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uglypastels · 4 months ago

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Halo of the Highest Grade / Logan Howlett x Reader

People tried to warn you about him, but you loved the risk and danger of it all. They prayed for you, but God already knew exactly the type of men you’ve had your spare share of fun with. And the Wolverine was exactly what you had been looking for all this time.

word count: 5.5.k

warnings: SMUT. 18+ Only. MDNI. afab!reader. p in v. no protection [wrap it before you tap it, folks]. cunnilingus. sadomasochistic tendencies: spanking. choking. biting. scratching. hair pulling. face slapping. mutual degradation. makeshift restrain. violence: cage fighting. blood. alcohol. smoking. cursing. not proofread.

gif from banner sourced online but couldn't find the op, all credits to them.

Shoutout to @deceptive-daydreams for helping me come up with all of this.

Masterlist - Requests are Open

They shake their heads

Saying, "God help her" when I

Tell 'em he's my man.

But your good Lord doesn't need to

Lift a finger, I can fix him

No, really, I can.

The shouts and vulgarities of the drunken crowd could be heard from outside the building. Inside, smoke and alcohol overwhelmed the senses whilst the lights shined through the slits in the high ceiling, practically guiding you towards the silver-lit halo that was the cage at the centre of the room. As if in a trance, each element was calling for you to move closer, so closer you came.

The bell indicating the end of the fight rang but was barely heard through the commotion of the spectators. Two men dragged the barely conscious body of the defeated, his red shirt camouflaging his spilt blood.

‘Hey pretty—’

‘Fuck off.’ You hissed at the pitiful man who had appeared by your side, not even sparing him a glance when you walked off, leaving him behind, stunned and confused. Maybe he tried to call after you or spit some expletives your way, but you were too focused on what was happening inside the cage to notice.

‘Gentlemen.’ The host called for the next challenger. ‘In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?’ With an antagonising finger, he pointed to the individual you had already been unable to look away from. His back glistened with sweat from the hot lights above his head. Each calm breath accentuated his shoulder blades. He barely reacted to the scream from the crowd as yet another loser came forward. While the other man approached the stage, you watched the champion take a long drag from his cigar, the smoke billowing around him in long ribbons.

‘Our Savior!’ the host exclaimed, and he exchanged some words of grace with the new fighter. Meanwhile, you kept a watchful eye on the other as he drained his glass of his last drops of golden spirit. With each second until the starting bell ticking by, you found yourself wishing him to turn around and face his opponent. But the bell came and went, and he didn’t move.

The “savior” lunged forward with a kick, pushing your object of interest into the metal wiring. It clattered at impact, and so his grunt was barely audible. Bend over, a dog tag hanging from his neck; he didn’t even attempt to block the punches thrown his way. Unable to look away from fascination, you winced at each hit. In everyone else’s eyes, it was a lost fight. One too many, he should have quit while he was ahead. Surely, he couldn’t take it anymore. But something in you saw the moments ahead. How he got up, fists and teeth clenched.

It was over before you could even blink.

Three punches were all it took. All punctuated with a dull metal sound no one could place but claimed to be the barriers of the fighting stage as the “savior” unconsciously fell to the floor.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight’s winner and still king of the Cage–’ the crowd booed to the harmony of the bell calling the Knock Out, and you quickly sought your escape from the eye of the storm before it formed. From the sound of it, things were gonna get ugly very quickly, and that ain’t the show you had come for.

‘The Wolverine!’ The announcer finished, and you made sure to remember that little nickname as you walked off.

With the majority of the crowd leaving, their losses very much at the forefront of their minds, you settled down at the bar.

‘Give me two of whatever he was having back there.’ You told the barman, cocking your head back to the Cage, and turned on the stool to face the room, a plan already forming in your head. You heard behind you how the man poured the drinks and placed one next to the other at your side.

‘You don’t wanna do this.’ The man chuckled through his warning, fully aware of your intentions. So, subtlety had never exactly been your strong suit, but in this case, you felt it would probably be a great advantage.

‘Now, what makes you say that?’ You reached for the nearest glass and took a gentle sip. The alcohol practically seared your throat as it went down. ‘He’s just like any other man, no?’

‘Lady, that ain’t no man.’, the older man said in a hushed tone, scared as he would be heard by the wrong people, despite of the chaos around you. ‘That’s a monster.’

Those words only sparked more interest inside you. A flash of ruffled dark hair caught your attention between the crowd, and like a shock had gone through your spine, you sat up straight.

Realising he was fighting a lost beetle, the barman simply sighed. ‘May God help you.’

Oh, God knew exactly the type of men you’ve had your spare share of fun with before. Leading the kind of life you had it was the only way to still make things a little bit interesting. And he, the Wolverine, was precisely what you were looking for.

His steps were heavy on the floorboards. The crowd, while still angry, parted like the Red Sea at his proximity, looking away as if scared to be petrified if they got caught catching a glimpse of him. But you didn’t even try and hide your stare as he walked up to the bar. A fact that did not go unnoticed. And neither did the manner in which his eyes glazed over your body, moving up and down across your frame, hovering in particular over a few places.

Although plenty of seats were vacant, he sat down at your immediate right. His mouth had already slipped open with the request for a drink, but you were quicker with your generous gesture.

He looked at it with a mix of surprise and amusement, but didn’t say a word. The liquor disappeared with one heavy swig, and the glass clashed with the counter. Without needing to hear anything, the helpful bartender brought out the bottle and poured him another.

‘Can I help you?’ The Wolverine muttered, looking at you from the corner of his eye when you had not stopped looking him over since he had sat down.

Isn’t he a charmer, you thought, but you also could not deny that his attitude and harsh tone were doing things to you.

‘Just wanted to congratulate you on the fight.’ As subtle as anything else you had done that night, you came closer, leaning towards him. You caught the glance he gave you as you moved, specifically how his eyes once more lingered on your breast. God, how you loved the ones that just didn’t give a shit. Those who were just as blunt as you were in these matters. It made things so much easier.

‘It wasn’t much of a fight.’ He replied, unphased by anything that happened that night.

‘I suppose you’re right.’ You shrugged, twirling the drink in your hand, ‘though I did think you were kind of soft on that last guy. Why let him get you like that?’ Your mind flashed to the fight, to the grunts he had made as his opponent’s fist met his stomach. ‘Surely, you could have knocked him out cold as soon as he stepped into the ring.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ With those words, he finally turned to you, and for the first time that night, your eyes met, and that’s when you saw it. That glint in his eye that told you everything you needed to know about him. How he didn’t get in that ring because he needed to. Maybe the money was a bonus, but that is all it was. He got in there because he wanted to. He let those other guys get in a punch or two before knocking the shit and wind out of them.

He enjoyed it.

The next remarkable thing about his face, aside from the apparent perfect angles of his features, was how truly perfect it was. For someone so eager to brawl, there were no indications of his hobby. No bruises, scars, and even long-term, his nose looked perfectly straight, as did his jaw, never broken or battered.

He just kept getting more fascinating by the second.

‘So you’re one of those thrill junkies, huh?’ you asked ordinarily, certainly not as if you had just lost yourself while looking at his face.

