, your nose, almost into your eye but you closed them before it could.

"Fuck..." He let out, huffing as he leaned against the wall... his cock still in his hand as it twitched, almost overstimulated now.

You stayed underneath him, your cunt throbbing in your panties. You were sticky with Daryl's cum, with your own spit, and your sweat. You felt disgusting, you felt so disgusting that not even 10 showers could wash away this feeling... this degrading, embarrassed feeling. But somehow, your cunt still screamed for Daryl's abuse. You looked up at Daryl, his cum now dripping from your face as you did so. He looked so tired, so out of it as his orgasm still sent soft shocks down to his cock. You've noticed as he's gotten older that he has had to take more time to recover from his orgasms, it really takes it out of him.

You remembered when you first started fucking him, Daryl wore you out before he could even think about stopping. After every single nut, he would be hard all over again. It was heaven, but also physically draining. Now in your older age, you would much rather 2 or 3 long drawn-out rounds more than multiple quick fucks. Your and Daryl sexual relationship has come a long way, from quick fucks to long passionate, and kind of perverted sex. It was kind of sweet to you in a way, how you both experimented with each other and picked and chose what you liked and what you didn't. It was something no one in the past would have done for you, it was why you "married" Daryl in the first place.

"So beautiful..." Daryl said, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was caressing your face, wiping away his own cum while he did so.

You blushed softly, leaning into his hand... kissing the palm of it softly. Daryl was always so nice afterward, so gentle and sweet. Nothing like he used to be, so distant and cold... not even helping to clean you up. However, as sweet as this moment was... in a weird and fucked up way, your cunt still throbbed. You still needed your cunt stuffed, still needed it fucked raw to match your sore throat. So you dug deep into your chest, trying to find your voice and force out of your beaten voice box.

"Are you up for round 2 or are you gonna need some time to recover?" You teased, your voice raspy and almost barely there as your throat was quite literally broken.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle, placing his head on the hand that was keeping him upright. Daryl was never the type of person to leave you all high and dry, even if you truly deserved it. He would always give you what you wanted, only he would give it to you over and over and over again until you begged him to stop. He loved watching you cum as much as you loved to cum, so he couldn't deny you the very thing he held dear to him.

Daryl finally was able to get his legs to stop tingling as much, pushing himself off of the stall wall. He now stood inches away from you, just needing to see you in your entirety. You were drenched in his cum, legs sprawled out and shaking on the dirty bathroom floor, your tits hanging from your dress, your hair matted to your forehead and neck... you already looked so destroyed, but you wanted more? He could never understand the pleasure you got out of being destroyed, he loved it too... but being in such degrading positions? Maybe that's why he was the one giving it to you.

He reached his hand out for you to grab it. You did it in a heartbeat, struggling to stand up but balancing on his arm as you did so. He took you softly into his arms, holding you up with one arm as he wiped more of his cum off your face. He slowly brought his knee up to your cunt, you gasped softly as it made contact with your puffy clit. You wanted to move your cunt up and down it, feeling the delicious friction it would give off... but you knew how much of a dick Daryl could be and how easily he would tease you, denying you of his actual cock.

"Old man huh?" He chuckled, still holding you close to his chest. He could feel your heartbeat in not only your chest but also your cunt that was throbbing against his knee. "I'll show you an old man."

He suddenly turned you around, shoving you into the stall door so your face was flat on it and your ass was pushed out. You yelped as he did so, feeling his hands pull your panties down... he wasn't going to take it slow with you this time, he wasn't going to ease you onto him and let you adjust yourself. No, he was going to continue to teach his lesson... make sure it was carved into your brain that what's his, is his, and if you allow another man to look at you like a hungry bear would to his prey... you'll know what happens.

Daryl pumps himself in his fist a couple of times, getting his cock hard again before lining it up to your cunt. You grabbed onto anything that you could, preparing yourself for the devious stretch that you begged for the entire time he fucked your throat. Daryl collected the slick from your dripping cunt onto his cock, making it nice and wet... as if he needed to, your own spit was still covering it. He teased your hole, putting the tip of his cock inside before dragging it down once again. He was trying to tease you, make you feel an ounce of what he felt the entire night with you prancing around in the slutty dress that was now bunched up around your waist. You subconsciously bucked back on him, trying to fit his cock inside your needy cunt... but he held your hips in place, gripping them so painfully that you could feel it throughout your entire body.

He kept this motion up for only seconds before he got tired of it, he got tired of your whines and your pleas, deciding to give you what you craved. In one swift movement, he slammed his cock inside of your wet folds, bottoming out in one thrust as he did so. This action made you moan loudly, almost screaming when you felt the sudden stretch of your cunt around his cock. Daryl revealed this noise, like it was his favorite song... making you scream from pleasure, making you feel so good you didn't care that hundreds of people were just outside of this door... some of those people being the family you have gathered along the fall.

Daryl didn't waste a second, doing the same thing to your cunt that he did with your throat... he pulled his cock all the way out before slamming it back in. You could feel his cock in your stomach, moving around your organs as if it was meant to be in there. You don't think you will ever get used to the size of his cock, because each time you both fucked you would always have to get used to the shape of him all over again... and each time it took you off guard. His cock was merciless, nails digging into your hips, cock buried so perfectly into your cunt... it was pure light.

You were so lost in pleasure, your moans just dripping from your mouth and Daryl allowed it... he was far too lost in his own pleasure to mind. You hoped that the loud music playing just outside would cover the noise and since no one had come running in to make sure you weren't being murdered yet, you felt it was doing a good job of covering up the noise. Daryl kept up his harsh thrust, one hand coming up to your hair to pull your head back so he could attack your neck. His teeth sunk into your skin, causing your body to go almost limp... balancing on Daryl's cock was the only thing keeping you upright.

He watched your eyes roll back into your head, face flush red as he pushed himself further into you as if there was any room for him to do so. He reached his hand that was placed on your hip, sliding it down to between your thighs... rubbing your bundle of nerves slowly. He knew you were close, he knew you could have gotten off his cock down your throat alone.... so he knew you wouldn't be able to hold on very long from his cock being deep inside you. He touched, licked, fucked every single spot of your that he knew would send you off the edge, he was proving pretty successful with it too.

But suddenly, all his movements stopped and so did the entire world for a second. While you were lost in your pleasure, the bathroom door was slammed open and voices now replaced your moans... engulfing the bathroom with their noise. You were too lost in your own pleasure to notice, your moans still slipping through your mouth and your hips trying to once again buck back into his. Daryl however was now in his "security/guard" mode now, reaching up with his hand to slap it around your mouth... pulling you flush to his chest. You gasped into his hand at the sudden action, eyes widening as you felt his cock dig deeper into you. Even though that was not Daryl's intention, it still caused his cock to twitch inside of you.

"Shhh." He cooed, his mouth hovering over your ear.

But how could you be quiet when Daryl's cock was so deep inside of you, how could you be quiet with how close his body was to yours, how could you be quiet when you could smell his toothpaste and the college he wore. but you obeyed, knowing that if you did then maybe you would get a mind-blowing orgasm out of it. You could hear two sets of footsteps, they sounded heavy... almost like 2 men. IT would make sense, if you were in the men's bathroom... You couldn't hear what they were talking about, you could hear them but you couldn't understand them with Daryl's cock grazing your g-stop.

Daryl peaked through the small gap between the wall and the door, watching the men through it. You could tell by the way his eyes relaxed slightly that the men had no idea you two were in here, that they were lost in their own conversation to pay any attention to the stall you two had been hidden behind. Daryl took a step back, pulling you along with him... his movement caused his cock to almost slip out of you, but him pulling you close to his made it once again thrust inside of you. You squirmed against him, his free hand keeping you still.

"Did you see that girl...uhh she had that black dress on? She was going around interviewing people about how they like the commonwealth?" One of the men said, you could hear him unzip his pants as he did so... soon after the trickling of urine could be heard.

"Dixons girl? yeah, I saw her alright." The other man said, his voice almost laced with lust.

You froze at the mention of you, more specifically how you were labeled "Dixon's girl". You had a name and you even gave it to them, fucking assholes. If it were any other time, you would correct them with a fist through the teeth and a knee to the groin... but right now, you were too occupied getting stuffed by Daryl's cock. Your senses were completely filled with Daryl, your cunt full of him... it made it hard to think any coherent thought, especially with how his cock pulsed inside of you, rubbing you from the inside softly.

"Dixons girl huh?" The other man chuckled, finishing up his business as he did so. You could feel Daryl's ego grow a bit, especially with how his hips started to move softly into yours. He got such a big head when it came to you, knowing you were his. "So what's the deal with them? I mean, she's like 20 years younger than that old fuck. Does she have daddy issues or does she just like me older?"

You would have corrected them once again, telling them that you just liked Daryl. You didn't go after him because he was older or because you lacked a father... They would probably have done the same thing with what Daryl did with his cock, how it turned you into a madwoman every time he pulled it out. You huffed into Daryl's hand, which caused him to chuckle silently. This was entertaining, to say the least, this entire situation was.

"With the way she was dressed tonight, I think maybe she's just a whore." The man said, causing your blood to go cold. "Maybe Dixon was just lucky enough to be the first guy she fucked."

You loved being degraded, you loved being called a whore, you loved being told you are nothing but a hole for a man to cum in... but only when Daryl said it. It was like when it came out of another man's mouth, it sounded so wrong and so degrading but in a not good way. Daryl had a way with his words that made it sound like pure honey, like candy dripped from his lips and you couldn't wait to get a taste. Daryl felt this too as if your genuine degradation actually affected him... like he could feel it flowing through his veins too. Daryl thrust his cock into you, trying to make you forget what they were saying, making you present with him instead of them.

"She seems like the type. " The man replied, the sink running as he said. Daryl once again thrust his cock into you, the knot in your stomach coming back. "Those outsider girls, man, I hear they let you do some weird shit to them."

One more sharp thrust from Daryl, his hand pressing harder on your mouth so they wouldn't hear your moans. He let his free hand roam down to your clit once more, rubbing it in small tight circles. To him, Daryl thought that maybe if you were too focused on your nearing orgasm, you wouldn't let the words of disgusting men get to you... he was slightly right because after that last sentence, their words turned to just background noise. You could feel yourself giving in the pleasure, you threw your head back on his shoulder, your back arching as you pressed your ass more into him so the gaps between your bodies were nonexistent.

"Damn, I might have to pay a visit to Dixons girl huh?" The man chuckled, the sound of zipping pants and water filled the air. "You think she'd take us both at the same time?"

Daryl's thrust started out as a way to comfort you in a way, but now with the venomous words these men were letting out... he was doing it out of anger, and jealousy as they talked so grossly about his wife. His thrusts were deep, and rough as he imagined what he would do to these men when he got done with you. How he'd cut off every single finger of one man's hand as the other watched. How he'd slit the throat of the man who even asked that stupid question in the first place, basking in the way his blood sprayed on him.

You took your hand and reached back to set your hands on Daryl's hips as he dug his cock so violently into your cunt. You couldn't take it anymore, your juices had dripped down your legs, now soaking the floor as you let Daryl abuse your pussy. You gave his hip a soft squeeze, a way to tell him "Keep fucking me, I'm gonna cum." He didn't slow his movement, instead, he sped up. Hacking away at the knot that was about to explode inside of your stomach.

"If she's fucking that old redneck... shit, she should be glad we would even consider fucking her." The man spit out, heavy footsteps leading to the door as he spoke.

And that was it, those words caused Daryl to thrust so harshly into you that it broke the knot inside of you. You almost screamed into Daryl's hand, your body tensing completely, your toes curling, your vision going white as he didn't stop his abuse. He fucked and rubbed you through the earth-shattering, mind-blowing, entire life-changing orgasm. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, liquids puddling up on the floor as you came around his cock. His fingers that were playing with your clit while you came were now covered in your slick.

"I call fucking her tits first." The other man said, another pair of footsteps followed the first ones you heard... both of the men now leaving the bathroom. "You can have him..."

The door shut, silencing the men's words which were now just jumbled as you came on Daryl's cock. You heard the door click shut, suddenly being shoved against the door once again in just seconds. You were still having the aftershocks of your orgasm while Daryl thrust into you, shoving your head further into the stall door. You moaned loudly, you're an overstimulated pussy trying to reject his cock but also craving it, his hand no longer silencing your moans. He shoved his cock inside of you, over and over again until the door was shaking along with his thrust.

You could feel his anger, feel the way that he tensed... the way that those men's words got more to him than they did to you. You could tell with every thrust of his hips that he was furious. He thrust into you only a couple more times before he groaned loudly, almost growling as he felt his own orgasm consume his body.

"Gonna cum in your fucking pussy..." He spit out, his grip on your hip tightening now and you could cum again just by his anger. "Gonna fill you up so fucking good baby... so good baby."

His words filled your brain, your body still so exhausted from the orgasm. You let him use you though, let him use your body so he could fuck his anger out. It was only mere seconds before you could feel his thick, warm cum paint your walls. When he said he was going to fill you up, he fucking meant it. He gave your pussy a few more good thrusts before he drained himself completely, his body allowing his veins to fill with pleasure. There's something about anger that makes orgasms feel so much better, feel so much more intense... and Daryl was a very angry man.

Daryl's cock softened inside of you, throbbing against your walls. He kept himself in you though, allowing you both to recover from the pleasure that filled you both. Daryl leaned down, kissing your back softly as he came down from his high, rubbing your hips to ease the bruises he left on them. This night was not supposed to go like this, you two were not supposed to fuck in the bathroom of this new town you had just been welcomed into. This was behavior that you two would do in your earlier years when you were both reckless, both so horny your hands never left each other. It is comforting, how things never really change.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, brushing your hair from your face... your face still pressed against the door and still very much covered in his cum.

You nodded softly, not able to speak well because Daryl's cock really took a number on your throat. Daryl smiled softly, slipping his cock out of you... watching his cum leak out of you. It was rare for Daryl to cum in you, he was always so adamant about cumming anywhere but inside simply because....he didn't want to knock you up, kids weren't supposed to grow up in this world. But something about tonight, he wasn't worried about you getting pregnant. A part of him actually welcomed it.

Daryl stepped back from you, pulling his pants up and buttoning them back up. You straighten yourself up, legs shaking as you attempt to pull your dress down. You weren't sure if you should bring up what happened, about the men who said those things but the words left a tension between you two. The words did hurt, you did feel massively sexualized by those men and you didn't like the feeling of it. But you thought maybe you could ignore it, it will go away on its own. Daryl noticed your struggle to put your dress back on, feeling a slight twinge of sympathy.

"Let me help..." He said, reaching over to help fix your dress. Covering up your body, his hands grazing your soft skin as he did so. He too was having that debate in his head, if you two should talk about it. "You know, those men. They're dead, you know that?"

It was almost like he heard your thoughts, could read your mind, and laid out what you needed to hear. This entire night you had been sexualized, but you didn't mind it... it was just attention to you. But hearing it while Daryl was there, feeling the way it affected him as well. It made you feel so gross like maybe all you were was actually just a piece of meat to some men. You could never imagine a life without Daryl now, how respectful he was even with his degradation.

Daryl was 2 steps ahead though, he already planned on making their life a living hell. It was one thing to gawk at you in front of your face, imagining what you tasted like or how you would look butt naked on top of them... all the while you just wanted to collect stories. But it was another thing to write you up as some lust-filled woman who would give herself any man who would ask her nicely. You weren't what they made you out to be, but then again they made every woman who liked sex like they did out to be some kind of whore. You liked sex, you liked it rough... but so did they, so why were you any different?

"Don't get yourself in trouble because of that asshole diary." You said although you urged him not to... a part of you really wanted him to. Men like them deserved to be put in their place, they deserved to be made to feel just how they made women feel. Plus you wouldn't mind Daryl coming home all bloody...

"Who said I'll get caught..." He smiled, inching closer to you, and laid a soft kiss on your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist while he did so. Daryl was good at his craft, he knew how to be careful."So, I want you to go home... Take a nice bath, make some tea or something.... maybe get some rest. And I'll be home before you know it."

He kissed your forehead, brushing your hair from your face. It did sound so nice to just give in to sleep, especially with being a nervous wreck all night and then being fucked so hard in a small bathroom. But the feeling of Daryl going to hunt down these men, staying up till the early ends of the night punishing them for what they said... something inside of you flips, causing a small knot in your stomach to form wants more. You reached up on your tiptoes, bringing Daryl into a passionate, long kiss. This hinted to Daryl what kind of mood his actions had put you in, he pulled away when he realized... he'd already been away from his post for long enough, he couldn't go another round with you.

He chuckled softly, stepping away from you... he slid his jacket off and placed it on your small body. You were completely engulfed by it, it covered your body more than the black dress did, and you couldn't help but feel so safe in it.

"I'll leave the bathroom first, you wait a couple of minutes and sneak out. There should be a backdoor in the kitchen you can slip out of, but then I want you to go straight home okay?" He said, pulling the jacket closer to your body before setting another kiss to your lips. "And clean your face off before leaving, it's already bad enough i fucked you in here... don't need them to see the evidence of it."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, zipping up the jacket as you did so. You did completely forget about the cum that still dripped from your face, you were covered in so many liquids that his cum was completely forgotten by you. You nodded your head, watching him unlock the stall door and slip out of it. You poked your head from it, making sure the coast was clear before you also slipped out of it. You looked in the mirror, jesus... you were a complete mess. You watched as he peeked out of the bathroom door, making sure he could slip out successfully.