‘Sure, if you wanna call it that.’ He scoffed. He was holding back; that much was clear. The constant glances he threw your way were more than enough of a tell. He took another sip of his drink. Fuck it, now was a better chance than never. You let your leg slowly climb up and down his calf, gently pressing into him. Something in his posture stiffened, his jaw tensed up at your touch, and you revelled in it.

‘I can imagine it’s quite a rush, getting out there, getting the adrenaline pumping all through you.’ Your voice danced around him, only clear mischief at its core. ‘Makes you wonder…’ You leaned in so close you could nearly whisper the word directly in his ear. ‘If there is anything else that would have that effect on a man.’

‘Don’t start playing games you can’t finish, bub,’ he pushed out.

‘Oh, I’m planning on finishing.’ You smiled sweetly. ‘Don’t you worry ‘bout me, big boy.’

‘Is that right?’ He leaned in to fill the gap you could not match from your position. You had caught his full attention, his empty glass forgotten on the countertop bar.

Though he faught with a bare chest, he had layered up since and now wore a wifebeater tanktop, covered mainly by a blue button-up and a dark brown leather jacket. As he looked at you, he saw a little black dress that fits you like a glove and just called for attention, and that matched with some knee-high boots and your hair all done up just like the boys like it. You had the intention of getting out of this shithole with someone, and you had set your target. Now, you were so close to catching him, too.

‘Mmm,’ you took the final sip of your drink. ‘So what’you say we get out of here?’

He chuckled at your suggestion, turning back to look at his hands. You noticed how even his knuckles did not have a shadow of a blush on them. ‘You sure you wanna do this, honey?’

‘I know what I’m doing, honey.’ You got up from your stool, placing your hand on his thigh. He immediately tensed up, but only momentarily, as he relaxed once your slowed down the graze of your nails against the inner seam of his jeans. ‘C’mon, let’s have some fun.’

Your hand moved across him to reach for his, and the simple touch was enough for you to know you had won. At least this round. As soon as your fingers touched, his entire body gave in. Not that he would have admitted it, nor was it that obvious at first glance. You, however, picked up on those things. How he leaned into your touch and practically let you walk him out of the bar. But you didn’t have to do or say anything for him to place his other hand over your hip, let it fall comfortably over your ass.

As soon as your body was greeted with the cool winter air, you spun around, pressing yourself against him until his back hit the brick wall. From then on, everything turned to instincts. Like the bartender knew to refill his glass without a word or glance, this man knew how to kiss you. His hands found their positions on you, keeping you steady as his lips explored yours. You could feel the scruff of his beard, the taste of it all: the alcohol, the cigar. None of it should have had any appeal to you, but mixed with his touch, it simply made you melt away. The kiss kept going until your lungs ran out of breath, and even then, you leeched onto him until you couldn’t any longer, not-so-gently pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you pulled apart.

‘Got a name, gorgeous?’ He asked, almost innocently, lip pink and plump, though mostly exhilarated through your actions, and so you told him, to which he replied: ‘Logan.’ He kissed you once more, deeper, harsher, before continuing his introduction. ‘Just so you know, I’m not one to hold back.’

‘What, like you did with that guy back there?’ You teased, letting your fingers brush through his hair.

‘That was just a warm-up.’ Was it meant as a threat? A warning? Whatever it was, it made your knees weak. ‘So don’t get scared if I get a bit wild.’

‘Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.’ You moved your hand down, brushing over the side of his face, down his collarbone to trace the silver chain that peaked from underneath his shirt.

‘Just be careful what you wish for.’ He nearly growled before pressing his lips back onto yours.

⦻

You had rented a motel room nearly across the street from The Cage bar and though fairly short, your journey back had turned into one big blur. All you remembered was Logan nearly throwing you into his car, a somewhat sluggish and overrun pick-up with an even older caravan attachment, and pulling you out with as much force. He had practically carried you up to your room, and if it wasn’t for the sake of the other motel visitants, you had a feeling he would have taken you right there and then, up against the green door with a steel 28 hammered into it.

But ever the gentleman, he pulled himself back, only slightly hurdling your attempts at unlocking the door as he let his hands roam all over your body. You threw your head back into the crook of his neck, your hand returning to its place in his messy hair. At the feeling of his lips on you, peppered kisses on the side of your neck, you couldn’t help but tug at his roots. Unintentional, but in hindsight, a revolutionary advance as Logan’s moan heated up your skin, and the thrust of his hips could only be described as untamed.

There really was a monster inside of him. And for one, you couldn’t wait until it got out.

The key finally clicked in its lock, and Logan was the one to push the door open. You spun on the tips of your toes to face him, unable to hide the playful grin on your face. He leaned in for a kiss, but you quickly avoided it with a step back. He stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind him. Just like that, the room fell into darkness, with the exception of the neon sign peaking through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings in glowing streaks of blue.

With a gentleness you had not shown before, you reached for a kiss. A feathery touch that left Logan needing more, the yearning visible in how his body followed you once you let go. And you let him. In fact, as you made your way to the bed, you hooked one finger through one of his belt loops, pulling him along with you. You took small steps backwards until your shins hit the edge of the bed and sat down with a squeak of the mattress springs. Standing in front of you, Logan towered over you.

A perfectly placed streak of light hit him, showing you just how dark his eyes had turned with need. How his chest was rising heavily as he shook his jacket off, throwing it aside. You watched it pile under the button-up he threw along with it, followed by your coat. Once you looked back at him, the sight of his bare arms had your mind wandering off into the most dark and corrupt places. No thoughts, just pure need pushed your legs open, so far the most inviting of places to Logan.

He wasted no time falling to his knees. You pulled him by the hair for another kiss. Everything got messier by the moment, hungrier, filthier. His hands settled on your thighs, spreading your legs further, then pulling one of them up over his shoulder, giving him space to do whatever he wanted with you. Admittedly, you could have kept kissing him forever, but when his lips attached themselves to your inner thigh, you let yourself fall back on the bed in bliss.

Logan moved closer with each peck. Closer and closer until he reached your panties—the arousal evident from the moment you had revealed yourself to him. You didn’t think the two of you could get any closer until, with a harsh tug, he pulled you up against his face, the bridge of his nose tracing over the soaked material. A shaky moan escaped past your lips, and the hold you kept on his hair tightened. Putting the underwear on started to feel like your biggest regret that day as Logan got comfortable placing sloppy kisses over them, sending shock after shock of elation through your core.

Your back arched at the sensation of his cold hand on your hot skin, climbing up to the spot where your bodies connected. Still, through that damned lace, he pushed a finger over your slit. The pleasure slowly began to form into agony as you couldn’t take it much longer. But perhaps neither could he, as not long after he had started those teasing strokes, he grabbed at your panties and, with a pull, ripped them to shreds. The sound of the material ripping was harsh and startling but not half as much as the feeling of his hot breath against your pussy, or his tongue finally pressing against it.

‘Fuck,’ you cursed, to which he responded with a muffled moan, of which the vibrations only added to your pleasure. Logan was undeniably in his element at your feet. The intensity of his movements was proof enough that he enjoyed every single moment of it. The taste of your juices was like ambrosia, and he couldn’t get enough.