"Round three when you get home..." You called out, making him whip his head around to look at you. He scoffed, shaking his head softly.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl

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notspiders · 1 year ago

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Oh, Honey! (Bumblebee! Reader x Monster! 141)

General Warnings: Mostly fluff. Reader is female and is described as rather small and chubby. Reader is clumsy. Reader has a very large family. Characters may act out of character. Poor grammar is likely. Cussing. Part 1??? Note: Monster! 141 belongs to @bluegiragi

~~~~

Price watches you through the window.

Truthfully, he isn't sure how he and his team ended up here. One day they were being chased by a bloody team of zombies/cannon fodder, the next- he's laying on this extremely cozy bed (although it is a bit small) with his wounds nicely patched. Soap has gone hunting with the other women. Ghost is satisfied that they're all safe in this... rather massive cottage and has been snoring away in the next room for the past hour. Gaz has told him that he's going to just fly around and keep an eye out- just in case if the enemies somehow find themselves through the dense woods and into this clearing.

They really were lucky, Price thinks. According to you, the woods were a force themselves. Navigating through it, especially at night, is practically impossible. Compasses don't work. There's no signal and, of course, any type of aircraft just fail here. The woods are miles long and unless you packed enough supplies- it's suicide to dive back in and try to find your way out. It's just that sometimes the woods can help you, and sometimes the woods just gives you Mother Nature's middle finger and kills you. So there's that.

Naturally, the team was suspicious.

1) The explanation made no sense. 2) They were just outnumbered by a ton of enemies and to stumble upon this welcoming lot is... well, it's too good to be true, yeah? 3) You and your family are just way too happy. 3.1) There are no guys in your family. Your mother stated that men generally just wandered in, the family would treat them, and then they go away by themselves after a few nights. 3.2) Honestly, all of you look the same. Maybe there's like, a difference in hairstyles, body types, and obvious age gaps between the women here and there, but Jesus… Gaz has already made the mistake of confusing you, your cousins, your many sisters, and other random girls multiple times last night. 3.3) Scratch out the 'massive cottage' you guys claimed it to be. It's a mansion. Your 'family' is very large. There are many aunts, other women, cousins, other girls that were adopt into the family- Just no men. All living under the same roof and might as well be an army itself with how efficient you all did your tasks.

That said, it's very rude to point guns at innocent, clueless civilians. You, an adorably chubby, little bumblebee-hybrid (identifiable by the two rather pathetic buzzing wings behind your back), opened the door to them last night and stared blankly at their guns before cheerily ushering them in without freaking your head out. Next thing they knew, they got some quality homecooked meals cooked and served before them, plenty of drink (the honey mead everyone shared is excellent), proper treatment with their wounds (with... herbs), and warm beds. Ghost had stayed up the whole night and snooped around (just in case) but reported nothing interesting except for a few old hunting rifles and some overdue library books. Yes, each girl did carry a tiny foraging knife, but he's pretty certain they could still punt them like footballs ten at a time.

Morning comes- the team properly introduce themselves without being too specific of their occupation. There was a great deal of oohing and aahing as Price unfolded his one wing. His smoke did cause one girl to faint and her mother quickly asked for Price to... stop. He did his best and has, for now, stopped smoking his cigar. Everyone just steered clear from Ghost. Many children were petting Soap's head and playing with his fluffy tail, and others were stroking Gaz's wings.

Despite all the attention, Price's gaze is always on you. Maybe it was because of the fact that he's seen you first. You were just the cutest out of all of them. He wanted to whisk you away just to squish every soft part of your body and have you cuddled up beside him in his nest back home.

He's sorely disappointed to be told that he needs to return to bed so that his wounds can heal faster. No matter. The window gives him a very nice view of the clearing outside. Some girls are tending to the farm. Others are beekeeping. Plenty have gone to the outskirts of the forest to forage or hunt. Soap has offered to go out with the girls and they gladly accepted his help. (Tomorrow, he'll get off of this bed and join everyone too.)

Right now, you're picking the berries in your garden. It's amusing to watch you. Sometimes you bend over to pluck a few pretty flowers too- he's gotten a very nice view of your plump arse here and there. He's watched you buzz your small wings to just barely get a foot in the air and pluck an apple off the tree. Oh, how he wished to simply go out to lift you up himself... Your weight would be nothing to him.

From his observations, he's smartly deduced: Your body is round. Your little wings aren't designed for distance.

He loves the way you'd burrow your nose into any flower. Sometimes you remind him of Johnny's eagerness by the way you'd get a bit too enthusiastic and faceplant into the bed of flowers to take in the scent.

Price watches you get up, bump into your cousin (or is it sister? Or is this another girl? He couldn't be arsed), and the two of you collectively squeaked and apologized at the same time. Adorable. Fascinating. Beautiful. He hasn't felt this way ever since the time he xaight the glimpse of the shiny Excalibur in that stupid rock.

The lunch horn has been blown. He's been told that today's meal would be freshly baked bread and creamy chicken with wild rice soup. There’ll be tea and coffee for the drinks.

Price wishes his lunch would just be you.

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rafesbimbo · 1 month ago

Text

Exclusive Access pt.3

Warnings: 18+, 4.3k words, oral (f), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, Dark themes ??, RAFE IS A STALKER, innocent!reader, strip-tease, lots of kissing, use of pet names, intense yearning ۶ৎ NOT PROOF READ !!!, lmk if im missing anything!!

pairing: Jealous!Rafe Cameron x Camgirl!Reader

part one , part two

It got worse after that night.

For both of you.

You tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

You tried to pretend you didn’t feel his eyes in every shadow.

Didn’t feel his touch in every brush of cold air against your skin.

But Rafe...

Rafe couldn’t pretend anymore.

Every night without you was agony.

Every sunrise felt like another blade twisting in his gut.

He couldn’t sleep.

Couldn’t eat.

Couldn’t breathe without you clogging up his fucking lungs.

You were everywhere.

He’d drive past the diner at midnight, headlights off, just to see if you were still there.

He'd sit in the parking lot, smoking cigarettes down to the filter, staring at your window like a man waiting for salvation.

He didn’t touch anyone else.

Not even to get the ache out of his system.

No one would do.

No one but you.

The flowers started two days later.

Small at first.

White lilies tucked into the booth you always used at work.

Then pink roses — shy, almost sweet — left at your apartment door with no signature.

Then bigger arrangements.

Orchids, peonies, gardenias — expensive, excessive, like he was trying to drown you in pretty things.

Each bouquet came with a note.

Short.

Intimate.

Painful in their tenderness.

"You’re the only thing that makes this world bearable. I don’t want anyone else. I never will. Every day without you is worse than the last."

You told yourself you weren’t keeping the notes.

You told yourself you were throwing them away.

But they piled up anyway — tucked into a shoebox under your bed, hidden like a secret shame.

And Rafe?

He knew.

He knew

Sometimes, when you opened your mailbox, there’d be a letter.

Old-fashioned. Handwritten.

Pages of messy scrawl, like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

In one, he confessed:

I think about you more than I think about breathing.

I want to be good for you. I want to be better. I’d kill for you, sugar.

In another, darker:

I see the way men look at you. It makes my hands itch. It makes my heart bleed.

You belong to me. Even if you don’t want to admit it yet.

You should have been terrified.

You were.

But you were something else too.

Something worse.

Curious.

Drawn.

Like a moth beating itself bloody against a flame it couldn’t resist.

And Rafe?

Rafe was losing himself inch by inch.

Some nights he sat outside your building for hours, just... watching.

Making sure you were safe.

Making sure no one else got too close.

Convincing himself he could wait.

Convincing himself he could be patient.

But every second without you clawed at him.

Every laugh you gave to someone else shredded him inside out.

Every accidental glimpse of your smile made him want to tear the world apart, just to tuck you somewhere no one else could ever see.

He whispered your name into the darkness like a prayer.

One day you’d understand.

That you were already his.

Had been from the moment he first saw you behind that cheap little webcam, blushing and shy and perfect.

You were his sugar.

His salvation.

His curse.

And Rafe?

Rafe would wait forever if he had to.

Because loving you — needing you — was the only thing keeping him alive at all.

=========================

The notes kept coming.

Every day.

Every night.a

You stopped pretending you didn’t read them.

Stopped pretending they didn’t matter.

Each one carved deeper under your skin.

Each one left you raw and trembling in ways you couldn’t explain.

He wasn’t asking for anything.

He wasn’t begging.

He was waiting.

Loving you from a distance with a patience so violent it made your chest hurt.

And you hated yourself for it —

for the way you craved him back.

For the way you curled up in bed at night, clutching his letters to your chest, whispering his name into your pillow like a dirty secret.

You fought it.

You fought him.

But the more you pushed, the tighter the cord wrapped around your throat.

Around your heart

====================

The night you broke was a Tuesday.

Cold and mean and wet, the kind of night where the world felt hollow and cruel.

You found another bouquet waiting on your doorstep —

wildflowers this time, messy and beautiful, tied together with a rough piece of twine.

No card.

No note.

Just a single slip of paper tucked between the stems, smudged with rain:

Still waiting, sugar.

Still yours.

You stared at it.

Heart pounding.

Throat closing.

You stood there for what felt like hours, soaked to the bone, shaking with something too big to name.

And then — without thinking, without breathing —

you grabbed your coat.

Grabbed your keys.

And went looking for him.

You found him exactly where you knew he’d be.

Sitting in his truck, parked two blocks down from your building, engine off, window cracked just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette curl into the cold night air.

He didn’t see you at first.

Didn’t move.

Just sat there —

head back against the seat, eyes closed, mouth moving in silent prayers you couldn’t hear.

You stood on the sidewalk, heart rattling in your ribs.

Watching him.

Feeling the full, brutal weight of what you were about to do.

And still —

you moved.

One step.

Then another.

Until you were right outside his door, shivering, dripping rain onto the pavement.

He must’ve felt you.

Some instinct deeper than thought.

Because his eyes snapped open —

and when he saw you, he froze.

Like a man staring down a miracle.

Or a ghost.

Or the last breath he ever expected to take.

"Rafe," you whispered.

Voice thin.

Breaking.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

Just stared.

Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

Like you’d vanish if he reached for you too fast.

You lifted a trembling hand —

and knocked once against the glass.

That tiny sound shattered him.

The door flew open.

He was on you in a second —

but he didn’t touch.

Didn’t grab.

Didn’t even move closer.

He just stood there, dripping wet too now, fists clenched at his sides like he was holding himself back with every scrap of willpower he had left.

You stared up at him —

the boy who’d spent months haunting you.

Loving you.

Waiting for you.

And you realized:

He’d never really wanted to steal you.

He just wanted you to choose him.

Slowly — so slowly — you reached out.

Curled your fingers into the front of his jacket.

Tugged.

His whole body jolted.

A shudder ran through him so deep it made you ache.

Still, he didn’t move until you whispered it:

"Rafe... please."

That single sentence broke him.

Undid him.

He cupped your face with trembling hands, like you were made of glass.

Pressed his forehead to yours, breath shaking against your lips.

"You’re mine," he rasped.

A confession.

A prayer.

A promise.

You nodded.

Tears mixing with the rain.

"Yours," you whispered back.

And for the first time in months —

Rafe Cameron smiled.

Soft and wild and starved —

like a man who'd finally found his way home.

===================

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Just breathing.

Just feeling.

The rain dripped from your lashes.

Your fingers clutched tighter into his jacket.

You could feel the way Rafe was trembling — this big, dangerous boy who could ruin you without even trying, shaking like you were the only thing holding him together.

And then —

slow as the tide pulling out to sea —

he leaned in.

His mouth brushed yours so lightly it barely counted as a kiss.

A whisper.

A plea.

He pulled back almost immediately, searching your face, waiting for a sign —

Begging without saying a word.

You whimpered.

Soft.

Needy.

You crushed your mouth back to his.

That was all he needed.

Rafe groaned — a low, guttural sound that made your knees buckle — and caught your face in both hands, kissing you like he was drowning and you were the only air left.

Not rough.

Not violent.

But desperate.

His lips moved over yours again and again, slow and deep and aching, like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

Like he’d been dreaming of this for so long he couldn’t believe it was real.

You whimpered into his mouth, and his whole body shuddered against you, a helpless noise tearing from his throat.

"Sugar," he breathed.

"God, you’re so soft... so sweet... been waitin’ so fuckin' long—"

You clutched at him harder, soaking wet and shivering and starved for him in ways you didn’t know how to name.

He kissed you through it — patient, tender, worshipful — like he could feel how scared you were, how much you wanted him but didn’t know how to ask.

He was shaking just as bad.

Not from cold — from restraint.

From the agonizing, brutal need he was barely keeping caged.

Still, he didn’t push.

Didn’t try to take more than you gave.

Just held you — kissed you — poured every filthy, aching, adoring thing he felt into the way his mouth moved over yours.

Eventually, the cold got too sharp.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, voice cracking:

"Come inside?"

Rafe stared at you like you’d just handed him the stars.

Like you’d saved him.

He nodded once — a tiny, broken movement — and let you take his hand, leading him up the stairs, into your tiny apartment that smelled like vanilla candles and soft laundry.

The door clicked shut behind you.

The world outside disappeared.

Inside, everything slowed even more.

You stood there in the soft glow of the living room lamp, dripping rainwater onto the carpet, breathing hard, heart hammering in your ears.

Rafe didn’t move.

Didn’t rush.

Just stared at you —

— and the look in his eyes made your breath catch.

Like you were something sacred.

Like he was standing in front of an altar.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, voice raw and wrecked.

"You don’t even fuckin' know, do you?"

You shook your head, overwhelmed.

He smiled — a soft, broken thing — and stepped closer, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

When he reached out, his fingers skimmed your cheek — featherlight, reverent.

Tracing the line of your jaw, your throat, the hollow where your pulse fluttered wildly.

You whimpered again, and Rafe cursed under his breath, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

"Let me take care of you," he rasped.

"Please, sugar... let me show you how good I can be."

You nodded.

Tiny.

Breathless.

And that was it.

That was all Rafe needed.

He let out a shaky breath — like he was barely holding himself together — and stepped even closer.

His hands, still trembling, moved to your jacket first.

Fumbling the zipper like he’d never undressed someone before.

Like the idea of peeling away your layers had short-circuited his whole brain.

You laughed — soft and sweet and nervous — and Rafe groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder like he was about to fall apart right there.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"You’re killin' me, baby. You don't even know..."

You reached up, shy, and pushed the jacket off your shoulders yourself.

Rafe watched it fall to the floor like it was something sacred.

Like every inch of skin you revealed was another piece of heaven he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

He took his time.

His hands slid up your arms, slow and reverent, tracing every curve like he was memorizing you by feel.

The pads of his fingers skimming over your elbows, your shoulders, the dip of your waist.

Leaving goosebumps in their wake.

When he finally cupped your face again, you leaned into him without thinking.

Like you belonged there.

Like you wanted to.

He kissed you again — deeper this time, but still slow —

and you whimpered when his tongue brushed yours, tentative and gentle, like he was asking permission.

You gave it to him.

You gave him everything.

Your hands fisted in his damp shirt.

Tugging.

Begging.

Needing him closer, closer, closer —

He groaned into your mouth, the sound filthy and broken.

And for the first time, you felt the heavy, aching proof of how much he wanted you.

Hard against your stomach.

Throbbing.

Desperate.

Still — he didn’t push.

Didn’t grind against you.

Didn’t take.

Just shuddered and kissed you harder, like he could pour all of it into your mouth instead.

When you whimpered again — a high, needy sound you couldn’t have swallowed if you tried —

Rafe pulled back, gasping, forehead pressed to yours.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he rasped.

"Tell me — I'll do anything. Anything you want."

You stared up at him, trembling, heart breaking under the weight of how much he loved you.

How badly he was trying to be good.

You swallowed.

Opened your mouth.

Nothing came out at first.

Then, barely a whisper:

"Touch me... please."

Rafe made a sound you didn’t even recognize —

half-growl, half-whimper —

and dropped to his knees in front of you.

He kissed the bare skin just above your hip, hands sliding under your soaked shirt to push it higher, higher —

tugging it up and over your head with slow, reverent hands.

When you stood there in just your damp little bra, shivering and wide-eyed, Rafe leaned back on his heels, eyes dragging over you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

"Fuck," he whispered again, almost broken.

"You’re a fuckin’ angel, sugar. My sweet girl. My perfect fuckin’ girl."

His hands were on your hips now, gentle but firm, smoothing up to your waist and back down again like he couldn’t help himself.

Like he needed to touch every inch of you just to make sure you were real.

He nuzzled into your stomach, breathing you in, scattering kisses so soft they barely registered except for the way they made your whole body shiver.

You whimpered again, and Rafe's hands tightened — just for a second — before he caught himself, pulling back like he was terrified of hurting you.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he whispered.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

You shook your head so fast it made him smile —

that soft, broken smile like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

"Need you," you whispered.

"need you so bad.."

He kissed the inside of your thigh through your jeans —

a desperate, reverent little kiss that made you gasp —

before reaching for your waistband.

Still slow.

Still giving you every chance to pull away.

When you didn’t — when you whined and arched into his touch —

he groaned again and started to peel the soaked denim down your legs, inch by slow, agonizing inch.

Every bit of skin he uncovered, he kissed.

The sharp point of your hip.

The soft curve of your thigh.

The delicate skin behind your knee.

By the time you stood there in just your panties, shivering and bare and aching, you were crying.

Silent, shaking tears sliding down your cheeks.

Rafe noticed immediately.

Shot up to his feet so fast you barely saw him move, cupping your face again, wiping the tears with his thumbs.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey, no, shh, sugar, don’t cry.."

You nodded, choking on a sob you didn’t even understand.

"Just— feels good," you whispered.

"Feels too good."

Rafe’s whole face crumpled.

He kissed you again, soft and slow and filthy, mouths wet and trembling, like he needed to taste your tears just to prove to himself you were real.

"I got you," he whispered between kisses.

"I got you, baby... gonna make you feel so good... so fuckin' good..."

Rafe kissed you until you stopped shaking.

Until your sobs melted into gasps.

Into tiny, desperate sounds that made his hands clench where they cradled your face.

He pulled back just enough to look at you —

really look at you —

and the way his eyes darkened made your whole body throb.

"Gonna make you feel good now, sugar," he rasped, voice low and wrecked.

"Gonna taste you... been dreaming about this — about you — for so fuckin' long."

You whimpered, thighs clenching together, but Rafe was already moving —

sinking back to his knees at your feet, hands skimming reverently down your body.

He kissed your belly again, slow and messy, leaving a slick trail of heat.

Then lower —

the dip of your hip, the soft curve of your inner thigh —

so close to where you needed him, but never rushing, never taking.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and paused —

looking up at you through wet lashes, pleading:

"Let me see you, baby. Please."

You nodded, dizzy, and lifted your hips just enough to let him pull them down.

Rafe’s breath caught.

Hard.

He dragged your panties down your legs with shaking hands, baring you inch by inch like he was unwrapping the most precious thing he’d ever been given.

When you stepped out of them, shy and trembling, he groaned low in his chest.

The sound of a man breaking.

He tossed the scrap of lace aside without looking.

Didn’t care about anything but you.

His hands slid up your calves, your knees, your thighs —

spreading you gently, reverently, just enough to see.

You flushed hot all over.

Tried to turn your face away, overwhelmed.

But Rafe caught your chin, made you look at him.

Made you see the devotion in his eyes.

"Goddamn," he breathed.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty, sugar... so wet already... all for me?

You'd whimper.

His eyes fluttered shut for a second like he was in pain.

Like he was trying to memorize this moment forever.

"I’m gonna take my time," he said, voice rough with need.

"Gonna make you come on my tongue... over and over."

Then he kissed you there —

a slow, open-mouthed kiss right over your soaked, swollen clit —

and you sobbed.

He moaned into you like he was tasting something holy.

Something he’d been starving for.

His hands slid under your ass, holding you still, tilting you just right.

His tongue moved slow at first —

broad, heavy licks up your slit, savoring every inch.

Dragging across your clit with torturous, aching pressure that made your knees buckle.

You gasped, clutching at his hair, tugging without even meaning to —

and Rafe groaned, like your need made him harder, made him hungrier.

He mouthed at your clit, slow and messy, letting spit and slick coat his chin.

Suckling softly, then lapping at you like a man possessed.

No rhythm at first — just desperate worship.

"Taste so good, sugar," he mumbled against you.

"So fuckin’ sweet... fuck, can’t get enough..."

His tongue slid lower, teasing your entrance —

flicking, pressing, dipping inside —

and you cried out, hips jerking helplessly.

He held you down, moaning when you squirmed, like your writhing was the best thing he’d ever felt.

"That’s it," he panted.

"That’s my good girl... give it to me... wanna feel you come on my mouth, baby, c'mon..."

You were already so close it scared you.

The way your body tightened, pulling taut like a bowstring.

The way your thighs clamped around his head, trying to push him away and pull him closer all at once.

Rafe didn’t let go.

Didn’t stop.

He just wrapped his arms tighter around your thighs, grinding his mouth into you with filthy, desperate sounds, his nose bumping your clit in time with the frantic flicks of his tongue.

Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard, and he growled —

low and guttural —

sending vibrations through your core that made your vision blur.

You sobbed his name.

Over and over.

A broken, wrecked little chant.

"Rafe — Rafe — Rafe —"

That did it.

He groaned again, louder, sucking your clit into his mouth with devastating pressure —

and you shattered.

Your whole body went taut —

then broke apart, spasming against him as you came with a high, keening cry.

Rafe held you through it, moaning against your pulsing cunt, drinking down every tremor, every sob, every desperate, wrecked gasp.

He didn’t stop.

Even when you started to twitch, to push at his shoulders, too sensitive —

he just kept licking, softer now, coaxing you through every last aftershock until you were nothing but a boneless, sobbing mess in his hands.

When he finally pulled back, his face was wrecked —

chin slick with your arousal, lips swollen, eyes wild and reverent.

"You’re mine now," he whispered, voice thick and shaking.