Your hips bucked up in a moment of his more expressive movements. The broken record in your mouth was stuck on a mix of profanities and his name. You couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of his fingers on you, how you wished he would have done more than just tease you, but it wasn’t needed for you to feel the tight twist in your stomach. Your whole body began to tense, including your thighs. It took the sound of Logan’s deep groans for you to realise that, in your desperate state, you had started to squeeze your thighs together, practically locking his head in between.

But, unlike your first thought that had made you want to pull away, his groans had not been worrisome. It was full-on pleasure that he was displaying. To set aside any of your doubt in the case, he held on to your leg, keeping it exactly where it was, and when he glanced up, your eyes met that same exact spark you had seen in the bar. That same hunger and insanity of a man in despair.

Immediately, an idea bubbled in your mind. How you had still been able to form any coherent thought was a mystery, and even more, how you had managed to execute it. It was most likely not possible without his help, as you were sure if he was steadfast in his current position, there would be no way of you getting him to move a slight inch, but with a swift manoeuvre, you pulled yourself off the bed, and flipped yourself, as well as Logan, for you to position yourself on top of his lips.

‘You readin’ my mind now, princess?’ the nickname alone brought back the tightness in your stomach, accentuated by the nick of his teeth against your inner thigh after his remark. There was a moment of slightly awkward shuffling as he pushed himself and you up onto the centre of the bed, but once set, there was no going back.

Instincts took over once more as his tongue moved over your folds. For that extra friction, you began to move in tandem over his features, grinding into him in a heat of need. Now, you had been with a number of guys, each freakier than the other, but none of them had ever let you ride their face like a fuck pillow. He would have been obsolete if not for the fact that he was getting off on sucking your clit.

‘So fucking desperate,’ you moaned between thrusts, and since his mouth was a bit preoccupied, Logan’s response came in the form of his hand firmly smacking across your ass. The lingering sting burnt through the rest of you just long enough for you to start missing it and that’s when he struck the sensitive skin again. Your moans turned higher in pitch with each time he did, and the actions of his tongue got more ferocious. Without saying a word, the message was clear: who’s the desperate one now?

And the answer was very simple. You both were. That’s the only reason you had walked into that room together to begin with. Both of you had urges that had gone unkept for too long. Urges where just sex wasn’t enough. There was always something missing. Until now.

All this time he had made sure you stayed right on top of him. Long and tight enough to make you wonder if he had actually had a death wish and was planning to go out in style. But evertime you looked at him, he seemed to almost be at peace, completely focused in the delicious task at hand. When he did finally pull you up from his lips, it was only to introduce the last puzzle piece into the game.

The curses rolled of your tongue as he pushed his fingers into you. Long and thick, already stretching you out. He left kisses up on your clit, sloppy and wet just to keep toying with the nerves. You could feel the callouses on his thumb as he traced and pressed over it.

His other hand was again on your ass, this time digging into the soft flesh to keep you at bay. You were stuck in the rapturous stance, ready to burst at any time.

‘C’mon, baby, fucking cum on my tongue,’ he growled before placing himself right back where his demand would be met and this time, as the tightness pulled at your body, you couldn’t control it. Not a minute later, were you gasping out his name as you let the pleasure take over all of you.

You rode your high out to the final moment where he kissed your thigh again, eyes heavy and faint smile adorned his lips. While both your breaths were evening out, you slipped down over his body to see the full picture. Even in the barely-lit room, you could see how his face was glistening with your juices, and it just kept going down his neck, drenching the top of his tanktop. It was a sight for sore eyes—and legs. What you would do to see it over and over again.

With a soft laugh that only spelled out “trouble”, you started to softly trace the lines of his beard. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, awaiting an explanation to your actions.

‘Told you I could handle it,’ you smiled, smacking his cheek. Not viciously or even that hard, but firmly enough to wake him up from his pussy-drunk state.

And wake him up, you did.

‘They call it foreplay for a reason, sugar.’ He smirked and suddenly you grew very aware of his hold on you. The next second, you felt yourself move through the air as he took his turn in flipping you over. You nearly got the wind blown out of your lungs as your back hit the mattress for the second time that night, this time with his weight on top of you.

There was the sound of a belt unbuckling. Your eyes automatically searched for the source, ready to see what he had been packing below, but Logan was quicker, cupping your face in his hand, squeezing your cheeks so you’d have no choice to look up at him.

‘Eyes on me.’ His voice was as soft as limestone, fine and effervescent in the most rigid fashion. Then his hand moved down, pushing you by the throat into the soft pillow underneath. He leaned forward, placing his mouth over your ear to whisper: ‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’

You nodded as best as you could with the stiff hold he had on you.

‘Use your words,’ he growled and squeezed.

‘Yes,’ you choked out weakly, exactly like he had wanted you to.

The release of his hand reopened the next floodgates in your body. You could still taste the result of the last time on his lips and tongue when he kissed you. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. And the most painful part of it all was that you knew just how close you were to getting what you wanted. You could feel the loose belt buckle against your thigh.

‘Logan,’ you gasped as an ending to the kiss. ‘Please.’

‘What did I just tell you, hmm?’ And yet, he still pulled at your dress to push it up over your hips. ‘Use your fucking words.’

‘Fuck me.’ You tried to reach for the top of his jeans, but there was no moving from the position he had you in. ‘Need you inside me.’

‘But yeah, I’m the desperate one,’ he mocked before sitting up. You watched with anticipation at how he unzipped his trousers, and pulled his dick out from his boxers. There was no surprise that he was completely hard by now, and even the size, considering the rest of him, was not a revelation. This had been exactly what you had been counting on when you saw him in that cage. Seeing him stroke himself in front of you was nothing but validation.

‘Just look at you,’ he said as he kept his hand on his cock, ‘Opened your legs up for me the moment you saw me.’ His other hand reached for the top of your dress, stretching it down to reveal your breast. ‘Bet you would have let me fuck you in that cage, huh?’

‘Can’t deny, the thought had crossed my mind.’ You admitted, letting yourself think back to how attractive he looked back in there. Drenched in sweat under those cold lights. That animalistic glint in his eyes. Not much different from now, truth be told.

That had been all Logan needed to hear. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath in expectation until the feeling of him entering you finally took over. Your lips formed a perfectly blissful O as he stretched you out.

‘That’s right,’ he beamed, ‘gonna fill you up. Nice and tight.’ And he didn’t waste any time, pulling back right after he had reached your depths. In seconds, he had a pace going that left you shaking underneath him, the grunts that accompanied his thrusts recoiling through your nerves. You hands clutched around for a something to grab onto as you started to feel like you were going to sink into the bed from the power at which he fucked you—for that’s what it was, nothing but a brutal and rough fuck.

You searched the sheets for grip, but Logan had other ideas. Taking you by the wrists, he pulled your arms up over your head, holding them against the paneling of the bed. The dull banging on the wall could have very well been your own headboard or the angry fists of your neighbours from the other side, but either way, you were too preoccupied to pay them any mind.