"You hear me, sugar? Always fuckin’ mine."

You couldn’t even speak.

Just nodded, whimpering, reaching for him.

Needing him back against you.

Inside you.

Everywhere.

And Rafe — sweet, obsessed, broken Rafe —

crawled up your body, kissed your wrecked mouth, and whispered:

"Not done yet, baby... gonna make you feel even better..

=============

Later that night, after you’d both caught your breath —

after he’d kissed every inch of your body, whispered every filthy, worshipful thing he’d ever dreamed of saying —

you found yourself perched on the edge of your bed.

Still trembling.

Still wide-eyed.

Rafe sat back against your headboard, legs spread, shirt half-open, eyes wild and hungry on you.

His hand rested lazily on his cock —

thick, flushed, heavy in his palm —

but he wasn’t stroking yet.

Not really.

Just teasing himself, like he was trying to savor it.

Watching you with a hunger so sharp it almost hurt.

"Show me, sugar," he rasped, voice low and ruined.

"Give me a fuckin' show."

You blinked at him, cheeks burning.

"W-what?"

Rafe’s lips curled into a slow, wrecked smile.

He fisted himself once — a slow, filthy drag of his palm — and groaned under his breath.

"Strip for me, baby. Real slow."

"Like you do on that fuckin' cam."

"But this time... it’s just for me."

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

You could barely breathe.

But the way he looked at you —

like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted, ever needed —

made your thighs clench with desperate, aching heat.

You swallowed.

Nodded.

And rose shakily to your feet.

Rafe’s eyes never left you.

Not once.

Tracking every single movement like a predator locked on prey.

You started slow.

Just swaying your hips a little, hands sliding up your own sides, across your breasts, down your waist.

You bit your lip — shy and unsure —

but the way Rafe groaned when you tugged your ruined little panties back up your thighs gave you a rush of wicked confidence.

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband —

dragging them down, inch by slow, teasing inch.

Rafe’s breath hitched.

His hand started moving —

slow, steady strokes along his cock, squeezing the head just enough to make his whole body twitch.

"That’s it, sugar," he panted.

"God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect... show me what’s mine."

You stepped out of the panties, letting them fall to the floor.

Ran your hands up your thighs again, swaying a little more now.

Arching your back just enough to make your tits press tight against the too-small bra you still wore.

Rafe’s eyes darkened.

His hand moved faster.

His thighs tensed under his jeans, a vein popping along his neck.

"Take it off, baby," he rasped.

"Wanna see all of you."

You reached behind your back — fumbled for the clasp —

and Rafe’s hand squeezed almost painfully tight around his cock as the bra loosened.

You slid it off your shoulders slow, teasing, letting the straps fall one at a time.

Barer and barer with every heartbeat.

When you finally let it drop, standing there naked, flushed, trembling —

Rafe broke.

He let out a rough, shuddering groan —

stroking his cock hard now, frantic, messy, leaking precum down his fist.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

"You’re a fuckin' angel... my angel... gonna come just from lookin’ at you, sugar, fuck—"

You whimpered, thighs pressing together at the filthy, desperate sound of him.

At the way he stared at you like you were some vision he’d conjured out of a fever dream.

He fisted himself harder, faster.

Head thrown back against the wall, jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his neck stood out sharp and aching.

"Touch yourself, baby," he gasped.

"Please— wanna see you fall apart for me."

You whimpered again but obeyed —

hand sliding between your thighs, fingers brushing your slick folds.

The moment your fingers touched your clit, Rafe growled.

A savage, broken sound that made your knees shake.

"That’s it," he snarled.

"Rub that pretty little clit for me... show me how you get off, sugar... show me how sweet you sound when you come."

You couldn’t hold back anymore.

You circled your clit with trembling fingers, hips rocking helplessly, gasping his name over and over.

Rafe jerked himself harder, breathing ragged, cock twitching in his hand.

Watching you fall apart pushed him over the edge.

You saw it happen —

the way his whole body stiffened, the way his hips jerked up off the bed —

the way he roared your name as hot ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles, dripping down his fist, messy and feral.

"Sugar — fuck — fuuuck—"

He kept stroking himself through it, chasing every last drop, moaning low and wrecked.

His eyes locked on you the whole time —

wild, fevered, possessive.

Like he’d burn the whole world down just to keep you right there.

All his.

Forever.

tags: @xoxobellamy , @hanneh69 , @marinrscomplex , @love-4-rafey-lando

#smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x reader #camgirl!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #innocent!reader #x fem!reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe Cameron x reader smut #outer banks rafe #outer banks smut #dark themes #stalker!rafe

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jetblack4realz · 2 months ago

Text

protector - haymitch abernathy

hey hello (also kinda prologue)

masterlist

your grandmother sure has a soft spot for that district 12 rascal - and she's convinced you will too.

warnings: sexualizing, allusions to sa and gross people, spoilers to sotr, age gap of like 3 years

word count: 1.3k

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

mags had done a really good job preparing you to enter the wild world that was the capitol. she warned you about smiling judgements from everybody and the strange clothes and drinks that make you throw up so you can just keep eating. you knew all about caesar flickerman and his awkward and too blunt questions. and you knew, even, that victors were used as tools for snow to make more money, earn loyalty, and win the support of many hunger games sponsors.

you just didn't know that she really meant you.

you, the newest and brightest young victor, 18 years old and easy on the eyes, a shining star from district 4, the golden new heartthrob of the capitol that had men way into their late forties salivating at the thought of meeting you.

you were the best target.

"why was he looking at me like that - and why did he say that? that was completely crude and disrespectful and he acted like i was some girl who he had easy access to, like a bloody slab of meat, and why-" you turned sharply to your grandmother, "do you have no reaction?! why aren't you saying anything? why do you just sit there and listen to me and not do anything-"

"my dear," mags sighed, a hand in the air to cut you short. "i tried. i do try and i will continue to try, but i told you. i told you before you volunteered, before your games, and before this party - this is snow's way. this is his game. the gamemakers and sponsors, they can do whatever they want in the arena he couldn't care less but here, in the real world... he loves to play this game."

"but this is my life, gigi," you breathed out, sitting next to her finally. "i can't - i won't be played like this. i can't handle it. i should've listened to you."

"you should've." she nodded and finally met your eyes. "but you can still listen to me now."

you sat straighter, your brows furrowing but you nodded anyways. "i'm listening, gigi."

"there's a boy that i mentored a few years ago - young, charming, a bit of a throwaway victor because he was rebellious. the capitol loves it, they consider him more of a rascal as opposed to a threat but snow... he hates him because he can't use him. i think he could be a great help to you, help protect you in ways that i can't," mags explained.

you let out a breathy laugh. "you can't mean-"

"haymitch abernathy."

"but, he's all out for himself. he won't help someone like me. i - i'm a career, a volunteered tribute who was an idiot enough to do it. he won't help me," you told her, shaking your head.

"he will."

"i doubt it."

"he's already agreed," she said. a small, sad smile pulled at her lips. "it's another game you'd be playing if you go along, but at least you have some control over it. and you have a partner. and we both know that having a partner in the capitol's games can help your chances of survival."

you considered her words even though you knew immediately she was right. you just couldn't wrap your head about the idea of haymitch abernathy - the victor of the second quarter quell, the only living victor from district 12, famed for his solidarity and genius and charm and brewing of illegal alcohol - helping you.

"what's the play?"

"you flirt. pretend to be a couple. it's your only chance of snow leaving you alone, if you're in a very active, very public, and very popular relationship," she answered with a sigh. "i know it's not ideal, but sweetheart, i think it's the best chance you have."

you hesitated again, but only to ask: "he's a good man? you like him?"

mags didn't hesitate with her response, only smiling slightly. "he's a good boy. his heart is in the right place. and he's got spirit, spunk - i think you two would get along really well."

"okay," you breathed out, nodding as you looked up from your hands to meet her familiar seagreen eyes. "if he's in, i'm in. i'll take my chance."

"he is your chance. and he's waiting to meet you," she said, squeezing your hands before standing from the couch in the greenroom and nodding towards backstage. "come along now. caesar is set to interview him in a couple of minutes, just a bit before you, and i'd like you to meet beforehand."

she ushered you along sidestage to the massive curtain that made up caesar's backdrop, making sure to stay quiet as you crossed behind it to where you just noticed a messy tuft of sandy blond hair slip to.

he was taller than you expected, and had more muscle too. you figured it had to due with the last few years of finally eating right, but still, with all the alcohol you heard he consumed you were impressed with how he held himself.

his eyes were a deep gray that flashed blue as he turned his head, and they softened when they spotted your grandmother, settling into a clear silvery ocean color when they finally rested on you. his posture straightened, the glass in his hand never swishing or threatening to spill even as he crossed a few steps to meet you both.

"hello haymitch," mags said with a smile.

"hi mags," he answered, matching her smile genuinely. he glanced behind her to you, one brow twitching up as his smile grew a bit lopsided. "hey."

"hello," you said, bouncing on your heels a bit as you heard caesar's interview wrap up and edge closer to yours at the end of the night. "i'm-"

"mags' granddaughter, i know," he said, waving his hand with the glass and not spilling a drop. "i watched the games. you were very impressive."

you'd gotten that a lot. "thanks."

"quite honestly i thought you were going to fail. that dry as hell desert was a far cry from district 4, but you held it together," he hummed. "good job."

you shifted on your feet, offering him a bit of a smile. "i do my best."

"haymitch is good at that too," mags said, glancing between you and the boy. "especially out here in the capitol. he can show you the ropes."

it was like ropes was a keyword for something they'd previously discussed, because as soon as it left her mouth his eyes were back on you with a strange intensity that turned them back to steel gray. he tilted his head. "yeah? you want that?"

you had to break eye contact with him to breathe and actually think about anything other than how annoyingly perfect his face was, especially for a district 12 boy. and then the only thing you could think about was going out to meet caesar for the fifth time since being in the capitol and how every word you said was like honey to some psycho sponsors who was just waiting for snow to let them sleep with you.

you chewed on your lip, your eyes on the curtain and your ears trying to tune out the laughing crowd behind haymitch. and then, with a nudge from mags, you finally met his gaze and nodded. "yeah. that'd be great."

"okay," he agreed. and then, all at once, his seriousness was gone and a boyish smirk was on his lips. he took a dramatic sip of what you assumed was some sort of whiskey and then stepped back, his hand in the air in a vague gesture to the stage. "and that's my cue. wonderful seeing you ladies."

your brows furrowed as he stepped away, glancing at your grandmother. "what's his cue?"

and then you heard the laughter change to applause and then as he slipped out of sight onto the stage they turned into screams and whistles and loud universal giggling.

"they love him. they want him. they can't have him," mags told you, a small smile on her lips. "and when he's yours, you'll be untouchable too."

#haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy #sotr #thg sotr #sunrise on the reaping

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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

Text

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You and James bake gingerbread cookies.

Genre: Fluff <3

Warnings: none

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

The kitchen is a mess. Bowls of icing, jars of sprinkles, and an army of gingerbread cookies lay in organized chaos on the table. You're sitting on the stool, your arm draped over your bent knee, as you look over the gingerbread house, meticulously adding gumdrops to the roof, while James sits across from you, attempting to decorate his third gingerbread man.

"Jamie, why does your gingerbread man have sunglasses?" You ask, looking up at the poor little man James is holding.

"Because he's cool," James answers, holding up the cookie proudly. "Get it? Because it's cold in the snow?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Real smart, love."

"Thanks!" James beams and sets his cookie down, reaching for another plain one. The Christmas music plays softly in the background from James's father's old record player and he hums along. He pauses and looks at you expectantly, "He has character, don't you think?"

"Yeah, he does." You smile, turning your attention back to the house you're making, carefully outlining the windows in green icing. You bite your cheek, adding white icing as the snowflakes. You're so focused on your task that you barely hear the cupboard door creak open as James searches inside.

"What are you looking for?"

"Just getting more sprinkles," he replies casually.

There is something in his tone that makes you pause. You turn around, catching him with a fully decorated gingerbread man into his mouth as his hand lays near the plate on the counter, just below the cupboard he'd used as a distraction. James looks like a deer in headlights.

"James!" you shriek, pointing your icing bag at him like a weapon. "Tell me that wasn't one of mine?"

James freezes, cheeks puffed full of the cookie. "No!" he insists through a mouthful of cookies, catching the spilling crumbs in his hand.

You stand, rushing to him and pushing him aside. "Don't you lie to me, James Potter," you exclaim, narrowing your eyes. You look at the plate, where four perfectly festive gingerbread men had been, now missing her favorite one.

"Oh, James! You ate Gingerbread Santa!"

James's cheeks burn pink as he swallows sheepishly. "If it makes you feel any better, he was delicious…"

You gape at him, spinning around and hitting his chest. "Bloody hell! Do you know how long it took me to pipe his little hat!"

"I'm sorry! You're just too good at this, they look so delicious. It's impossible to resist."

You cross your arms, pouting, but the corners of her mouth involuntarily curl up. "Well, aren't you gonna make it up to me?"

"Okay, okay," James says, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll make it up to you."

You don't have the time to ask how as he hurries back to the table, grabs one of his undecorated cookies, and begins to work. You walk over, peering over his shoulder. He's using too much icing, layering it on in messy swirls, and has trouble sticking the gummy bears where the buttons should go as the icing sticks to his fingers. You hold in a laugh when he finally finishes it and holds it up to you with a flourish.

"There. A new and improved gingerbread Santa!"

The cookie is a disaster. Its frosting face is lopsided, its coating patchy and the buttons crooked. Santa has a crooked smile that somehow looks both apologetic and terrified and you scrunch your nose, bursting into laughter. "Improved? James, it's hideous."

"Hey," James frowns, looking at his creation with care and adoration. "Don't be mean, he's absolutely lovely." He holds it out to you and then breaks the cookie. You gasp, a little surprised.

"Oh, you broke him."

He laughs and hands you the bigger piece of the cookie. "They're meant to be eaten," James teases as he takes a bite, "and they're delicious. Courtesy of moi, for baking them."

You roll your eyes. He's right. He might not be the best at decorating them, but he'd baked them for you perfectly.

You smile and bite into the cookie, frosting hitting your nose. It tastes delicious. You suppress a smile. "Well, next time please ask before you eat my Santa." James moves closer and swipes his thumb over the frosting on your nose, bringing his thumb to his mouth with a smile.

"Will do, love." He kisses your lips as an apology. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't sound very sorry at all, but you aren't very mad so it doesn't matter.

"Apology accepted," you say and then pull on his arm, turning him around. "No help me with this house!"

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thevoidscreams · 3 months ago

Note

Mating Press March request here!

Can we have some Guilliman desperate to have a normal, loving family with his pretty little wife? He wants kids SO bad and Lady Guilliman looks particularly sexy today....

Thanks!

Giving him something other than some pencils to push. ;3

Warnings: Breeding, descriptions of violence, discussion of child birth (None graphically), free use sexually, biting, rough sex.

Words:2150

Guilliman watched the pict feed as the planet below him burned, the charred and brutalized remains of xenos bodies gave him a quiet measure of satisfaction but he did not voice it allowed. The movement of the crew around him was a reminder of what they were doing this for. This endless conflict. Ripping apart pocket after pocket of the tryanid's fleet. When one went down two more sprang up to take its place.

He'd been down on the ground not even twelve hours before. He could still feel the leathery flesh of his enemy and their solid bony chitin coming apart under his blade, the crack of bolter fire still echoing in his ears as he recalled the bloody splinters of flesh and bone that splattered the earth of this planet from each shot. He wasted not a single round as he fought back the tide. His presence gave his men the renewed vigor to keep fighting.

"My lord. We've taken the city square." The vox came in cut through with bursts of static and the rapid staccato of bolter fire, finishing the final few xenos that still writhed against the oncoming tide of blue armored bodies.

"Excellent work, how are your reserves of ammunition?" "They are low my lord. The tyranids did not go down without a fight. I have one clip left, as do most of my brothers." "Hold the square, I will send down reinforcements and more munitions." "Understood my Lord."

The vox cut as the human crew around him rushed to make ready a drop ship to carry down more bolter rounds and flamer canisters.

A younger hand found himself within reach of the Primarch and he nodded in deference to the towering transhuman as he went about relaying orders through the proper channels. What was his name again? Riko? Rilo? No, it was Rito. The primarch found his urge to speak to the human to be oddly palpable and so he did. "Rito." The man jumped as he turned his gaze up to the primarch in shock. "Yes, Lord Guilliman?"

Guilliman wasn't sure what to say but he'd recalled the conversation he'd overheard earlier between the man and another, most likely a friend by the sounds of their conversation. "I heard you earlier, you mentioned your wife was in the medicae. Is she well?"

The man suddenly smiled as if he was incapable of stopping the spreading joy. "Oh quite, my Lord, she's just given birth. I'm a father." Roboute found himself quietly happy about the news. "That is good news indeed. Congratulations. Have you named the child?" "Yes, his name is Andre. After my wife's late father. He's only a few hours old and already he has the old man's scowl." The primarch nodded."Is she well after the birth?" "It was a long process, more than a day, but she is recovering." "Good to hear. I wish you and your wife luck with little Andre then." He nodded down to the baseline man and he took his leave, returning to work.

He couldn't shake the feeling the conversation left him with. Hearing the good news and returning his gaze to the feed left him tired in a way. His hands itched to know what that small weight would feel like, a babe of his own. A child not only of his gene stock but of his actual genes. The mental image of you sprang to mind as he pictured it. You, corralling a small army of your children as he worked. It was an enticing mental image.

"Calgar." Roboute spoke, not needing to turn to know that his gene-son had come immediately. "Yes?" "Take this station for me. There is a matter I must see to, in person." Calgar didn't question the order, simply followed it as he took over for his gene-sire. The walk down to his quarters from the bridge was too long for his liking. He stopped into the armory on his way. The tech priests seemed to take their sweet time removing his battle plate and with each minute he grew more impatient. "Could we hurry this along please."

To their credit the augmented humans did, performing their rituals with more haste. It still took almost half an hour.

Roboute had been grateful to the healing and assistance he'd received to finally be able to live without the armor. It allowed him to finally enjoy the regular aspects of living that he'd missed out on after he'd awoken from his coma. Such as having a little wife waiting for him in his quarters, with which he could dine and speak with on personal matters and even, other things.

He felt a regularly suppressed appetite beginning to grow in lower body. He pictured your body pressed beneath him as he gave you the child you'd both eagerly craved since the wedding some months before.

When the door to the unit opened he found you curled up on your bed with a book. You looked so comfortable even as he entered and you set the book aside excitedly. "Roboute! You're back early!" He stopped at the edge of the bed peeling away the skin tight glove that helped him interface with his armor more readily.

You hugged him around his now bare torso, enjoying the heat of his body. "Is everything okay Robu? You're not usually back until much later." He smiled. "Yes, my love, all is well, I just needed to see you." One arm encircled your form and he finished pushing down his body glove down below his thighs where he could finish removing it with just his legs alone.

Freed at last he lifted you up and further onto the bed, his hands tugging at the fabric between the two of you. Your heart raced as he disrobed you, pushing you down onto your back as he loomed above you.

"I see you needed more than just a hug." You sighed happily. "Forgive my impertinence in this matter, my love. I have a terrible need for you." He explained, not at all actually sorry as he slid his cock into your warmth without a moment's hesitation. Not that you cared in the slightest that he'd left his post to come lavish you with attention and sex. "Not at all. If I had known my husband would be coming home early to ravage me I would have worn something less restrictive and left myself bent over the edge of the bed to make it more convenient."

He chuckled and kissed your cheek as he began to thrust, it drew a beep moan from him, and you felt every bit as elated, your . His cock stretched you in the most delicious way, leaving you gasping under him, just how he liked it.

His mouth traversed down from your cheek to your throat. peppering the tender skin there with a myriad of kisses. He loved the way it made you writhe and giggle, which in turn made the muscles in your stomach clench and squeeze his cock oh so delightfully.

If he could spend the rest of his immortal life with you just like that it would be more than he felt he would deserve. His kisses finally landed on your lips, you welcomed them with kisses of your own until your lips melded together in perfect sync your arms wove around his neck, hugging him closer as he fucked you in gentle measured strokes. "You know you can be a bit rougher than that. I can take it." He pressed his forehead to yours. "I do not wish to rush this. I want to ensure that we are both satisfied by the end and that I do this right. I have a desired outcome from this." "Oh, and what would that be?" You panted. He fell back on an old habit as he replied. "Theoretical, if I come inside you there is a chance that you will become pregnant." You moaned at the idea. Enjoying the thought that he'd come all the way down from the bridge just to try and knock you up. "Practical, the more you cum inside me, the higher that likelihood." "True enough." He ground out as he felt you begin to return the kisses he'd given you earlier. Your mouth moved over his neck till you felt the powerful pulse of his double heart beat. In a moment of pure desire you nipped the spot. Roboute's hips jerked forward at the feeling. "Oh, enjoy that did we?" You chuckled. He groaned. "Cease." "Hmmm, theoretical, I keep doing it?"

Roboute growled, his voice a low threat as he returned. "Practical, I will plow you into this bed until you cannot move from it." Well that was your choice made for you, you latched your teeth into the spot again and felt the snarl he let loose as he wrapped an arm under your body, pinning you to his chest as the other grasped the edge of the bed to sturdy himself. He drew out slowly at first and you grumbled against his throat. "I warned you."

It was all the warning you received before he snapped his hips forward, impaling you on his cock with more force than he ever had before. It felt as if he shifted everything in your body. "Robu!" You cried but he didn't respond, only continued his rough pace and forceful thrusting, the bed squeaked under the force. Your teeth had lost their grip on his neck but he hadn't seemed to notice. Neither did you, too caught up in being his personal fleshlight as he hissed and came hard. You felt a bit disappointed but then, he didn't stop. He pressed even more of his weight onto you, forcing your legs up further. Roboute growled something unintelligible as he rutted into you with what felt like reckless abandon. His forehead pressed into the bed next to your ear and you began to gather bits and pieces of his mumbling.

'Going to fill you.' 'So full you can't walk.' 'Going to empty my balls in you.' 'Keep you nice and pregnant.' He'd let himself dive head first into his need to impregnate you, his need to breed overwhelming him.

His hips didn't slow as he came again, and with the force of his cock rutting into you and the things he was mumbling, you fell right over the edge with him.

"Roboute!" You cried out, your body tightening around him. He continued through his orgasm, painting your insides white with his seed and he went on. 'Perfect, so beautiful, my love.' He nuzzled the side of your head. Whatever switch had flipped in his brain, he's clearly needed this for a while. Your hug around his neck tightened as you replied to his ramblings. "I love you Roboute." He groaned and let go of the bed, wrapping both arms around you. "I love you too." He panted as he came back to himself bit by bit as his lips found yours once more. His body pressed you into bed further all the while kissing you as he dragged another orgasm from your tired body.

He came two more times, filling you as he promised. He rolled off of you after gathering himself. He felt thoroughly drained.

"Think that did it?" You laughed as you ran a hand through your hair to try and put it back to some semblance of order. Roboute grabbed a brush and set to helping you. "I hope so." You rested your back against his chest, and lay there basking in the moment. "I did not hurt you did I?" He inquired, setting aside the brush in favor of a lotion which he intended to use on you.

"I might have a bruise where your balls kept hitting my ass." You smiled impishly. He grunted. "Be serious here." You let him take your arm in his hand as he began massaging the lotion into your skin.

"I'm okay Roboute. I promise." You let him tend to the rest of you. Massaging and kissing his way over your body.

"I assume you have to go back to the bridge to oversee things?" "I do, yes." "Can I come with you?" You asked, and he hummed. "Why? There isn't much for you to do." "Sure there is. I'm going to need to start practicing aren't I?" "Practicing? Practicing what?" "Bossing around a bunch of your kids. I figure Calgar would be the perfect place to start." His laugh was warm as he nodded. "Very well, my love. You may join me on the bridge." "Yes! Thank you Robu." You gave him a quick kiss, and hopped off the bed, to gather your clothes.

Roboute stood to join you in the activity. Replacing his body glove as he prepared a list of explanations for his poor unsuspecting chapter master.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch #mating press march #my writing #reader insert #roboute guilliman x reader #roboute gulliman

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candycandy00 · 11 months ago

Text

Once Upon a Time - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Sleeping Beauty featuring Sukuna! After your parents are killed, leaving you as the young queen, you hire the mysterious and violent Sukuna to be your Captain of the Guard to protect you from an evil fairy’s curse. You’re in love with him, but he just keeps refusing you!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Read Choso x Rapunzel Here!

Read Toji x Snow White Here!

Read Higuruma x Little Mermaid Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Reader as Sleeping Beauty, Sukuna as her Captain of the Guard. Violence/Blood. Rough fingering.

Any feedback is adored! Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

It’s a beautiful day in town again, the weather warm, the sky blue with fluffy clouds drifting by, birds singing… and a would be assassin rolling on the ground, screaming in agony as blood pours from his wounds.

The nondescript man had posed as a villager, smiling to you as you walked by and holding out a peach to you. Villagers often give you small gifts like these. You’re now their queen after the very recent deaths of your parents, themselves killed by an assassin just like the man wailing before you.

As you reached out to take the peach, thanking him for his generosity, his hands were suddenly sliced from his arms, causing the peach to fall to the now bloody dirt. You looked around in alarm, spotting your Captain of the Guard standing nearby. You hadn’t even seen him draw his sword.

The Captain, named Sukuna, strolls over and picks up the bloody peach, ignoring the assassin quickly bleeding out beside it. He pulls something tiny, almost invisible, from the fruit. “A needle,” he says, holding it up so that it glints in the sunlight.

How did he notice that? Oh well, that’s why you made him Captain of your personal guard. “Thank you, Captain. Your vigilance has saved me again.”

The other townsfolk are whispering and looking at the assassin with scared, worried faces. Sukuna raises his leg and brings his boot down on the man’s head, crushing it into a gooey mess. You wish he’d found a more tactful way of disposing of the would be killer.

You address the townsfolk in your most soothing voice. “I apologize for the trouble. I’ll send someone to clean up this mess as soon as possible. Please continue about your business!”

No more explanation is necessary. Everyone in town knows why a needle is as big a threat to you as a sword.

When you were an infant, a wicked old fairy laid a curse upon you. If you ever prick your finger on a needle, you will immediately die. Supposedly, a good fairy altered the curse so that you’ll fall into a deep sleep for a hundred years instead of dying, or until certain conditions are met to awaken you. But you’re not certain of that part, and you want no part of any of it either way.

Your parents were desperate to save you, so they took every precaution. They banned all needles from the castle and refused to allow you to go into town, even after you turned eighteen. Now at age twenty, you’ve been forced to take the role of queen after your parents were murdered three months ago.

The old fairy of the woods apparently held a grudge. She’s been sending assassins to try to get you to prick your finger, and you highly suspect she’s responsible for what happened to the king and queen.

Newly without your parents’ protection, your first order of business was hiring a Captain of the Guard who could keep you alive until you found the fairy and put her to death. And as it happened, you met Ryomen Sukuna on the day your parents were buried.

Bandits attacked your carriage as you were riding back from the cemetery, killing your coachman and two of your best guards before a mysterious man in a cloak appeared. With seconds, he’d cut down seven bandits with his sword, as if they were made of paper. The hood of his cloak fell back, revealing a handsome face lined with black tattoos, and a feral smile as blood sprayed from the bandits and colored him red.

When finished with the bandits, he approached you, his sword still drawn, his crimson eyes burning with a strange intensity. He was going to kill you. He wasn’t there to save you, but to settle a score with the bandits. As he stepped closer, a bizarre thought entered your mind: I hope he has his way with me first.

You shook your head to cast the thought aside. Then stared him down, using your most regal voice to say, “Your skills are impressive. I want to hire you to be my Captain of the Guard.”

He paused, a look of amusement on his face. “And why would I want such a job?”

Ah, his voice was like satin.

“You would be paid exceptionally well, would live in the castle with all the luxuries that it can provide. Your own private room, all the best foods, authority and power over others…”

“And all I have to do is babysit a princess?” he asked, grinning.

“Actually,” you said, somewhat haughtily, “I’m a queen now.”

He accepted your offer, and you returned to the castle that day with a new Captain. All your advisors thought it was a terrible idea to give such a position to a man you knew nothing about, but they hadn’t seen his skill, his raw power. If he kept you alive, you didn’t care who he was.

There’s just one problem. You’re insanely attracted to him! You’ve wanted him from the day you met him, and despite him being so close in proximity to you, he remains frustratingly out of reach.

On multiple occasions you’ve made it clear that’s he’s welcome in your bed, but he always has the same response: a condescending grin while smugly saying, “You couldn’t handle me, Princess.”

Each time you remind him you’re a queen, not a princess, but by this point it’s obvious that he’s teasing you.

Now, you find yourself walking through the gardens of your castle after returning from the town, sighing as you look over the sorry state of the roses. Your parents had gotten rid of every rose bush, afraid a thorn would somehow have the same effect as a needle. But you’d accidentally pricked yourself on a thorn at your parents’ funeral, where some well meaning townsperson had given you some roses, and nothing had happened.

The next day you planted several rose bushes in the gardens, but they’re not doing well. They grew in pots but had not done well enough to be transferred to the ground.

As you look up from your plants, your heart nearly stops. Two strange men are approaching, already too close to effectively flee from. You turn your head, to call for your Captain, but you remember that he went to wash off the blood from the previous assassin. Still, there should be four other guards nearby, two at each entrance to the gardens. The fact that these men waltzed in and don’t even seem to be in a hurry tells you that all four guards are probably dead.

And, these men are skilled fighters.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my gardens?” you ask, trying to get them talking, trying to buy time until Sukuna returns. No matter how skilled they are, he would utterly destroy them.

One of the men, tall with long shaggy hair and beard, chuckles. “I think you know what we’re here for, Your Majesty.”

The shorter of the two, who looks like he hasn’t bathed in weeks, looks you up and down like a piece of meat. “She’ll really fall asleep if we stick her with a needle?” he asks the other man.

The taller man shrugs. “Either that or die. The old witch isn’t sure.”

The shorter man looks at you with excitement. “Remember what you promised! I can do whatever I want with her afterwards!”

Your skin crawls with horror. The thought of this disgusting man touching you, even if you’re dead, makes bile threaten to rise in your mouth.

And it makes you wish even more strongly that Sukuna had lain with you. At least then the first man to touch you would be someone you loved.

Wait… loved? Do you love him, or just feel lust for him? You suppose it doesn’t matter now.

“I can give you riches,” you tell them, “beyond anything the old fairy has promised.”

The men glance at each other, then laugh. “She hasn’t promised us any riches,” the taller man says. “I just enjoy killing, and that one there only has one thing on his mind.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling it close while holding a needle in his free hand.

The shorter man’s face is getting red with anticipation as you struggle to pull your arm free. He licks his lips. “I just want some royal pussy!”

“No!” you shout, slamming your eyes shut as the needle gets closer.

*************************

Sukuna walks down the lavish hallway, freshly bathed with a new set of clothes. He doesn’t really mind being covered in blood, but his delicate little princess seems bothered by it, even if she doesn’t say so.

He finds it amusing that she tries so hard to seem strong and in charge. Maybe she thinks she is. Somehow she’s convinced herself that she wants Sukuna to fuck her. He finds the idea laughable. While she is lovely to look at, and he’d enjoy nothing more than splitting her open on his cock, he knows for certain that his tender princess would break too easily. He enjoys this job, this position, far too much to give it up now.

If he were to act on his desires, he would end up destroying her, and so he keeps himself contained. For now.

The biggest challenge was when he went into her chambers one night to check on her, moving quietly to avoid waking her, only to find her pleasuring herself in her bed. The sheets were thrown back, her legs spread wide, her back arched as she moaned his name.

She never realized he was in the room, or how close she came to being absolutely ravaged that night. He remained in a darkened corner, watching, until she finished with a cry of pleasure. He snuck back out as soon as she fell asleep.

Lately she’s been occupying more and more of his thoughts, and he doesn’t like it. He’s been with countless women, never getting attached or even remembering their names. Outside the protected castle town, Sukuna was infamous for being a violent murderer who could never be tamed or subdued. Even he didn’t know why he accepted her offer to be Captain of the Guard in the first place. It was far more like him to slit her pretty throat and leave her bleeding out on the ground.

But the more time he spends with her, the more times he watches this weak little royal try to be brave, the more endeared she becomes to him

As he nears the gardens, trying to dispel all these thoughts from his mind, he notices something up ahead: the two guards who were watching the entrance are lying on the ground in pools of blood. Knowing exactly what this means, Sukuna breaks into a sprint while drawing his sword.

Running through the gardens, he spots his princess, desperately struggling against two men, one of them gripping her hand.

He hears one of them say, “I just want some royal pussy!” and suddenly his blood is boiling. He sees the needle in the other man’s hand, getting close to one of her fingers, and he wonders if he’ll reach her in time.

Suddenly his princess kicks a pot by her feet, holding a withered plant. The pot hits the man in the leg, distracting him enough to loosen his grip. Sukuna grins as he watches her pull free and turn to see him running toward her.

“Captain!” she calls, relief evident on her face.

The other two men notice him just before he reaches them, and they turn to flee, but they’re too slow. He catches up to them in seconds, swinging his sword in an arc that cuts both of them down.

As they lay on the ground bleeding, Sukuna stands over them, his red eyes flashing with anger. “You fuckers thought you could touch her?” he asks, stabbing into the shorter one’s stomach and twisting the blade. The man howls in agony, but Sukuna doesn’t stop. “What were you saying? That you wanted some royal pussy?” He pulls the sword out and stabs it into the man’s groin, drawing another scream.

Finally the man dies, and Sukuna turns his attention to the other man, who is lying helplessly in a pool of his own urine. Sukuna is so disgusted, he finishes the man off quickly with a stab to the heart.

He turns to his princess, wondering what sort of expression she’ll be wearing. This is the closest assassins have ever came to actually pricking her finger.

Her face looks passive, calm, as she huffs and crosses her arms. “You’re late, Captain.”

She can’t fool Sukuna. He sees the way her hands tremble before she balls them into fists, hears the way her voice quivers even as she tries desperately to project nonchalance.

He remembers hearing from a servant that the princess refused to cry when her beloved parents were murdered. She had immediately realized she was queen now, and she has a duty to hold this kingdom together in a time of turmoil. And so she pretends to be made of stone.

For over three months straight, she’s been wearing a steel mask, never letting it slip even once. Watching her stand there, clearly shaken and afraid, he wants to rip that mask off. But he won’t. At least not here and now.

“Didn’t expect two attempts in the same day,” he says, mimicking her casual tone. “The old bitch must be getting impatient.”

“I’m going inside,” she says, walking past him quickly. He follows behind, stepping over the guards’ corpses. She had only stopped for a moment to look at them, her face blank as she gave a small bow of respect. Now she’s walking swiftly to her chambers, and once inside, Sukuna shuts the door behind him.

She looks up as if surprised to see him. “I wish to be alone for a moment,” she says. “Please wait outside my door.”

He steps closer until he’s right in front of her. “You’re trembling,” he tells her, placing one hand on her shoulder.

A tiny flicker of panic flashes across her face, but she quickly recovers. “I am not trembling! I’m just… I just…”

He looks down at her, his face softening. “You don’t have to feign strength with me, Princess. In all the world, the one place you can let yourself be weak is by my side.”

Her eyes are becoming wet as they stare up at him. He moves his hand from her shoulder to her face, his fingers gently grazing her cheek.

“I was terrified,” she whispers. “The things they planned to do to me… I can’t bear the thought!”

Sukuna feels the powerful urge to comfort her, to draw her into his arms, but he maintains his control. Instead, his hand slides down a bit, caressing her jaw, his thumb rubbing over her plump, painted lips. He leans in closer. He wants to kiss her, to claim her, but he won’t. He pulls away, deciding he needs to put some distance between the two of them, lest he do something he’ll regret.

A look of hurt passes over her features as he turns away from her and walks a few steps away.

That’s when he hears her voice behind him, still fragile and raw, say, “Coward!”

He freezes. The word sends a spike of anger through him, bordering on rage. He stomps back to her, not knowing if he wants to kiss her or hit her. She’s looking up at him defiantly.

“You don’t even know what you’re saying,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “You want a man like me to fuck you, a dainty virgin princess? I’d tear you apart.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “Stop acting like I’m some lovesick teenager. I’m a grown woman. And I’m a queen, not a princess.”

Something in him snaps. He moves forward, closing the small distance between them in three steps, and roughly turns her around to face the tall window in her bedroom. His hands yank up her dress, diving under the layers of satin and lace, finding the flimsy panties beneath and ripping them off. She makes a sound, something between a gasp and a cry, clearly surprised.

One hand shoves between her soft thighs, squeezing and groping the delicate flesh there, feeling how wet and slippery she already is. His callused fingers, the fingers of a killer who never should have been anywhere near this woman, part her slick folds and find her sensitive clit. He rubs it harshly, having no experience being gentle with anyone.

She cries out, her shaking legs buckling beneath her. He wraps one arm around her chest, under her arms, holding her upright as his other hand relentlessly strokes her most tender places. Her quick, shuddering breaths are like music to him as he finally releases her clit and instead plunges one thick finger into her tiny, dripping hole.

*****************************

This is what you want, what you’ve wanted for three months: Sukuna’s hands on you, pleasuring you, his firm body pressed against yours.

His fingers are rough, one of them shoving inside you, making you jerk. And when he pushes a second one in, you feel a sting as your body stretches around him. You whimper, your body already collapsed and being held up by him.

Then you hear his voice in your ear, “You want my cock but you can’t even handle my fingers, princess.”

He’s pumping them in and out, his palm rubbing against your aching clit. You let out a moan that sounds more like a sob, your hands gripping his arm. “Please,” you say, your voice broken, desperate for release, “m-make me cum!”

You can feel his hot breath on your neck as his fingers curl inside you, touching something that’s never been touched before. You scream, your body going completely limp in his grasp. You cum in his arms, twitching with pleasure, your pussy sore and stinging from the two fingers still lodged inside it.

He keeps them there until you ride out your orgasm, then finally withdraws them and lowers your spent body to the floor. You’re left on your knees, panting, your own fluids dripping out of you. It takes you a moment to realize your face is wet with tears. Were you crying?

You look up in time to see him licking his fingers clean, and the lewd sight has you hungering for more. You stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to tear your dress off and have his way with you. Instead, he gives you a disdainful look.

“That’s all you’re getting from me. I’m not going to ruin you,” he says.

“You keep saying that! Maybe I want you to ruin me!”

He looks down at you, red eyes gleaming with anger. “You turned into a crying mess when I put two fingers in you. What do you think will happen if I shove my whole cock into that tight little pussy?”

You glare back at him. “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out!”

He grumbles something under his breath, then turns away from you again. It almost sounded like he said, “Don’t tempt me”.

You practically growl in frustration as you climb to your feet and head to your private washroom to clean up.

It’s later in the evening when you’re standing in your room, looking out the very window he pressed you against earlier. You touch the glass, remembering how his fingers felt. You turn around, angry at yourself for getting heated again, angry at him for leaving you unsatisfied. You could die or fall into a deep sleep at any moment! Why can’t he understand that you want to be with him before that happens?

You feel something soft brush against your ankle, and you look down to see Briar, the cat that lives in the castle to kill rats, rubbing his face on you. Bending down, you scoop him up and pet his back. “Have you been doing your job properly?” you ask, scratching his ears as he purrs.

You hear your door opening and look over to see Sukuna walking in. He hasn’t spoken to you since the… incident earlier. Will he apologize? Or maybe tell you he’s leaving? He’s an unpredictable one. You brace yourself for whatever he has to say, your hand absently rubbing Briar’s fur.

Suddenly you feel something sharp. You wince and Briar jumps down from your arms. You look at your finer, seeing one tiny drop of blood.

Oh no.

The conniving old fairy used the cat!

You look up at Sukuna, holding up your finger. There’s a look of horror on his face as he breaks into a run. But it’s too late. Everything is going dark. You hear him shouting your name, feel his strong arms catch you before you hit the floor, but your eyes slide closed, and you see nothing more.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader

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abstractvanity32 · 6 months ago

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Season 3

Random TF Blurb - Wife’s Revenge

Tiffany was raddled. She found out for the last 7 months, her husband has been cheating on her. So she decided to use this concoction on her husband. It was an old cursed potion her mother and grandmother taught her when she was young.

Before her husband Pete went off for his “late-night” office run, she slipped the potion into his coffee as he drank it Tiffany watched with anticipation but nothing happened. Did she get something wrong?

Pete just smirked and went off to the dingy motel he and his mistress Chloe always went too. Chloe was in her early 20s and embraced Pete. What Tiffany didn’t know was the curse was gonna have the weirdest effects for Pete’s night.

The duo went into the room, and Chloe went into the bathroom to freshen up. She felt a strangeness in her skirt. She looked down to see her thong has become a pair of white briefs.

Within seconds that felt like minutes, Chloe began to grow and expand. Her height towered to 6’5. Her feet bursted through her heels as she had to rebalance herself as she saw them thicken and widen until they were large size 15 feet.

Her hair shortened and face chiseled as she just watched in complete terror. Her breasts vanished, as her chest toned and her shirt ripped off. He quickly took off his skirt leaving him just in his briefs. He looked in awe, as there was something stirring in his head.

His mind was changing as he looked at his face continuing to change and get more masculine. His torso formed lean muscle, as his hands thickened. Body hair grew lightly on his body, as Carrington looked back with a smirk.

Carrington was a devious male prostitute who liked to rob the older men who picked him up. Pete was getting impatient on the other side of the room. Weirdly he didn’t hear one thing of Chloe’s struggled.

“Babe. You ready” he said annoyed.

Carrington then came out of the bathroom. His toned body just in briefs, and now taller then Pete.

“Who the fuck are you?” Pete asked.

“Doesn’t matter dad” Carrington smirked, as he quickly manhandled Pete. Pete tried to put up a fight but before he knew it, he had a bloody nose and was robbed by the almost naked man.

Later that night Pete came back fucked up from this encounter. He explained to Tiffany an outlandish story of being jumped but Tiffany knew this was the potion working. She did wonder if he’d ever tell her the truth and what actually happened to that mistress Chloe.

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aegonsvhagar · 10 months ago

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Abducted

𐙚 Living among Joel’s group isn't so bad, you were fed and taken care of. The only downside? You could never leave him.

𐙚 Raider!Joel x Reader (tw: kidnapping, dubcon, reader is technically a hostage, joel is a bad man!)

AN: Listen to this, for maximum effect <3 reader is early 20s and Joel is mid-50s :3

You really missed your father. You couldn't remember what he looked like, not truly. Could not make out his features precisely, the way his face curved. Your heart dropped at the realization. The very person who had raised you, almost your entire life was gone. Viciously beat to death by the man who quietly slept beside you, his back to you.