This had been what you were waiting for. What he had promised. The untamed animal that worked off of nothing but impulses. Anything to suffice that pure need for pleasure.

His grip on your wrists was tight, and to say it didn’t turn you on even more than anything else he had done before would be a blatant lie, but your urge to touch him was stronger. You tried to wiggle your hands free, but there was no way of doing so. Not with a man like Logan in control, that much he had made clear.

‘This not good for ya?’ he huffed out, but before you could respond, he pulled you up by your arms until you straddled his thighs, chest to chest, an angle which pulled him in even deeper.

‘Oh my god,’ your eyes rolled back at the sensation.

‘No god will help you now,’ he said against your lips before bringing you in for another kiss. You wrapped yourself around him, finding comfort in the softness of his hair once more while he began to guide your hips into a steady motion to fit the pace at which he moved. Testing the waters again, you pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck. The smile on his face as his head rolled back was unmistakable even in the dark of the room.

You pulled harder and there it was. That pure moan you had been waiting for and once you got a taste of it, you couldn’t get enough.

And neither could he.

With the goal set, you dragged your nails over his shoulders as you let your hips roll over his.

‘Fuck yeah,’ he moaned in ecstasy, ‘use me, baby.’ The words came out airy and made your head spin at their contrast. How could he be acting like your little plaything while still taking full control of you? It made you feel grand and tiny in his arms at the same time, but mostly, it was so incredibly hot.

He hissed at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin. ‘Don’t you dare fucking stop.’ He stressed each word with a thrust, dotting it with a sharp kiss. And so, you did as you told, pushing yourself onto him in all ways you could. You didn’t know if you had it in you to draw blood, but it sure felt close to it. You were waiting for Logan to scream out, pull you off of him, but it only seemed to rile him up more.

That’s a monster. That’s what the man in the bar had called him. Monster. And there was a sense of truth to it. There was a beast hiding inside him, ready to attack. Maybe he thought he had found a victim when he saw you, but as you clenched around his length, you were quite the opposite.

You were no victim. No damsel in distress. No princess.

You were a hunter, and you had just caught your grand prize.

‘I’m gonna—’ you were unable to finish the sentence before the rapture. You screamed his name in elation as the second flush satisfaction washed over you that night but it wasn’t enough for Logan. He kept on rutting into you, his grunts filled the room, until you felt it all spill out of you.

Once he had caught his breathing under control, he sighed out a contented “fuck,” which you wholeheartedly agreed with as you pulled yourself off him. The emptiness you immediately began to feel was disquieting, and you could feel that need for him bubbling up in your stomach again. The only thing that slightly helped was the sight of him when you returned from the bathroom, jeans on the floor next to the pile of clothes you had formed through the night.

You took all of him in with wonder as you slipped your dress off your body.

They shook their heads

Saying, "God help her" when I

Told 'em he's my man.

But your good Lord didn't need to

Lift a finger, I can fix him

No, really, I can.

Woah- Maybe I can't.

You awoke to the sunbeams bursting through the curtains. Sore all over, you tried to stretch across the bed, mindful of the presence next to you.

Except, when you stretched out your hand, you were only met with the soft material of the bedsheets. The mattress had gone cold and reformed back to its natural state, having forgotten any weight that might have laid there the night before. If you had looked outside, you would have seen an empty parking spot beside yours. The only sign of there ever having been someone in that bed with you was the ghostly presence of the smell of cigars and aftershave.

You smiled to yourself, nails digging into the sheets as you let your mind wander back to the realm of dreams.

the end.

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lunajay33 · 10 months ago

Text

New World🍂Part.8

Summary: Reader is sick but the group have been on the road thankfully the prison is found but will that help?

Part.7

•Masterlist•

Rick and Daryl were out scouting the area while Maggie and Glenn were watching over you, the deer had helped a bit but it still wasn’t enough food to keep you feeling well, atleast not well enough to get up and help

“Hey love” Maggie said sitting next to you handing you a bottle of water

“Hi Mags”

“Feeling any better?”

“Ya I think I’ll be fine, just hope we find somewhere”

“We will, Daryl’s trying really hard you know he’s really worried about you”

“I hate making him feel like that, I just want a home with him, this isn’t how I imagined how our relationship would be” you said upset at the thought

“What did you imagine?” She asked rubbing your back

“Ever since we were teens I imagined us getting together, having a little cabin like house, he’d come home from the garage he worked at, all happy to be home and hold me until we made supper together, I still love him obviously I just wanted us to be happier” you admitted not knowing Daryl and Rick had just entered the run down house, back from the scouting hearing everything you just said

You looked up seeing Daryl approaching you, he knelt down pulling you into his chest

“Hey baby, anything good?” You asked

“Ya” he said still holding you

“We found a prison, think we can work together and get all the walkers out, we can make it secure” Rick said

It seemed tough but it was the only thing we had just hoping it worked Rick made a plan and we all went to the prison, it wasn’t that far actually, you went up one of the guard towers with Daryl once everyone was in their spots everyone started shooting, you tried your best, you took down a few but the others were in better stamina and got the rest of them as Rick locked the gates This outer field was secure for now, you all climbed down the towers and met in the middle setting up camp for the night

“Tomorrow we’ll push in more, for now we rest and eat” Rick said as everyone laid out their blankets

You and Daryl sat on you blanket, you laid between his legs against his chest with his arms tight around you, he took another blanket and threw it over you both, ever since you got sick from the low iron you got really cold easily and his warmth always helped

“You’re so warm, I love cuddling you” you said resting your head on his chest

“Ya sure yer warm enough?” He asked holding you closer running his hand through your hair

“Ya I’m good……hey you remember that time in middle school wear that boy was picking on me, pulling my hair and everything calling me ugly and you came and beat him up for me?” you asked randomly remembering this fond memory

“Oh ya, that lil ass deserved it cause yer far from ugly peach, everyone knew that” he whispered making you blush

“Stop no they didn’t, if I recall there were some girls that were fond of you through out the years” you said playing with his shirt

“Nah not me” he grunted

“Come on D you were so handsome, your little country accent that showed through when you were mad, the sleeveless shirts, wish they could see you now, so strong and even more handsome, and oh so sexy” you said making him laugh hiding his face in your hair

“I love ya peach”

“I love you too D” You all sat around the fire for the rest of the evening loving the warmth, still cuddling Daryl until Carl came over sitting infront of you munching on his food looking at you like a little puppy, you sat up as Daryl wrapped his arms around your hips, still sitting between his legs

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?” You asked not having had many conversations with him but he was a sweet kid

“Are you feeling better?” He asked holding his plate out for me

“Yes I’m getting a bit better and you keep your food sweetie, gotta be fed to grow and be a strong man” you said making him smile

“I was worried about you, mom says you probably won’t make it” he said and your heart dropped then feeling Daryl’s hands tighten around you

“She said that?” Daryl asked and you could hear the anger

“Ya, she said y/n was holding us back and the walkers would get her but I didn’t think so, you’re a survivor y/n plus I don’t wanna lose anyone else” he said getting a bit sad