Joel was an awful man, wasn't he? You had heard stories of him, at least a year before he had gotten to you. Your cousin returned from patrol with news of him carving up men in camps, stealing everything and leaving nothing but a butchered mess in his wake.

And for a while you couldn't believe men like that really existed, men who would take advantage of the innocent of the world. As if there wasn't already enough of that in the form of a vicious infection.

When he came to your camp, it was dark. You hadn't heard the attack at first, but rustling of the bushes around your tent made you quickly sit up. After screams and sounds of wet filled the air, tears streamed your face as he stood in front of you. Blood caked his face, fresh and new. His clothes were old and worn in. He was a truly frightening image to take in and you prepared for what you knew would come, his knife in your neck.

But it never did. A woman had entered your tent behind him, 'She's pretty.’

‘We’re takin her with us.’ he had muttered to her, and quickly turned and left.

The breaking in part was brutal, more brutal than what the soldiers had to endure you were sure. He wouldn't touch you, not yet. He left you alone for hours on end in an empty barren room, with no clothes on and realistically nothing to piss in. Then we would return, bloody and bruised and care for you, tricking your mind into believing he was the best thing for you. But after much pampering, he'd leave you on your own again. Alone and abandoned.

He would do this for a solid two months, until your will and mind shattered.

The last time, the last you could remember of that room, you had begged him to take you with him. Grabbing at his pant leg and refusing to let go, please please please.

‘Please take me with you!’ you had screamed, voice hearse.

‘Why, why darlin, what's the matter?’ he had asked you with a smirk. Joel was enjoying you, begging like this.

After all, the man had been a father. He would never force himself on someone unwilling, so in his mind; he needed you willing.

‘I love you. Please take me with you please!’ you cried.

‘You what now?’ he cupped his ear, pretended he didn't quite hear you.

Hot tears streamed your face, it was an awful position to be in. You wanted clothes, you wanted to be held. You wanted love again. ‘I love you.’

And with that, Joel had scooped you up and carried you to his room, and that’s when the sex began. Almost every night, no matter how sore you were or was from the night before. Pleasing him was the only real job you had.

Now you sat up in bed, the covers covering your bruised legs, all left over from his iron grip on them. He was not a gentle lover, nor did he make an effort to become one for you. He'd come back from his raids and take you, it didn't matter if you were doing anything. Because your only real job was pleasing him.

Sometimes, you thought about the repercussions of stabbing his throat and running. But his entire group, who worshiped Joel, would sic you like a dog and you found it wasn't worth it. And other times, you really fucking loved him.

“Darlin?” his gruff voice fills the silent room.

You quickly turn to him, watching as he rubs his eyes.

“You awake? Itso’ late”

“I’m sorry.” you murmur.

“C’mere baby.” Joel leans against the headboard and holds his arms out.

You waste no time practically launching yourself into his arms, he had bathed recently and the smell of outdated old spice (and maybe some musky cologne he had taken off a dead man’s body) filled your nose. God you missed him. He had been gone, not raiding but patrolling with Tess.

“How's my girl?” he asks.

“I’m okay. I missed you. I hate…hate it when you go.” you say, leaning into his shoulder. “When you leave, and I…can't go with you. Something dies inside me.”

You can't see it, but Joel grins. A wide grin he hasn't smiled since he held Sarah.

“What dies darlin?” he begins rubbing your back. A tactic he used after abandoning you for days, when he sat you in the bath and promised he wouldn't do it again only to do it…again.

“I dunno. Something hurts, like in my stomach when you leave.” you pull away to look at him. Joel was pretty, too pretty for you to possibly deserve. And he thought you were pretty enough to take.

“I’m not really leavin you doll, not really. Jus’ gotta go protect our little family, you know that right?” he kisses your forehead.

“I know. You wouldn't leave me.” you tell yourself mostly.

“Now, I’m glad you’re awake.” he starts. “I had a dream darlin, a good one.” Joel reaches down to his pajama pants where a tent is forming. “Think my lil doll can help her daddy?”

You nod, nervous.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. You take a deep breath and begin small kisses on his dick. He sucks in a breath and collects your hair in his hands.

You continue to kiss at his drooling shaft when he starts huffing, “Just suck it doll, don't need to be teasin’ me and shit.”

“Sorry daddy.” you murmur.

You take him all in your mouth, using your tongue to wet his dick more.

“Oh god damn, I knew you were the one… god, good girl.” he groans. It's filthy, in the gruffy voice he knew you loved. “I knew I was right to take you. Got a mouth like an angel.”

The comment made you dizzy. I was right to take you.

You continue to work him, until he pulls you off. A sign he's close.

“Come ride me darlin, let me feel that tight lil hole.” he grins at you.

You nod and allow him to undress your pajama shorts and panties off. He bunches the fabric up and brings them to his face, inhaling the scent you left behind.

Small things turned you on, you weren't sure why. Maybe proof he indeed was attracted to you and it was proof that you weren't just a toy he fucked.

Growing frustrated, Joel simply grabs you and places you on his dick with little to no effort. He's sheathed fully, he's completely inside of you. You whimper slightly.

“Now hush darlin, you’ve taken this cock about a dozen times now. Don't be so damn shy.” he tells you, shaking his head.

Joel begins pumping into you, while at the same time grabbing your hips and bouncing you on him. The movement was all too much, too dizzy. You try your best to keep up with him, but Joel is always an animal. Too insatiable to do really anything. So you do what you’ve learned to do best in these situations: you simply take it.

“Fuuuuck.” he moans. “God this never gets fuckin old. Your pussy is all mine, mine to have and mine to fuck. Got that?”

His stamina never amazed you, despite being almost over half his age he still fucked you like you’d imagine a young frat boy would. Only Joel was better. He knew what thrusts when and how to angle them to hit your little spot inside, knew how to send you seeing stars.

“You hear me?” Joel smacks you.

“Yes! I’m…I’m yours!” you agree and nod.

“Good.” he begins to pick up his thrusts. And you sat there, taking it like the good toy you have become for him. “Hate when I gotta repeat myself with you. You young people are so annoyin’, never fuckin listening.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Always are doll.” Joel kisses your forehead and his final thrusts get lazy, and he finishes inside you.

You both stay there for a little. Joel trying to catch his breath, his age truly showing. You cuddle into his chest, your head below his chin. In the beginning there were no small moments like this, only sex and he’d leave to shower or go back to Tommy.

But now, he likes to cuddle you and coddle you. Was the mean terrible raider that everyone feared…growing affection for you? No no. You couldn't delude yourself into thinking someone like him could love anyone, let alone someone he stole.

#joel miller x reader #tlou smut #the last of us #pedro pascal #:pp #raider!joel #dark!joel miller

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jellyfishsthings · 9 months ago

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WARNINGS: reader is a Velaryon with some Targaryen features but not an OC, this is just some story building there will be other parts. I just finished the books and I am obsessed with GOT wither way I was bored and this is the result so beware ... I think that's it. Also Theon is a pookie in this fic because I said so

PAIRING: fem!reader x Robb Stark (romantically), fem!reader x Jon Snow (platonically), fem!reader x Theon Greyjoy (platonically)

part 2 , part 3, part 4 , navigation

The cold wind still raged on, hitting the walls of Winterfell. Her room was one on the lower floors next to Jon's and Theon's rooms. The sunrays gently fell on her sleeping figure dragging her from her deep slumber. The fireplace was filled with ashes and the chill in her bones was reasonable. It might still be summer on the North, yet the occasional snow always drifted down from the dark grey clouds. A discreet knock pulled her out of her thoughts and Theon's irritated voice filled the room.

"If you are not in the courtyard in two minutes, I am ratting you out"

Like clock work the same words sounded the moment dawn greeted the North. It was a small routine they had formed two namedays ago. She covered herself in Robb's old furs, the ones he secretly gave to her and claimed he lost them. They had kept her warm for over six moon cycles, they had holes in several places and the edges were coming apart but it was her most prized possession. At first it smelled at him and she was always trying to bask in his scent, that was until Theon caught her smelling the neckline while wearing it and she wouldn't hear the end of it until she openly caught him staring longingly at Sansa.

Unfortunately, they were both in the same position, they wanted people they could never have, and only each other knew. They would drink together glasses of wine and they would stumble giggling around the castle. One time he had drunk so much that he composed atrocious poetry about the beauty of his lady Sansa and her copper hair and then about the Northern prince that fell in love with a girl that had mud brown hair adorned with streaks of silver grey and deep violet eyes that appeared dark blue in the right light. She knew that her appearance betrayed her ancestry the Targaryen blood that flowed in her Velaryon veins.

Her family had been brutally murdered, she had heard and read the tales of how her mother gave her life to protect her dark-haired girl and the bloody necklace that hugged her fathers throat. At the tender age of seven moon cycles her whole family had perished and she had been the only survivor. Ned Stark had found her in a bundle of fabrics crying her heart out and once he saw the sword that could have taken her head, he swore to protect her and take her in as his ward. She should have been grateful, she knew as much, he had given her everything, a warm house, plenty food, clothes and a loving family one she wasn't actually a part of and maybe that was the reason she was closer with Theon and Jon, the outsiders. It wasn't like she didn't like the Starks, she loved them to bits and yet she could never be one of them. She would be the squire under their Maesters care with her nose hidden in ancient books and scrolls, lost in maps and various languages and basic training as a healer. But her new passion was sword fighting. As a woman she had only been allowed to practice archery that she was quite good at and always betted with the boys around their performance.

And that was how Theon found himself at incredibly early hours with a wooden sword in his hand, frowning at drawings of fighting styles freezing his "balls" off. She had bested him at the fine art of combat at practically her fifth lesson in a few hits. She had a strategic mind and she was quick on her feet, the most perfect and most deadly combination that existed.

He pitted the man that would take her as his wife, because most men were incredibly controlling but there was no chance, she wouldn't get things her way. He was proof enough.

She had the three of them wrapped around her little finger from all those years back. She had grown up with them from when she was a babe, but at her seventh nameday her and the Maester left, since she was his squire, she had to follow him, he had taken her under his wing, she had practically been his daughter, the one he never had. At that day and several later they had cried so much that even Lady Stark was regretting her decision, she liked the girl enough, she had the tendency to wreak havoc and get lost in her books a bit too much, neglecting her chores and her lessons at needlepoint half the time, but she made her kids happy and she was too smart and witty for her own good that it was impossible not to have a sweet spot for the orphaned girl. She had been overjoyed when she learned about her return nine namedays afterwards. Her son, her calm and collected Robb was shuffling at his feet, nudging rocks around and toying with the hem of his cloak, the bastard and the Greyjoy ward were portraying similar behaviors and she had to control herself not to laugh at their antics.

Ned had pushed his son forth, claiming that it was around time he greeted their guests, he shot him a glare and his parented watched him as he wiped down his palms at his breeches and headed towards the carriage, his hand shook as he lightly grazed the handle and pulled the door open while staring into place, not ready to accept that his best friend might have changed. He was frozen in his place as a girl wearing a dark blue dress and heeled leather boots stood before him. She tilted her head to the right and only then did he notice her hair.

A knot at the back of her head that was a swirl of chocolate brown and silver white strands that framed her face beautifully. Her violet eyes hid a familiar mischief that he had dearly missed. She nodded at him, before facing his father and dropping into an elegant curtesy. It was as if he was on a trance, unable to tear his eyes from her form. It wasn't until he heard her voice, she was speaking in a language he didn't understand, yet he could recognize the bite on her tone. His father wore an amused smile as he answered her back. He would learn at the evening feast what had caused such reactions, the news almost swept him from his feet, his whole existence reduced to one word. Betrothed. Ever since then it was like they were walking on eggshells around her. All three of them longed for their missing link.

It wasn't until a few days latter when they invited her on a hunt that they could glimpse on what they were. They had found a boar and his in bushes only to lose their horses in the process. They had been walking for hours and all it took was an ill-fated joke from Jon.

"No. I do not love you. Of course I lied to you. Yes, it does make you look fat. No, I have never been in the Riverlands. It is pronounced Eyrie. And all of this pales to utter insignificance if we are to let ourselves be food for the hounds."

They had all been tired and snappy, making comments left and right and picking fun at her the way they used to. They had been waiting quite impatiently for her to snap back and the moment she did, loud laughter echoed in the woods. And just like that everything was back to the way it used to be.

Ever since then life seemed dreamy to Robb, he had his friends and his family all getting along and everything seemed perfect. But reality hit him hard each night knowing that the girl he fostered feelings for was promised to another.

#game of thrones x reader #got x reader #robb stark x reader #robb stark #robb stark fluff #robb stark smut #robb stark angst #jon snow x fem!reader #jon snow #jon snow fluff #theon greyjoy #theon greyjoy x reader #robb stark x you #jon snow x you #jon snow x reader #theon greyjoy x you #game of thrones #game of thrones x you #got x you

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billysgun · 1 year ago

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saving

billy the kid x fem!reader |requested!|billy comes and saves you when you're kidnapped and beaten by a rival gang|

saliva and blood poured out of your mouth before being immediately soaked by the cotton rag you're gagged with. your head felt too heavy to hold as you slowly leaned forward on the chair you were bound to.

the thick ropes needles scratched into your wrists as you felt your ribs ache once you lifted your head to the loose bulb swinging above you

you can feel your side bruising from how the gang members grabbed you and stole you away. using you as a way to get to billy.

"darlin' you're really out of it, ain't ya?"

the old man chuckled as the group surrounded you, luckily, no ones touched you since the rope was tightened around you.

you prayed billy wouldn't show. seeing how there were about 10 men around you right now, how many are outside patrolling?

it would just end with you both dead.

as your head tilted back again and the buzzing light swarmed your vision, you felt it cave into a black darkness and you went limp.

"aaand, there she goes again."

you flinched awake as the thumb pressed into your temple, lifting your head up as one of the old men examined your face

"yeah, she ain't dead" he grunted before stumbling off, your head was pounding and you felt like gagging on the cloth that was stuffed down your throat.

"stay awake for us, doll. we need ya to be here when the kid comes" the presumed leader of the group told you, you felt your legs start to slowly shake as you imagined billy being gunned down-

everyone flinched as the first shot rang out.

your eyes were wide and wild as you started chanting prayers in your mind that it was the members fighting or a stray bullet, but as the main man smiled and ushered a few men to go outside, you knew billy arrived.

"thank you for bringin' him, doll" he smiled, rotting teeth showing before taking his gun and storming outside as a few men crowded around you

another shot, another shot, another shot

"damn, why they ain't get him yet?" one of the men rasped before getting his pistol out and storming off

"guard the door, will ya?" he mumbled before leaving and you were left with 3 men surrounding you

"billy chose a pretty one, huh?" they all chuckled lowly and twirled your hair as they talked about having their way with you before ultimately murdering you

suddenly, the familiar shots of gunfire came to a stop and the men rushed to the window

"did they get him?" they whispered excitedly

"can't tell" one answered back, only then, the door behind you busted open and you let your head fall as bullets flew passed you and into the heads of all your kidnappers

you didn't even know you were crying until thick tears soaked your trousers, blood spread around your shoe as you gasped into your gag

the sound of boots quickly rushing you as your ties were off and a bloody gag from a busted lip was replaced with his lips before his wild eyes tapped your cheeks and body to make sure you were alright

"you're okay? you're okay? none of the fuckers did nothin' to you?" he asked frantically and you nodded

"nothin' but bruised ribs and a punch that knocked me out" you slurred, suddenly feeling too heavy again as you stood. he noticed immediately and scooped you up

"I'm sorry...I'm so fuckin' sorry" he mumbled in your bloody hair, tears soaking your scalp as he carried you out

your eyes traveled over the dead bodies that scattered the yard, seeing a familiar set of rotting teeth that were blown out as he put you on his horse

he rode back to your guys' ranch and he scrubbed the blood out of your hair in a warm bath before holding you tight in bed, vowing to never leave you ever again.

an: i LOVED this request sm!!! and i had a lot of fun writing it!! <333 tysm for requesting!

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spitefulsatanfics · 21 days ago

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Wings In The Garden

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“I used to be an angel. Now, I’m powerless. I’m as weak as a baby deer.”

— Castiel, Season 9, Episode 3: “I’m No Angel”

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Pairing: Castiel x Reader (She/Her)

Tone: Sweet romance, friends to lovers, healing, domestic softness, human!Cas tenderness

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 6,221

Written by: Little Devil ♡

Based on: Supernatural Season 9, primarily “I’m No Angel” and “Heaven Can’t Wait”

Synopsis: After the fall of the angels, Castiel stumbles into humanity—bloodied, quiet, and lost. You’re a hunter with a crooked smile and a soft place to land, offering him shelter in your creaky rental home just outside Lebanon. He calls it temporary. You believe him at first. But as he plants tomatoes and learns to cook your eggs just right, a quiet sort of devotion grows between the two of you—rooted deep in the garden soil, sunlit mornings, and carved initials on an old fence post.

⇢ ° • . ✿ . • ° ⇠

Part I: “The First Storm”

Castiel came to you on a rainy Tuesday.

He was soaked through, eyes shadowed and heavy with something unspoken, and when he knocked on your door with a bloodied knuckle and the weight of heaven behind his stare, you didn’t ask questions. You just stepped aside.

“Temporary,” he said hoarsely, dripping on your floorboards. “Just for a night or two.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

A lie. You knew it the moment you gave him the towel. The moment he flinched when the wind whistled through the broken window frame. The moment he accepted the flannel shirt you handed him and stared at it like it held the secrets of the universe.

He stayed.

You lived in a patchy little house on the edge of nowhere, a fifteen-minute drive from the Men of Letters bunker. Close enough to help when Sam and Dean needed you. Far enough to keep your own ghosts company in peace.

The next morning, you found Castiel on the porch. The rain had stopped, and the sun was crawling over the hills like it was shy. Cas sat with a chipped mug of coffee—he hadn’t even drunk it—and stared out at the patch of dry dirt by the fence.

“I want to plant something,” he said.

You blinked sleep out of your eyes. “Plant what?”

“Vegetables,” he said. “Something useful.”

He turned to look at you, squinting like he was still getting used to light, like he didn’t quite believe in sunrises.

“I want to feel useful.”

⇢ ° • . ✿ . • ° ⇠

Part II: “Shoelaces and Tomatoes”

You taught Castiel how to tie his shoes.

It happened on a Tuesday. (Tuesdays, it seemed, were becoming sacred.) You knelt on the porch, hands brushing over canvas laces while he watched intently, furrowed brow and all.

“Loop, swoop, and pull,” you explained.

He mimicked you slowly, clumsy but focused, as if this act—this silly little human ritual—was sacred. When he succeeded, he looked up at you like he’d performed magic.

He got dirt under his nails after that. You let him tear up the grass patch near the fence, turning the soil, making neat little rows. He read books on gardening. Sam dropped off seedlings one day, side-eyeing you both but saying nothing.

“Don’t say it,” you muttered, watching Cas talk to a tomato plant like it was a holy relic.

Sam just grinned and drove off.

Castiel insisted on cooking dinner on Thursdays. You let him. Burnt eggs became scrambled ones, scrambled became edible, and soon he was making pasta that tasted like love.

Sometimes, you came home from a hunt, bruised and bloodied, and he’d already have the bath drawn and a grilled cheese waiting. He wasn’t flashy with affection. He was practical. Steady. Warm.

You never touched.

But sometimes, when he passed behind you in the kitchen, his hand would brush your back. Just lightly. Like a whisper.

⇢ ° • . ✿ . • ° ⇠

Part III: “Fence Post Confessions”

The garden grew. So did everything else.

By June, the tomatoes were thriving. The cucumbers too. And Cas—he had freckles now. You didn’t even notice them until he looked up at you one evening, sweat beading his brow, shirt sticking to his chest in the Kansas heat.

You laughed and reached to wipe his face. He went very still, watching you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to look.

“Thank you,” he said.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the world. “For letting me be. For not asking me to be anything else.”

Your throat felt tight.

“It’s not charity,” you said. “You’re not broken.”

He smiled faintly. “I think I am. But I like how you don’t see it.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The window was open, breeze curling the curtains, and you heard movement outside. You slipped on a hoodie and stepped into the night.

Cas was at the fence post with a pocket knife. Carving.

you froze.

He turned, looking caught. “I was… I wanted to mark this. It’s something humans do, yes? When they want to remember a moment?”

You stepped closer, and your breath caught.

There it was:

C + Y/N

Rough, uneven, perfect.

You didn’t speak. Just reached up and touched his jaw. He leaned into it like he’d been waiting his whole life to be touched.

“Stay,” you whispered. “Don’t make it temporary.”

“I already decided that,” he said softly. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

You kissed him.

He kissed you back like he’d never get another chance.

And in the quiet hum of the garden, under stars and mosquito buzz, you let the moment bloom.

=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=°=

“I never needed wings to fall for you.”

— Wings in the Garden

Written by Little Devil ♡

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year ago

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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Prologue

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 7839 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together.

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

Long summary I know, but I'm attempting something that I haven't tried to do in a long time and I've had this thought in my head for ages so I've just got to get it out now. This story will cover the plot from Season One to the beginning of Season Three. Apologies if anything is vague or inaccurate, I haven't watched the show in a while and cannot be bothered going back to get it right when the main plot of this story is entirely of my own design and not canon. Also, for the sake of the growing-up-together part, I've brought Dick's family's death up so he is taken in by Bruce earlier than 12 years old. I've always loved this version of Dick Grayson (Nightwing) in Young Justice and I hope I do him justice for those of you who also loved the show and him xx