“Oh sweetie you’re not gonna lose me I’m gonna be alright, now keep your head up” you said smiling at him, he gave you a hug and went back to Lori as you laid back against Daryl thinking about what Carl said

‘Was I really holding the group back, I was sick and I was trying my best’ you thought to yourself

“She ain’t right ya know, we all understand, never leave ya behind” Daryl said knowing you were worrying about it

“I’m really trying, I’m sorry” you said hating to feel like a burden

“Ain’t gotta be sorry, ya listen to me, I won’t let anyone hurt ya, I won’t leave ya, none of us will, we adore ya peach, now stop worryin that lil head and get ta sleep” he said kissing your lips gently even infront of people which was rare, and soon you were off to sleep

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to dewy grass and an arm draped over your waist still being curled up in Daryl, the sun was still low in the sky, not yet risen the little birds chirping, everything was peaceful for a moment until the walkers groaning caught your attention ruining everything

You sighed hating that sound, you just wanted them gone you wanted your old world back with Daryl, you wanted suppers together again and occasional sleepovers where you’d get to wear his big comfy shirts or when he’d stay at your place you’d give him facials even though he groan about it, you wanted your life back, but you couldn’t tell Daryl he’s been working so hard and no matter what he said you still felt like a burden to him

Daryl started moving behind you waking up

“Morning Peach”

“Morning” I said putting my hand back to rub his check

“Ya ready for today?!” He asked placing his hand on your lower belly for some reason he’s started to do that but you didn’t mind

“Yes, I’m hoping this place can be something, something for us to build”

“It will, we can make it a home, I’ll do that fer ya”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and some others waited outside the gate as the strongest ones got into the prison and after some time they came back out letting us in, saying it was secure

You were shocked by how big the block was, it was dirty but with help you could all clean it up and make it nice, as nice as you could Everyone claimed a cell but Daryl didn’t want a cell, feeling like a tomb so he decided to take the perch, but you could turn it around so you pull two mattresses from cells placed them on the perch and threw your blankets over them, you laid down as Daryl came back laying back next to you

“Made yerself at home quick” he said laughing

“I’m just happy we found this place”

“Me too baby, but me and the other are gonna find the kitchen so I’ll be back soon” he said kissing my forehead before he was off

Soon Carl was walking up the stairs and sitting in the mattress by me

“I’m bored” he huffed

“Well what can I do?”

“Wanna play truth or dare?” He asked excited

“Sure sweetie”

“Okay truth or dare?”

“Hmmmmm…I’ll say truth”

“Have you always loved Daryl?”

“Well when we met as kids I liked him as a friend but when we got to be teenagers I started to see how much I do love him, only at the farm did we finally share our feelings with each other” you said smiling remembering the little crush you had as a kid

“Really, so like you’re soulmates?”

“I think so, I’d do anything for him”

“I don’t think my parents are soulmates”

“Why do you say that?”

“They don’t talk much and when they do they fight” he said sighing

“Sweetie not everyone is soulmates but that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other in a different way and sometimes it’s better to let eachother go than be sad, but whatever happens nothing is your fault” you said see that made him a bit happier having worked as a teacher you had some kids over the years have problems with parents that you tried to help cheer up the kids

The game kept going back and forth until he got bored again and went to find someone else so you decided to nap, maybe one day you could have a kid of your own and show them true soulmates

—///—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Taglist: @deansapplepie @i-wear-wet-socks313 @ghostboneswrites @writer-ann-artist @thebadbatch2022

Part.9<-

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon series

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ashblooddragons · 20 days ago

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This Mysterious Love (Chapter 2/?)

(Sorry this chapter is a day late I hadn't realized yesterday was Monday until like 5pm lol)

Series Masterlist

Alicents pov

I try and almost my heart as I walk towards the King's chambers. Anything and everything that could go wrong rushes through my mind.

Is the dress too revealing? Father said to wear one of Mother’s, but I'm still not used to showing this much skin. What if the King shuns me, kicks me out, and makes it known I was in his chambers? Did I use too much lip stain or blush? Did I use too little lip stain and blush? Is my hair in an awkward style? What if the King wishes to force himself upon me?

The last thought has me gripping the book in my arms tighter hoping it will shield me from any ill intent from the King. I am so shaken with anxiety and fear I hadn’t realized someone was walking down the corridor as well until I bump into them dropping the very book I was using to hold myself together.

I quickly bend down to pick up the book, turning to apologize to the unnamed lord only to find Prince Daemon sipping from a chalice staring at me with blurry eyes and blown pupils. I bite my lip trying to find the words I was only moments from saying before, but something in his stare makes me wish to rub my thighs together. I can't help but look at his lips, they look so soft, and I know if he were to kiss me it would be wondrous if the words of the ladies he's taken to bed are to be respected.

Stop it Alicent, he had almost killed your brother and now you wish to kiss him? Pull yourself together! I scold myself with a shake of my head.

“Strange state of dress you are in, Little Hightower.” He says taking in the navy blue low-necked, tight-fitting dress I have donned.

I snap out of my daze trying to remember the response I had planned if anyone brought up my improper dress choice.

“With the late Queen's passing, I found the thought of my mother's clothes brought some comfort. Lots of…happy, and cruel memories have surfaced, ones I thought a mother's touch could soothe.”

There is honesty to my words, when the news of the Queen Aemma's death reached my ears the first thing I did when I was alone was bring out my mother's dresses and jewels. For all I wanted was to take in the scent of vanilla that has slowly faded through these couple of years she's been gone.

The Prince only hums as he touches my neck where the necklace he gave me rests upon my slim throat.

“I keep things if my Mother too, I have no memory of her ya know. But I knew, no I know I loved her.” He slurs a bit as he stares into my eyes.

Is he drunk? I think with a bit of shock, for it is well known the Prince adores his cup or two but to be drunk is something he only partakes in on very rare occasions. Though his Good sister, his Cousin, the Queen has passed. And if that is reason enough to find solace in cups I don't know what is.

“It seems there is no man nor woman who does not desire the comfort of a mother.” I say as I try to get my heart and breathing in check.

Stop making a fool of yourself Alicent! You are to see the King so you must be your most dignified! I scold myself again before clearing my throat.

“If you will excuse me, my Prince, I must be on my way.” I say side stepping him and walking all but three steps before he grips my arm stopping me in my tracks.

I turn scold him and tell him to let me go. But the demand is stuck in my throat when he rests his brow to mine breathing deeply as he nuzzles his nose to my hair.

I can't decide what to do so I stand there and let him do as he pleases. If he starts touching where he shouldn't I will fight. I tell myself knowing it isn't true if the slick between my thighs is anything to go by.

He opens his eyes and looks into mine and for a moment, I think he will put his lips, but just as quickly as the thought comes, he groans and pushes me away as if I had burned him.

Before I can even open my mouth to ask what had happened he is walking down the hall out of my few.

It takes me a moment to remember what it is I was doing. When I do I rush towards the King's chambers hoping he is still awake and not in bed finding solace in his dreams from these horrible days.

When I reach his chambers the Kingsguard opens the door announcing me without even being asked. It is this that makes me know he is in my Father's palm or more likely his pocket.

“Lady Alicent, what can I do for you?” The King asks, surprised by my visit. But it is not his question that stops me in my tracks, it is how his eyes move up and down my body, how he kicks his lips. It sends a chill down my spine, I don't feel safe. I wish to take anything and cover my body more, which is why I grip the book tighter to my chest hoping the King will not see the tremble in my legs, arms, or voice.

I push through and walk towards him and his sculpture of Old Valyria. “I thought I might come and look in on you, Your Grace. I brought a book.” I say gesturing to the book I still have clutched close to my chest as if it will shield me from the very world.

“That’s very kind, thank you.” He says as he continues to ogle me.

I try not and run out of the room from how he looks at me as if there is nothing more he would want than to rip my Mother’s dress off me and bend me over, whether I wanted it or not. For some reason, I knew he wouldn’t care how loud I screamed, how much I begged, that if he wanted me he would have me.

“It’s a favorite of mine. I do know how passionate you are for the histories.” I say instead hoping this short visit will be enough to please my Father for a while.

This seems to snap him out of his thoughts as he shacks his head and smiles before saying. “Yes, it is.”

I take a moment to get my bearings before walking forward and sitting in a chair in front of him, far enough that if he tried to grab me I can run, but close enough to not be perceived as rude.

“When my Mother died,” I feel tears rise to my eyes at just the memory. All I wanted was to wallow away in my chambers my only visiter maids and the darkness. But Rhaenyra forced me to leave it, not for my own good but because ‘she was bored and I've had enough time to mourn.’ I remember thinking she was the most spoiled thing in the world after that sentence only to add how pale I was and how bad I looked. Never out of concern for me, but for her image.

I decide to restart as I wipe my tears. “When my Mother died, people only ever spoke in riddles to me. All I wanted was for someone to say they were sorry for what happened to me.” I say looking into his eyes seeing he seemed to understand what I am saying, that he himself has experienced this. “I am sorry, Your Grace.” I say before setting the book on the table, bowing to him, and leaving his chambers.

On the way back to my own chambers I find all I want is to cry as my other strokes my hair and tell me I’m safe. But with that thought only a sob leaves my throat, for I will never have that feeling ever again.

Ottos pov

I’m reading the most preposterous proposal of trade from Lord Jason Lannister when a knock comes to my study door. Thinking it is Alicent I respond with a tired. “Come.” But instead greeted by my loyal guard and a young boy I have hired to keep track of the Prince Daemon.

I wave off the guard and tell the boy to come closer. When he does he starts telling me of the toast the Prince made, of how he celebrated the Queen’s death and the death of his nephew. I nod sending the boy on his way with the agreed upon three silver.

The urge to tell the King of this is large, but then there will be nothing to hold over the Prince, nothing to use to keep him in line as I wish him to be.

And with that thought, I know I will keep it to myself, that there will be a better time in the future to use this information. More specifically use it against a Prince.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @yn-jackson @dreamlandcreations @baybaybear1 @fictionlurker @nommingonfood @edenfanfictionsuggetions @zara-zara11 @marvel-is-my-obsession @ninihrtss @seaevans

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wisteriagoesvroom · 6 months ago

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HI LOVE!!!💖💖💖

pathetic + carcar <3

Oscar sits. The bed is firm beneath his palms. Carlos is on his knees.

The other man’s mouth is parted, gently pliant in a way he never is anywhere else. He's usually this way, crawling to Oscar in his need. Demanding with his touch, on edge after a race, after one of their racing incidents.

If Oscar were unkind, he might think Carlos, still bereft of a seat for '25, was starting to cause on track run-ins with him deliberately. For what reason, Oscar doesn't know, and Oscar doesn't wish to entertain that train of thought because it was a nonstop bullet to nowhere good.

Unfortunately though, he has always enjoyed driving on the limit.

"Is this how you like it? How you need me?” Carlos says, acrid with disgust. With Oscar, with this, with himself — who’s to say.

“I don’t need anything from you.” Oscar replies.

Carlos’s laugh is hollow. “That is a lie. I think you find a strange happiness in leaving me unsatisfied."

Oscar doesn't respond. Just peers at Carlos with his most neutral expression, mind turning. Piecing together the puppet that is Carlos. Heart too big. Talent overshadowed by others. The obvious and barely concealed inferiority issues that might as well leave the man bleeding openly on the side of the track.

Alpine 2022 means Oscar has had too close a brush to irrelevance, and he knows a little something about being unwanted. He has broken his ribs. Understands plenty about silent injury. How to push through pain. It's just the way it is, kid. Mark had said once. Luck of the draw. The words ring in his ears, in the silence.

Perhaps they have more in common than he wants to believe. Perhaps this is why he and Carlos compel each other.

"You are so quiet. I don't know who are you are fooling with your act." Carlos says, under his breath, perhaps more to himself than to anyone else. Trying to bait Oscar, twisting the nail with hope that it hurts.

Carlos clambers up from the floor, bringing himself eye to eye with oscar. "If they only knew what you are like in here, the way you beg me to let you come, the way you look when I–"

Oscar finds himself bored of this. The excessive verbiage, the posturing, when they could just call this what it is. A bad habit. A need.

Besides, Carlos’s arousal is evident the strain of his boxers, the deep maw of his eyes.

So Oscar peers steadily up at Carlos, and spits into his open mouth.

Carlos looks as if he's been slapped. There's a flash of danger in his expression.

Oscar counts upwards. The room is so silent that Oscar thinks there’s an element of truth to that saying about a pin being dropped. Oppenheimer could rise from the dead and remake his bomb, and neither man would probably move.

Then Carlos lunges at Oscar. Kisses him, shoves Oscar so hard back onto the bed that Oscar can barely breathe.

If it's destruction that Carlos wants, then Oscar can be charitable, just this once. He lets Carlos take what he needs, lets Carlos push and push with his tongue and his hands and his body. Lets Carlos take from him until Oscar's own mouth swells with the ache of it. And still, Oscar does not cede, and never does.

Carlos gasps when he breaks the kiss. It’s the surprising noise of concession, of defeat. But Oscar lets Carlos cage him in, hands at the side of his head, and he lies perfectly still. He doesn’t feel the need to posture all the time, to prove his power.

"Are you done?" Oscar says.

Carlos hovers, muscles tensed with anticipation, waiting for the gunshot. The next move from Oscar to push them over the edge, or end it all.

You're pathetic, Oscar thinks.

But watching Carlos spiral, watching him fall apart in the face of Oscar's glacial indifference - Oscar wonders if he is the pathetic one too.

As the person who keeps the door open for a kicked dog.

Who unfolds his hand, and lets him stay.

#carcar #carloscar #wiz.writing #have i written this exact flavour of carcar before? very possibly #but whatever #i'm running on vibes + procrastination + fumes #thanks giu for submitting this during my previous airport purgatory.... got the impulse to work on it randomly now...#<- now was a month ago 😭#the feminine impulse to just post whatever #it is. idk what this is. but it is. and sometimes. we just. go with that. i guess.#it feels like there is stuff that’s missing here but blablabla we ball #sorry giu this took forever #just. life.