~~~

(10 years old)

'Don't worry, my beloved,' Diana said in a soothing voice, patting her daughter's head gently as the car pulled up. 'It's not so scary on the inside.'

Wayne Manor was made of grey columns and dark shadows it seemed to little ten-year-old Y/N, who couldn't shake the feeling that the house was full of ghosts. It was an imposing structure, making her wonder how anyone would choose to live in such a cold and lifeless place.

'I want to go home, Mother,' she whimpered, backing away from the car window.

Diana turned her daughter's head to face her, giving her best reassuring smile to alleviate some of her daughter's worries. 'We will, but I need to take care of something first and I can't leave you at home alone. My very good friend has kindly offered for his butler to look after you while we sort our business out. He has a son that I think you will get along with quite well.'

Y/N couldn't believe that a child lived in the scary house outside, but she knew when not to question her mother.

Her mother was always busy, it didn't matter what time of the day or night. Y/N didn't quite know what her mother did, but she knew it was dangerous, as her mother would come home with cuts and bruises, exhausted from whatever she'd just been doing. The partial truth of it all came out just last week, as Y/N and her nanny had been attacked in their small apartment in Washington DC. The nanny had locked Y/N in the bathroom when the men attacked so Y/N didn't see what happened to her. But Y/N had heard her screams, had heard the men laughing at her anguish. She'd heard her mother finally arrive and slaughter the men. And when Y/N was finally let out of the bathroom, her mother's red, white, blue and gold metallic outfit was covered in blood, as was the sword she'd dropped as she pulled Y/N into her arms tightly.

Whatever kind of work her mother and her mother's "good friend" were involved in, if she said Wayne Manor was the safest place to be when she worked, then Y/N wouldn't argue.

It didn't stop Y/N from squeezing her mother's hand to the point of cut off circulation as they walked from the car into the scary house.