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kiwiraccoon · 7 months ago

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Never Again

Gang member Mingi x reader

Word Count: 1335

Summary: you and Mingi fight, and when you run away an opposing gang member catches you in the alley way on your way out and tries to force drugs down your throat. Mingi, on his way to get you back, sees and loses his shit but calms only once you say his name.

Notes: MDNI, cursing, angst, fluff, drugs forced, attempted kidnapping, gang violence, gang related topics

“That’s it!” He yells throwing his phone down to the couch beside him trying to release some anger without breaking anything. A habit I helped him break.

“Oh that’s it? Alright fine.” In the heat of the moment I gather just my phone jacket and keys and start to walk out the door hoping he might say anything to stop me.

“Fine.” He says with the anger shaking his voice. If I were anyone else he would have said more and if this were a drug deal he would have either beat them to a pulp or used that brand new gun I got him and ended it before it got worse.

Instead of saying anything more I leave our apartment, his apartment and head straight for the elevator. In my fit of anger I can’t even comprehend the time. It’s dark out that’s all I know, and being in a relationship with a gang member I should know to never go out alone at night, but my clouded judgement does nothing but push me further out the glass doors.

The empty streets do nothing to clear my mind, and the damp air does little to help my breathing calm. “So fucking stupid!” I curse under my breath kicking a pebble with my heeled foot. “All of this over a damn drug deal that they don’t have enough information on! That’s it! God forbid I fucking care. My bad I didn’t know I shouldn’t fucking worry that the love of my life could die. Oops. Fucking ridiculous.”

My whispers to myself add to the silence of the night around me. That is until I get pulled into an alley way not far from the apartment, “what the fuck!?”

“Shut up!” A gruff voice says from behind me pulling me in close to their chest and holding me so tight my lungs struggle. He slams me against the brick wall and pins me against it. His face is covered by a mask but his eyes I can see. This black that makes my skin crawl.

“Who the fu-“

“Shut the fuck up!” He says again with so much anger that I think he’s the one who just had a break up argument. Instead of covering my mouth he grabs something from his pocket and through my hazy vision I can just make out that it’s small and held between his fingers. He raises it to my mouth and tries to shove it in but I do that best I can and bite his fingers hard.

He curses and drops the pill to look at his fingers to see blood. “You bitch.” I go to say something but in a second he is thrown off of me and air is brought back into my lungs. My vision is so blurry from tears and anxiety that I can’t see what is going on and I’m so afraid that my hearing has gone silent.

I slide down the wall and just let sob wreck through my body. I let out all my anger and fear and say the one name I wish could save me now “Mingi.” I continue sobbing into my hands whispering his name and saying my apologies for walking away.

Someone tries to pull my hands away and I freak out thinking the man won and came back to drug me again. “Baby I’m here. I’m here. It’s me baby. I’m here for you. Come here.” His strong arms pull me into him and instantly know who it is. He waists no time in picking me up and carrying me away to what I hope is back him.

He continues to whisper sweet nothings to me and hold me close occasionally rubbing my back while his other arm holds me up by my thigh. I cling on to him as if my life depends on it and refuse to open my eyes and face reality.

“We’re home baby.” He whispers and slightly let’s go to see if I will drop from his hold but I hold on tighter. “I’ve got you baby.” He holds on tight again and carries me to what I assume is our bedroom until I hear the sound of the shower. “Come on let’s get these off.”

I finally let him set me down on the counter but I keep my eyes closed shut, I don’t want to open them and find out all of this was just a drug induced dream. As soon as my clothes are off he picks me back up and I feel that he is still fully clothed. Under the water I realize this is reality and open my eyes to see the shower wall and let out a sigh of relief. “I got you baby. I won’t let you go.”

“Your clothes.” I say and notice my voice is weak from all the emotional distress.

“It’s okay. I’m going to set you down okay?”

“Okay.” He sets me down and turns me to face away from him. Mingi washes me hair with care and makes sure to massage my head just the way I like that calms me down. He takes some time to place kisses on my head and shoulders telling me he loves me and that he’s here.

“Mingi?”

“Yes baby?” He asks finishing washing out the conditioner from my hair.

“I’m so sorry.” I say and turn around the hug him tightly around his waist. He doesn’t hug back at first from the shock of my words.

“What?” He pulls me away to look in my eyes and push any stray hairs away from my face. “Baby you have nothing, absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

“But I-“

“No. I don’t care what you think in that beautiful head of yours, you did nothing to be sorry about. That motherfucker took advantage of you and tried to fucking drug you. And I was so worried about my pride and ego that I was pushing you away and it led to this. If anything I’m sorry, but he should be the most sorry. He should rot in hell. He would be there if you didn’t say my name. I was seeing red.” He pulls me back into him and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry baby. Let’s get you dried off and in bed, okay?”

I let my tears fall as I nod and let him pull me out of the shower to wrap a towel around me. He sets me down on the counter again and leaves for a few minutes to change his clothes and grab some for me. He comes back in a large black t-shirt and sweat pants and dresses me in my favorite hoodie of his along with underwear. He brushes my hair just the way I like and wipes my face clean with my products. After he’s down he moves us to the bed and cuddles me close.

“It’s not your fault.” I say into the darkness still clinging on to him and nuzzling into his chest.

“Yes it is. If I did-“

“No Mingi. It’s not anyone’s fault. Couples fight, we fought. But neither of us knew what would happen so it’s not our fault. Please don’t blame yourself. Please.” I beg and sit up to face him. In the darkness I can just make him out and can see that he is looking at my every move.

“Fine but never again. We won’t fight again, we won’t walk away again, and this won’t happen ever again. No one will ever touch my baby ever again. I will protect you with my life at all costs, okay?”

“Me too baby.” I say and stick out my pinky finger, “promise?”

“Pinky promise.” We lock fingers and then he pulls me into a kiss, on that has my using his chest to hold my self up and his hand in my damp hair holding me close.

“I love you Mingi.”

“I love you more than you will ever know.”

#Mingi #Ateez Mingi #Mingi ateez #Ateez #Mingi x reader #Gang member #Song mingi #Song mingi fic #Mingi fic #Mingi imagine #Ateez Song Mingi #ateez fanfic #ateez fic

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optimist-pine · 10 months ago

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Dermatillomania (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of the fall of the Greene Farm in a way your therapist would not approve of.

Warnings: Typical TWD content! Dermatillomania (BFRB's, self-inflicted injury), mentions of death, etc.

Word Count: 719

Era: Follows directly after the season 2 finale

A/n: Just a personal vent... Dunno if anyone else relates.

It hadn't been easy to stop necessarily, but anything other than going cold turkey hadn't really been an option. When you absentmindedly find yourself starting to pick, a quick reminder that it could get you killed is all it takes to shut it down. Most of the time anyways... Tonight though? Oh, tonight you've fallen into old habits so fast and hard that you're stuck there in that state, in the worst session you've had since it all began.

You're tucked away in your own little corner of the ruins and firelight, shadowed enough that no one's really paying attention to what you're up to. At some point, your arms have come out of the sleeves of your coat and it's shrugged loosely around you, leaving skin exposed to the chilly air. You don't notice.