'Miss Prince,' a man in a tuxedo said in welcome. He was partially bald and his moustache twitched when he spoke.

'Alfred,' Diana said, giving the older man a warm smile. 'So good to see you again. And please, I am Diana to friends and family.'

'Of course,' Alfred said, a cheeky smile on his face, 'but forgive me if I prefer to be a little old-fashioned, Miss Prince.'

'Very well,' Diana said, turning her gaze down to Y/N. 'This is my daughter, Y/N.'

Alfred smiled warmly down at Y/N, crouching ever so slightly to hold out his hand. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/N. Welcome to Wayne Manor.'

Y/N hesitated in taking his hand. She'd always been taught to be cautious around strangers.

'Come on, Y/N,' Diana insisted. 'Don't be rude.'

Y/N, with her free hand, accepted Alfred's outstretched one, giving it a firm shake like she'd seen her mother do with people she had meetings with at work and at home.

'My, you certainly have your mother's strength,' Alfred commented as he stood back up, shaking his hand a little. 'I'll be sure not to mess with you when you grow older.'

Y/N didn't have time to process what Alfred meant when two dark figures walked down a grand staircase into the lobby they stood in. As they drew closer to the light, Y/N distinguished one as a tall and broad-shouldered man with dark hair, neat attire, and a stern face. Beside him was a small child close to her height, also with dark hair and flashing blue eyes. Unlike the taller man, though, his face was bright with intrigue and mischief.

'Diana,' the tall man said by way of greeting as he reached the ground floor with the boy.

'Bruce,' she replied, walking herself and Y/N over to him and the boy. 'Thank you for offering to look after Y/N tonight.'

'Well, it won't be me personally,' Bruce replied, 'but I'm sure Alfred will be able to look after them while we're gone.'

'If I could raise you to be the man that you are today, Master Bruce, I am sure two beautiful children won't be much of a task,' Alfred called out casually as he closed the front door and exited the room.

'I've contacted Clark,' Bruce continued. 'He says he'll meet us at the rendezvous point. We should leave soon.'

Diana nodded. 'Okay.'

To her surprise, Y/N found Bruce's gaze on her, and his stern expression softened as he looked her over. 'This must be the famous Y/N I've heard so much about.'

Y/N remembered her mother's lessons on etiquette and nodded politely. 'Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne.'

Bruce surprised her again as a small smile broke out, making him look younger and less intimidating than before. 'It's nice to meet you too, Y/N,' he said, looking down to the boy beside him. 'This is my ward, Richard.'

The young boy groaned in annoyance. 'It's Dick, Bruce. You know I don't like it when you use my real name.'

Bruce sighed, but conceded. 'Sorry, this is Dick. I hope the two of you get along tonight, Y/N.'

Before Y/N could reply, Dick stepped forward so that they only stood a step apart. His blue eyes were so bright as they scanned over her, and it took all of her will not to hide behind her mother.

He squinted sceptically at her. 'Do you like sparring, Y/N?'

'Dick,' Bruce exclaimed, eyes wide with horror. 'That's not something you should ask-'

Y/N ignored Bruce's protests as she locked eyes with Dick. She saw the challenge in them, and whatever fears she had about coming here faded away. A fire sparked in her, and she couldn't help herself but grab Dick's unsuspecting wrist and flip him over her and land him on his back. Before he could get up, she pressed a knee to his neck softly as she held him down.

'Y/N!' Diana exclaimed. 'That is not how we treat-'

She was cut off by the sound of Dick laughing, a sound so pure and light it brightened up the gloomy interior of the manor. Dick looked up at Y/N, not even bothered by the fact she was an inch away from cutting off his airway. 'Oh yeah, we're going to get along just fine, Bruce.'

The last of her apprehension to the arrangement disappeared as she released Dick from her death grip and helped him to his feet, a bright smile gracing her features.

'Where'd you learn to flip like that?' Dick asked.

'My mother,' she answered proudly. 'We've practiced for thirty minutes everyday since I was eight. I've also been taking classes back in Washington in judo and karate.'

'Cool!' Dick said. 'Maybe you can teach me some moves?'

'Sure!' Y/N answered.

Without even hesitating, Dick grabbed Y/N's hand and took off running to who knew where, words falling from him like a dam that had just been broken. 'Awesome! And then I can show you some of the cool gymnast tricks I picked up in the circus.'

'You were in the circus? That's so cool!'

The two of them were lost in their own world as Bruce and Diana remained in the lobby, looking after their children lovingly before they disappeared completely. When silence filled the room once more, they turned to each other.

'How much does she know?' Bruce asked.

Diana sighed. 'Enough to know that she will never have a normal life. Not after the incident last week. I thought I had a bit more time.'

Bruce placed a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. 'I'm sorry, Diana. Truly. It's hard enough protecting a child who isn't your own. At least Dick has known death before. He knows everything.'

Diana nodded her appreciation, patting Bruce's hand before he let it drop. 'She will know, one day, what all this means. What her destiny is. Until now she has shown how much of Steve she has in her.' Diana paused at the memory of her fallen lover, feeling the tears rise up whenever she thought of him. 'But I fear she will grow to inherit my power, my responsibilities. I don't know if I'm ready to let her become that for the world. Not yet.'

'Diana,' Bruce said softly, 'she might not have a choice one day. I fear the same thing for Dick. You and I won't be around forever. The world will look to them to help, one day.'

Somewhere in the distance, Y/N and Dick's laughter resonated through the manor, giving it a warmth Bruce hadn't felt in a while. He smiled at the sensation. 'But for now, they have a choice. They can choose to be kids. Until the world no longer needs us.'

~~~

(11 years old)

'Uuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhh,' Y/N groaned as she flopped onto Dick's bed, textbook flattening over her face in defeat. 'I give up. I'm never going to pass this infuriating maths exam next week.'

All Y/N received was an amused laugh from the dark-haired boy, resulting in her throwing her textbook at his head where we sat on the floor. But Dick had always been quick, dodging the book easily. He was even more quick since they'd started training with each other since she moved to Gotham permanently for school.

She was enrolled at the same school as Dick: Gotham Academy. It was the best school in the area, and when she'd received her scholarship, her mother couldn't refuse her wishes to move. Y/N stayed in the boarding house for the most part, but being friends with the Bruce Wayne's only son certainly had its perks. Such as getting out of the boarding house whenever she needed to study and train without prying eyes.

Dick laughed again. 'Come on, Y/N,' he said, picking up her strewn textbook and offering it back to her. 'It's not so bad. We're just trying to find x.'

Y/N rolled over onto her stomach so Dick wasn't upside down anymore. 'Yes, and it is impossible! I mean, they give us nothing to try and figure out a and b, but we need them both to find out x. How?!'

When Y/N didn't take her book back, Dick put it on the ground and shuffled forwards. He did so until he was half an arm's length away from Y/N's face where it rested in her hands.

'All right, let's have a break,' he said. 'Focus on something else. How about... Ooo, I know! What would your vigilante name be?'

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed. 'What?'

'Your vigilante name,' Dick reported. 'You know, like a code name for ordinary people to refer you by. Like Bruce for example, he's Batman.'

'So like my mother too, who is Wonder Woman,' Y/N added.

Dick nodded. 'Correct. When we start fighting bad guys - and we will some day - we will need alter egos so villains don't pursue us outside of an ordinary mission.'

Y/N sat up as Dick jumped to his feet, pulling out all kinds of ninja-karate moves, many of which Y/N had taught him herself over the last year. 'I think I'll be something winged too. Batman needs to be accompanied by another flying animal, don't you think?'

'That is... logical,' Y/N admitted, though not understanding his motives for the specific topic. 'I haven't given much thought to the matter, honestly. I'm too busy trying to find this dumb x value.'

Dick landed a slam kick against thin air before he took up a normal standing position in front of Y/N. He smiled down proudly at her. 'I was thinking of just bird,' he confessed, taking a seat beside her on his bed, 'but then I thought that was boring. Batman and Bird, yeah sooooo intimidating. So I was thinking maybe Hawk, or Sparrow-'

'Why does it have to be intimidating?' Y/N asked.

Dick paused for the first time in the conversation and looked at her as if she was crazy. 'Because Batman is intimidating. I don't want to be seen as a sissy when I rock up beside him to fights. I defs won't feel the aster, then.'

'But shouldn't a hero be giving people reassurance and hope when they come to save people?' Y/N countered. 'Why would you want to be something that all people dread when you enter the door. I think a hero's name should be strong and encouraging. Something like my mother's.'

Dick rolled his eyes. 'You're just saying that because she's you're mum.'

Y/N shook her head. 'No I'm not. I've seen it first hand. When my mother shows up to lend a hand, the people cry with joy and relief because they know she will do all that she can to save them. I'm not saying Batman - Bruce - doesn't do the same thing, but I just know that when I have to be a hero, I would hope my name inspires people to keep hoping. Not fear me.'

Y/N watched Dick process her words, saw his piercing blue eyes grow distant as he looked down at his hands. For a moment, Y/N worried she'd ruined everything. That she'd overstepped. Dick and Bruce's relationship - it was more of an arrangement, in her opinion - was tenuous to say the least, the two of them always dancing on a very thin line that could snap at any moment when push comes to shove. Either way, it wasn't her place to comment on how Dick should handle his relationship to Bruce.

However, when Dick looked up to Y/n again, she was relieved to find he wasn't angry at her. In fact, a soft smile had bloomed on his lips.

'You're right,' he said softly. 'I don't have to be scary. Bruce has that all covered.'

'Glad to hear it,' Y/N replied with a a reciprocal smile. 'So... anymore ideas on your name?'

'Well, I still believe it's got to be a bird of sorts,' Dick answered. 'But let's steer clear of the birds of prey, shall we? Maybe Jaybird, or Bluebird. No, that's stupid. Raven? Nah, that's going backwards...'

'How about Robin?' Y/N suggested, and Dick's smile broadened to the point Y/N was scared he'd split his mouth right open.

'That's perfect!' he exclaimed, bringing her into a hug. 'Batman and Robin. It's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?'

'It sure does,' Y/N said, grateful to have helped.

When Dick let her go, he said, 'Now how about you? What do you think your vigilante name should be?'

Y/N thought about it for a moment, but could only come up with one name. 'I like Wonder Woman, but mother already has that. I don't think two of us would make it easy for the public, especially if she is still working.'

'That is true,' Dick replied, turning away from her as he delved into deep thought. Y/N could tell he was thinking deeply as his tongue was poking out ever so slightly - the thing he always did when he was concentrating really hard. Y/N always found it amusing since the day she met him.

Y/N jumped a little when Dick suddenly cried out with excitement. He turned back to her and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look directly at him. 'How about we take inspiration from your mother? Use part of her name to create yours. Like Wonder Girl!'

Y/N shook her head. 'No, that's really lame, Dick.'

'Wonder Kid?'

'No.'

'Wonder... Child?'

'No!'

Dick snapped his fingers and his eyes brightened as Y/N assumed a great thought popped into his head. 'I've got it: Wonderess! You know, like Wonder Woman and goddess put together!'

'Wonderess...' Y/N tested it out on her tongue, and she smiled at how easy it rolled off. It was simple, it was to the point. She could just hear the world now, shouting and screaming and crying her name for joy, for help.

She couldn't stop her smile from widening and matching Dick's. 'I love it.'

'Great!' Dick slid back down to the floor and grabbed the forgotten textbook she'd thrown at him earlier. 'Now, oh mighty and powerful Wonderess, time for you to conquer the alluding and difficult enemy that is mathematics.'

Despite her earlier anguish, Y/N felt rejuvenated and took the book from Dick and opened it back to the page she'd failed to understand. 'Then conquer mathematics we shall, oh sneaky and charming Robin.'

Dick flashed her one of his dazzling smiles. 'Oh yeah, I can see it now. Robin is going to be popular with the ladies when I'm older.'

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn't contain her smile. 'Don't make me throw this book at you again.'

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender before they both dove back into their respective homework. But after five minutes of work, Y/N had another thought.

'Dick. What does "aster" mean?' ~~~

(13 years)

When Y/N had walked into the Hall of Justice earlier that day, she never imagined that she'd end up helping her best friend and the sidekicks of the Flash and Aquaman break into a top secret and highly secured lab centre, get captured by the mad scientists running the show down there, break out and now be standing in front of the Justice League as a Superman look-alike (that they'd broke into for and out of with) stared down his creation's inspiration.

'Start talking' Batman said, finally breaking the tense silence.

Between Kaldur, Wally, Dick, and Y/N (Superboy, Y/N realised early on, didn't talk much), the story of how they ended up at Cadmus and pretty much destroyed it was eventually told. Afterwards, the blockbuster monster they'd fought was taken away by Green Lantern and some other League members. Y/N couldn't help but peak at her mother as Wonder Woman herself conversed with Superman and Martian Manhunter. For a brief moment, Diana looked her daughter's way then quickly averted her gaze. But Y/N knew from that one look that her mother was unimpressed by her actions today.

'Cadmus will be investigated,' Batman said, after Superman said a frosty goodbye to his younger clone. 'All fifty-two levels. But let's make one thing clear-'

'You should've called!' the Flash finished, crossing his arms, clearly disappointed in his sidekick's efforts.

'End results aside, we are not happy,' Batman continued. 'You hacked Justice League systems; you disobeyed direct orders; and you endangered lives. You will not be doing this again.'

Y/N's heart faltered at the very notion. Despite the wreckage and the stress and the struggles they had faced, Y/N very much liked working with Dick, with Kaldur and Wally too. Even the Superboy was enjoyable at some points. To never work with them again was not something she expected she would miss after one mission.

Kaldur and the other boys must've read her mind, as he stepped forward, standing tall and speaking with a strong voice well beyond his years. 'I'm sorry,' he began, eyes never leaving Batman, 'but we will.'

'Aqualad,' Aquaman started, stepping up behind Batman. 'Stand down.'

'Apologies, my King. But no,' Aqualad replied. 'We did good work here tonight. The work you trained us to do. Together. On our own. We forged something powerful. Important.'

'If this is about your treatment at the hall,' the Flash started, 'the four of you-'

'The five of us,' Wally corrected, looking directly at Superboy as he did, 'and it's not.'

'Batman,' Dick said, stepping to the front of the group. 'We're ready to use what you taught us. Or why teach us at all?'

'Why let them tell us what to do?' Superboy interrupted, pushing past Dick to take the lead. 'It's simple, get on board. Or get out of the way.'

Y/N joined her friends in staring down the heads of the Justice League. It was an intimidating figure they all posed, but Y/N knew she was doing the right thing. That her and her friends had done the right thing tonight.

Diana joined Batman, the Flash, and Martian Manhunter, her face unreadable and voice monotone. 'Are you sure this is the path you would like to forge, Wonderess?' she asked, her voice echoing in the crater they stood in.

Apart from Dick and Bruce, no one else (to Y/N's knowledge) knew that Wonder Woman and Wonderess were related in any manner. Not that either disguised themselves like other heroes did - purposefully hiding their faces to conceal their identities like Batman and the Flash - but neither outwardly acknowledged their true relationship either.

However, Y/N could tell her mother wasn't just asking her as her sidekick, but as her daughter. Was Y/N really prepared to risk all she had trained for, for some... strangers?

Y/N eyed the golden lasso that hung at her mother's hip, and opened her hand to summon the seemingly never-ending rope into her hand. It wrapped around several times, then glowed as Y/N clenched a tight fist around it.

'I am more certain than I have ever been, Wonder Woman,' Y/N replied, feeling the lasso urge her to speak all her truth. 'While I still endeavour to one day be your successor, my place is with my friends right now. We need to walk this path together, wherever it leads. I know this to be absolute truth.'

Y/N sucked in a breath as she let go of the lasso, feeling slightly drained from the power it had over her. Dick put a hand on her back to brace her as she recovered. Once Y/N had caught her breath, she spared Dick a grateful smile, which he reciprocated.

Just as it had been from day one, they would ride this wave together. No matter how rough.

The very next day, the five of them were taken to Mount Justice, the backup facility for the Justice League as Batman explained. Upon arrival, they met M'gann, Martian Manhunter's niece, and soon after Artemis was brought into the mix.

Soon, they were the Young Justice.

~~~

(13 years old)

'Congratulations team, you have won the day,' Red Tornado said as he laid dismembered on the ground.

The rest of the team had just reconnected as the Justice computer phased a date and time code onto one of the glass walls of the Watchtower. It read: January 01, 00:00 EST.

'Happy New Year, Justice League,' the computer announced.

To no one's surprise, Wally picked up Artemis and pulled her in for a long-awaited kiss. M'gann and Connor paired up, so did Rocket and Aqualad surprisingly.

Y/N felt uncomfortable watching them all making out, so she turned to her best friend so they could give them all some privacy. 'Hey Dick, let's go-'

But as she turned around, Y/N saw that Dick had also paired off with someone: Zatanna. This time, Y/N couldn't help but stare as the two of them made out.

Since day one of Zatanna joining the team, Y/N had noticed Dick had a thing for her. Who wouldn't? She was beautiful, she was just a year older than them but that just made her more desirable, and she was good with magic!

Something stirred inside Y/N, something that twisted her guts to the point she thought she'd throw up. Was it jealousy? No, she wasn't the jealous type. Besides, Dick was her best friend, no one could change that. He could kiss whoever he wanted to kiss. At the end of the day, they'd still talk and laugh and spar and go get ice cream together.

...Right?

'Human customs still allude me,' Red Tornado said from his place on the floor.

'You're not the only one...' Y/N mumbled to herself, standing all alone.

~~~

(16 years old)

Y/N was just sparring on a test dummy when Dick entered the training ring looking a little worse for wear, his usual mischievous smile not visible.

'Hey,' Y/N said, finishing up her combo of kicks and punches, heaving in deep breaths. 'What's up, bird brain?'

He didn't reply straight away, instead standing on the edge of the fight ring as if afraid to step out of the shadows and into the light. Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion. 'Dick?'

When he didn't respond again, Y/N walked over to him. And when she got closer, she realised why he remained in the darkness.

'Have you been crying?' she asked softly, scared to speak too loud in case he ran away.

Dick wasn't an emotional guy. He just wasn't. He was the mischievous gremlin who kept the team together with his witty remarks, charm, and sheer intelligence. And even though Kaldur had been the leader of their team for years now, Dick always wanted to be a leader like Bruce was for the Justice League. He never gave himself room to be emotional.

So for him to stand in front of Y/N with red-rimmed eyes and tear marks streaking down his face, whatever had just happened had to be so impactful it finally broke his resolve.

He averted his eyes. 'Zatanna,' he started, biting his lip to suppress sobs falling out between the words. 'She broke up with me.'

Subconsciously, Y/N had been dreaming about hearing those words for a long time. She didn't quite understand why, as Zatanna was a close friend and Dick was by far her best friend so of course she only ever wanted happiness for them. But now that Dick stood in front of her so broken and sad, Y/N only felt sorry and remorse.

'Oh Dick,' she said. 'I'm so sorry... How can I help?'

Dick shook his head vigorously, eyes still averted from her. 'Can you just... Can we spar please? I think I really need that right now.'

His tone was restrained, as if he were holding back what he really thought. Y/N had half a thought to suggest they just talk, but when he finally looked directly at her, how could she refuse her best friend? After all, she was the only one he never wore his glasses around. Even after all these years with the team, he trusted no one else but her with his identity.

The original members knew, but even then he still wore his shades around them half the time if he wasn't in his vigilante suit. But not around Y/N, though. Never around Y/N.

'All right,' Y/N conceded, walking with him back to the centre of the fighting ring. She stood in her usual starting position, hands raised and feet split ready to fight. 'Same rules as last time?'

Dick nodded. 'No flying from you, no gadgets from me. Just us.'

'Perfect.'

Y/N launched into a heated sparring match, much more heated than any other match she'd had before with him. Sparring matches are usually to practice a skill, usually some punches can be pulled. But not now, Dick was throwing himself into everything, becoming sloppy, opening himself up. While the first few jabs Y/N got in were small victories, she soon grew worried as he grew more and more reckless as the match progressed.

'You're opening yourself up too easily, Dick,' Y/N commented between heavy breaths. 'Tighten up your stance.'

Dick groaned with frustration in answer, throwing another punch at her which she easily ducked and palm-punched his abdomen hard. He stumbled back as he caught his breath, but Y/N took it as her chance to end the fight as she charged at him, crash-tackled him to the mat with a bit more super-strength than she'd been using and pinning his limbs to the ground.

Dick struggled under her, but she refused to let go. 'Concede, Grayson. Now,' she demanded.

She rarely used his last name, only when he was in serious trouble or when she really needed him to listen. So he stopped, and he looked up at her and he nodded. 'I concede,' he said between huffs of air.

Y/N nodded her head in acknowledgement before stepping off him and helping him to his feet. For years they had been the same height, but once Dick had hit fourteen, he shot up fast. He was still lean and more on the skinny side, but he was toned in certain places and he now stood a head taller than Y/N. But she didn't let his new height stop her from locking eyes with him.

'Do you feel... somewhat better now?' she asked cautiously, feeling that Dick was on the brink of an explosion, she was just unsure what kind it would be.

To her surprise, Dick's piercing blue eyes welled up with tears. 'No,' he said.

Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around him, and Dick fell into her and wrapped himself around her as if she were a warm blanket on a cold night. They stood like that - with Dick crying silently into her shoulder and Y/N rubbing soothing circles into his back - for who knew how long. A minute, two, an hour maybe. It didn't matter, Dick needed Y/N'S help so she would stay there as long for as it took.

'She said she couldn't do it anymore,' he said finally, tears finally finished running, but he still didn't break from Y/N's embrace. 'The long distance.'

'Being promoted to the Justice League is a huge commitment, Dick,' Y/N offered.

'It's not just that, though,' he said. 'I think she couldn't take me anymore. Ever since Jason-'

His voice cracked on the mention of his fallen brother, the next ward Bruce had taken under his wing. When he joined the team, Jason took over the Robin mantle, giving Dick freedom to explore a new path of vigilante identity. One outside of Bruce's shadow and the dynamic duo of Batman and Robin. He'd settled upon Nightwing - another name Y/N helped come up with - and he'd taught Jason everything he knew about being Robin and how he could find his own meaning for the role.

But Jason never got the chance to do the same for the next Robin, who Bruce mentioned would never be found after Jason's death. Jason had been killed on a mission with the Batman himself only a month ago, and Dick had secretly been a wreck ever since. He'd learnt from his sponsor who to hide his emotions, but Y/N assumed he had to let it out to someone or someones every so often. Those people were herself, and no doubt Zatanna.

Despite her bubbly and adventurous personality, Zatanna knew death, knew grief. It suddenly angered Y/N at the thought that Zatanna had dumped Dick because he was grieving and couldn't give her the attention he had become known to give her daily.

Y/N held her tongue as she pulled him tighter, though. Now was not the time to rub salt into his open and bloody wound.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me, Dick,' Y/N reassured him. 'I understand.'

He squeezed her tighter. 'First my family, then Jason, now Zatanna. Promise me you won't leave too. Promise.'

'I promise, Dick,' Y/N answered. 'I'll always be here if you need me.'

Dick finally pulled away from her, but only far enough that he still held her in his arms and she had to angle her head harshly upwards to look him in the eye. Despite the redness, Dick's eyes still shone a blue that didn't seem quite real - like the colour of the purest, cleanest ocean.

So beautiful.

'You're my best friend, Y/N,' he said softly, a grateful smile finally breaking through his sadness. 'You know that right?'

Once upon a time, Y/N wouldn't have hesitated in answering. Yes, she would say, because it was the truth. It was the truth still, but a discomforting feeling in her stomach squirmed at the words "best friend". What he meant to her went past the simple label, at least in her opinion. But she just couldn't quite put it into words yet.

'Y-Yeah, I know,' she stammered out quickly. She had paused way too long to answer. 'Just like you're mine, bird brain. Don't think a bunch of tears is going to scare me off so easily.'

She was so glad to be the one to make him laugh then. It was the most melodic sound she'd ever heard, even though she'd heard it a thousand times before. Dick could never be tiring to her.

Finally - and thankfully - Dick stepped out of her arms, allowing her to suck in air that had previously been missing from between them. But he stole it all right back when he flashed her that charming smile of his.

'Guess I'll see you tomorrow, Wonderess,' he said. 'Thanks again for the sparring. I'll be sure to tighten up for next time.'

'G-Great, good, excellent,' Y/N stumbled over her words, unable to breathe when he smiled so causally yet so beautifully at her. 'See you tomorrow.'

Dick gave her a tiny wave as he left the room. As he left, Artemis and M'gann strolled in wearing civvies. They greeted and farewelled Dick before continuing to walk to Y/N, who stood frozen where Dick had left her staring after him.

'You okay, Y/N?' Artemis asked, waving a hand in front of Y/N's face. 'Helloooooo. Earth to Y/N?'

'Maybe she's fallen into a hypnotic state,' M'gann suggested. 'Or worse! A mind ant has taken over her brain! I'll have to go inside her mind to weed it out.'

That finally disrupted Y/N from her stupor. 'No! No need for that. No mind ants here,' she frantically said just M'gann was about to enter her mind.

'Then why were you looking like Medusa had risen from her mythical death and frozen you in place?' Artemis asked, deadpan.

'First of all, Medusa was a real person. Greek Mythology is real, or therefore my mother and I wouldn't be here today,' Y/N countered. 'Second of all... I think I a have a crush on Dick.'

As soon as she said the words, she knew them to be true. She didn't need to discuss it with the girls, she already knew.

Y/N Prince, daughter of Wonder Woman, had a huge, fat crush on her best friend, and son of Batman himself, Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

'Shit,' all three girls said at once.

~~~ (18 years old)

Y/N watched with sad eyes as two of her closest friends walked away under the cover of darkness. Again. Kaldur and Artemis - the latter now legally dead - waved farewell before they entered a small submarine, on their way to continue infiltration of the Light on Kaldur's father's ship.

Two figures stepped up beside Y/N. 'Well,' Wally started, 'I guess that's that.'

'For now,' Dick said. 'I promise, Wally, we'll bring them both back.'

'Yeah, whatever,' Wally said, turning to leave. 'You're my bro, Dick. But if Artemis is really killed because of this, I will never forgive you.'

Wally's footsteps resounded through the empty fishing warehouse as Y/N continued to stare out at the ocean. Soon, it was just her and Dick.

'We should head back to headquarters,' Dick suggested. 'Someone might start to wonder where we are.'

But Y/N didn't turn to leave, still transfixed by the ocean. 'I thought I was okay with all this,' Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 'I convinced myself that this was for the greater good. But now I'm not so sure.'

'What do you mean, Y/N?' Dick asked.

'The lying, Dick,' she answered, finally turning to him. 'The secrets, the faking of deaths and undercover betrayals. If we keep this up, it'll tear the team apart.'

'It won't,' Dick reassured her, his voice so certain and sure. 'When this is all over and we explain it all, they will understand. I expect some disappointment and hostility for a while, but one day they'll understand why we did what we did. But this team we've built, Y/N, it is stronger than all this. I know it.'

Y/N shook her head, wanting to believe him but unable to put aside the horrible feeling in her gut. 'I know they are strong. I just wish there was another way for us to win.'

'Trust me, if there was, I would've taken it,' Dick said, and even with a mask on, Y/N knew he was telling the truth. 'I want all of us fighting this together. For now, we've just got to trust in Kaldur and Artemis that they will succeed.'

Y/N nodded, her gaze returning to the flat ocean waters where her friends had long since left behind. 'Maybe you should've sent me like I suggested,' Y/N said half-heartedly. 'You're a great substitute for leader, Dick. Truly. But the team took Kaldur's betrayal heavily, and Artemis and Wally were out of the game. We shouldn't have brought them back in. Wonder Girl is trained up enough to take my place. You don't need me.'

'Don't say that.'

Y/N could barely react as she was grabbed by her shoulders and forced to face Dick, who had crouched so he was eye-level to her and leaned in so she could see the slightest gleam of his pupils through the white mask.

'Don't say that,' Dick repeated, his grip on her shoulders firm and grounding. 'We do need you. You're a founding member too, Y/N. Regardless of if it were Kaldur or not, the team would've struggled without any one of us. And the only reason I was able to lead this team this past year is because I knew you had my back the entire time.'

'Really?' she asked, the one word a struggle to get out.

His expression softened and he loosened his grip. But Dick didn't release her yet. 'Y/N, you are always the one giving hope to the team whenever I can't raise their spirits. You were the one to console them after Kaldur leaving. You are strong and brave and you never give up, especially when the chips are down. And they have been down on us a lot lately.'

Y/N caught her breath as Dick released one shoulder to use his pointer finger to hold her chin up, making her look directly at him. 'It kills me that you don't see yourself how everyone else sees you. Which is amazing, Y/N. Amazing and wonderful.'

Y/N swore Dick could hear her heart thudding rapidly against her chest. In the two years since realising it, her crush on her best friend hadn't faded like she'd hoped. Instead, it had grown and blossomed but Dick still couldn't see how much she absolutely adored him. She'd resigned herself to the fact that he would never feel that way about her, and also if they were to date, then it would just make working together all the more complicated. She couldn't compromise on the team's relationship.

But as Y/N looked into Dick's eyes now, a little spark of hope flickered inside her. He was so close to her, he had to feel her heartbeat. He had to know... right?

A wind of doubt blew out the spark and she stepped away from Dick so her head would stop spinning. 'You just had to get a pun in there, didn't you?' she said, surprised at how calm and casual her voice came out all things considered.

Dick took a moment to gather himself, as if he too had been lost deep in thought. But soon that infamous smile of his stretched his lips and Y/N knew she could never say no to him. 'What can I say? I'm an opportunist.'

'I thought you were a gymnast.'

'I am also your best friend, and so I am legally obliged to slip in puns about you whenever possible.'

'Oh, do you now?' Y/N asked, lightly shoving him as she made for the warehouse door. Dick was right, they needed to head home before anyone started questioning their whereabouts.

Dick quickly caught up. 'I mean it Y/N. You are my best friend.'

'I know,' Y/N said nonchalantly, trying not to let the words sting too much. But she managed a soft smile as she said, 'And you are mine. Always have been...'

Dick flashed her a genuine smile, no charm, no hidden agenda behind it. He held his pinky finger up, to which Y/N linked her own with. '...Always will be,' he finished.

As they went home, Y/N felt better about Kaldur and Artemis' mission, as well as her place in the team. But she was now even more confused about Dick and how he felt about her. They were best friends, had been through so much together, it wouldn't be wise to ruin all that now.

But the way he'd looked at her, maybe there was a chance after all.

~~~

(18 years old)

'You're leaving?'

Y/N and Kaldur couldn't believe what they'd just heard. One minute, the three of them were discussing the team's next move after foiling the Reach's invasion plans and splitting the Light in half, and the next...

'That's correct,' Dick said. 'I just... I think I need to take a break for a while.'

'For how long?' Y/N asked, finally getting over the initial shock of his announcement. It had been a hectic day, full of surprises and sacrifices nobody saw coming. Right now, in her opinion, everyone needed to band together, not... leave.

Dick shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know. But it definitely won't be quick. This team has been my whole life for five years now. I think it's time I stepped away, let Kaldur take the reins again.'

'The team will not be the same without you,' Kaldur offered.

'The team already isn't the same,' Dick said solemnly, and the slightest crack in his voice indicated to Y/N what he was referring to. 'You, me, Y/N, Wally. We founded this team. Without him...'

Dick didn't need to finish. Y/N had felt Wally's absence since the moment he fazed out of existence. He saved the world, but he'd been too slow to combat the chrysalis' energy. Not even the Flash or Impulse could save him. It made Y/N so mad, because Wally must've known he wouldn't come out of it alive. He knew he was too slow, having been out of the game for so long.

And yet he did it anyway, because that was who Wally West - Kid Flash - was.

'I understand,' Kaldur said, placing a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder.

'Thanks,' Dick said, then looked to the boom tubes of the Watchtower. 'I should probably go.'

'What? Now?' Y/N asked. 'At least see the day through, Dick.'

'There's nothing else for me to see through, Y/N,' he countered, already making his way to the boom tubes to make his exit. 'Kaldur is back, and so is the Justice League. I am no longer needed.'

Kaldur didn't follow Y/N as she chased after Dick. 'At least let the team know personally you'll be leaving. Don't you think they deserve that much from you after all we've done?'

'All I did was sign Wally's death sentence,' Dick answered harshly, not even bothering to turn around and face her. 'Yeah, the team really deserves that from their substitute leader.'

The two of them stopped before the boom tubes, facing each other one last time. Y/N grabbed Dick's wrist before he could dial in his code to exit the Watchtower.

'Dick, please,' Y/N pleaded, voice tight with desperation. 'I know you're hurting right now. We all are feeling Wally's death. But the team needs you right now. I need you...'

It was a last ditch attempt at convincing him that he meant more to her than just a friend. That he was her glue, that he was important to her and the team. That, even if he was nothing else, he was her best friend, and she was his.

Always have been... Always will be.

Don't go, she wanted to say, but the words never came out. It's like Dick had always been a part of her life; she now couldn't imagine her life without his witty remarks, without his odd use of words like "aster" and "traught", without his charming smile and kind eyes. She couldn't imagine life without him. Please, don't go.

Dick's sad expression told her he'd made his mind up before he even spoke the words.

'I'm sorry, Y/N,' he said softly, pulling her into a gentle embrace where he pressed a feather-light kiss to her forehead. 'But I can't deal with this right now.'

As if in a dream, Dick stepped out of the embrace and dialled in his code for the boom tube.

'B:01 - NIghtwing,' the computer announced as the boom tube activated.

Dick was a step away from leaving Y/N behind when she called out, 'Don't be a stranger!'

She knew he had already made his mind up. But that didn't mean the two of them couldn't still be what they had always been. Best friends.

To her joy, Dick stopped and turned back around, a melancholic smile on his face as he held up his pinky finger. 'Always have been...'

Y/N reciprocated his smile as she too held up her pinky finger, imagining hooking it with his. '...Always will be,' she replied softly.

And then he was gone, and Y/N was left standing alone in the Watchtower.

She didn't realise she was crying until Dick was gone, until her senses had returned fully and felt the sensation of tears rolling down her face. That's when she acknowledged she was truly, utterly, hopelessly sad.

Because for the first time in seven years, Dick was no longer by her side. She didn't have Dick to fall back on when things got tough; she didn't have Dick to talk to about her issues with the new recruits; she didn't have Dick to laugh with after a night out at the arcade where he had failed epically at every game; she didn't have Dick reassuring her that everything would be okay, even when the world was telling them otherwise.

Dick was gone, and that was something Y/N had never expected to deal with.

'Wonderess.'

Y/N wiped her tears away before she turned to see who had called her. It was Kaldur, and based on his sympathetic expression, she knew he had heard everything.

'Batman and the rest of the Justice League wants to speak with us all,' he said.

'Right,' Y/N said, composing herself before walking over to join her friend.

Dick was gone, but she was still an integral part of Young Justice, and they needed her more now than ever. Whatever was to come their way now, they had to be strong, a united front.

Even if her heart yearned for someone who had completely abandoned her.

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