It's all catching up now, all replaying in your mind like the final straw has been plucked. That horrible night at the quarry, the panic when what had been a safe place was so quickly turned into a graveyard. Leaving Jim to die. The terror at the CDC of almost being murdered as a mercy. Leaving Jacqui to die. Sophia... Dale... The farm could've been a safe place, you'd truly believed it until they were somehow just - everywhere. Patricia, Jimmy, Shane... Leaving Andrea to die...

You can feel how it's all too much for your mind to handle, how it's trying to relieve the pressure in this way. It's no good, but your body doesn't know better and you don't know how to make it stop. You can't make any of it stop. Your fingernails desperately search raw skin for any bump, or blemish, or imperfection. They're everywhere. Maybe you'd feel ashamed if bigger and uglier emotions weren't cramming it out of the way.

The cold air cools drops of hot blood on your skin, you can feel it, and yet you feel separate from it simultaneously. Like the same way you breathe without thinking about the breathing part. The fire crackles low and leaves rustle out in the trees as the others hunker down. Nobody's really sleeping though. Not tonight.

Daryl's keeping watch on the perimeter when his eyes settle on you. Your fingers pause in their assault; you can't continue with an audience. Please just look away so I can keep going, some darkness in your mind pleads. But no, you scramble to pull the coat over yourself to conceal the evidence.

"What's this?" He asks, his voice low enough that the others won't really notice.

"Nothing. I'm fine." You can't meet his eyes, shame has finally pushed its way to the forefront now.

You don't try to stop him as he slides the coat off your shoulder, revealing your handiwork. Even in the darkness, you're sure the ugly redness has to be so obvious. You're not only weak, you're weak and stupid.

He pulls your backpack over and digs through it. "Your first aid kit in here?"

You nod once, but that only initiates the tears. What feeling are they from? Anger? Guilt? Fear? This was always the worst part, hating what you've done and wishing for nothing more than to go back and undo it. After everything that had happened... pathetic.

Daryl finds the antibacterial spray and gets to work. His care and surprising tenderness only make you feel that much worse. You were so incapable of handling yourself that you've got a full-grown man treating you like... like the broken thing that you are.

After that he takes a couple of bandages and wraps them around your upper arms, fingers steady and slow. "Leave 'em alone an' let 'em heal. You're tougher than that." He packs up the supplies, helps you fit your arms back into the sleeves, then waits. You're not sure what he expects from you, but then he mimes a zippering motion. You comply and close up your coat. With a single nod, he turns and returns to his watch of the dark surrounding forest.

Maybe you're just thoroughly messed up, but you trade the repeating images in your mind for his words. The past. You have to leave it alone. You have to let it heal. You're here, now, in the present. Alive. You would be tough enough to stay that way. You would.

#twd #the walking dead #twd season 2 #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #optimist pine

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xerith-42 · 11 months ago

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Stop blaming characters for bad writers

Seriously, stop fucking doing this. While this is a post that could certainly be applicable to MANY fandoms, I'm mainly directing this whole rant at my target audience which is mentally ill minecraft obsessed freaks.

If a character is written badly, gets badly fumbled by the creator, or has the ball dropped in regards to their arc in some way, a lot of people will blame the character, as if they're a real conscious person making these decisions. When they aren't. They're a block man literally being controlled by two people who just aren't very good writers and one or both of them are incredibly sexist, kind of racist, ableist, and just bad writers in general.

Yeah, Laurance does some pretty shitty things through out Season 2 of MCD, actively crossing lines he wouldn't have previously crossed. We as fans can cope by saying something something calling, or just saying Laurance is a bad abusive person, but the reality is that the writers wanted to force the series to fit a specific vision and as a result were willing to do anything to get the series to that point. In order to make Aaron the most favorable suitor for Aphmau, her previous suitors need to be out of the picture, or clearly inferior options.

Garroth suffered the out of the picture, being mostly absent outside of a few cutscenes here and there until episode 81 of season 2, but episode 81 is the culmination of the writers goals to make Aarmau happen. By the time Garroth has returned to the series, the damage has already been done. He's not getting the life he wants. And Laurance is written out of the picture as well, but only after being shown to be inferior because Jesson were pushing an agenda.

Laurance didn't deteriorate as a person due to neglect of his physical and mental well being after a severely traumatic experience. He deteriorated as a character because the writers stopped giving as much of a shit about him and instead were using the series as self indulgent fanfiction of alternate versions of themselves. That's not Laurance's fault.

And this applies to any character who was completely fumbled in MyStreet due to this similar focus on wish fulfillment from the writers. Jess has stated that the relationship between Aphmau and Aaron in Phoenix Drop High is reflective of her relationship with Jason, we all know this. This means that any characters who come off as total fucking creeps in that series (namely Gene), are not actually acting on the whims of their own autonomy or desires as characters. They are acting in service of telling a predetermined story that they are retroactively being added into for author fulfillment.

In this regard I fully support fandom cope and say that you should rewrite your little guys to your hearts content. But if you're going to criticize these characters for their actions, don't criticize them. They didn't do anything wrong. All characters are just puppets in service of the story or themes a writer is trying to push. If a character acts in an objectively terrible way, especially a way that isn't in line with their previous characterizations, that is a failing of the writers, not the character.

And I feel like largely a lot of us can and frequently do this. We're actively criticizing Jesson for being terrible low-key bigoted writers all the god damn time, it's like half of the content here. But when we get into character discourse I feel like some people cling onto bad actions of the canon too closely and I've seen more than a few posts presume some pretty terrible interpretations of characters based on these actions. Obviously Laurance is a character I and a lot of others are fixated on so a lot of discourse revolves around him, and it was seeing some... interesting takes on him that prompted me to start writing this post.

But this happens to everyone. Quite personally based on the character I was shown in MyStreet, it feels really weird that Garroth would make an insensitive comment about his brother's weight. Yeah siblings poke fun at each other and often cross lines, but if that was something Zane was seriously insecure about (which it seems like he might be) then it does make Garroth come off as a really insensitive brother, which just doesn't gel with how hard he tries to bond with Zane despite their tense relationship. And I don't think Garroth should be criticized for making those comments.

Whoever wrote those lines (Jess and/or Jason) should be criticized for writing a scene where a character is mocked by their older sibling over a physical insecurity even if said sibling would not normally do that. It's not Travis' fault that Jesson never decided to give him more of a character beyond "funny pervy guy" that's not funny in every anime they've watched until Season 5 of MyStreet. It's unfair to try and say Travis should be scrutinized for his borderline sexual harassment of some characters when it's not his fault that happened, he was written by writers who don't think this sort of behavior isn't all that bad if they make it out for comedy and punch him in the face.

And god dammit it's not Laurance's fault that his jealousy became the most prevalent emotion he felt. Laurance has always been a character to give into his vices and yet fight against them at the same time, it's what makes him compelling. If they were going to pull on those vices in order to make him a less appealing love interest, he never had a chance to really be his own character after a certain point. Because at a certain point in Season 2, Jesson stopped caring about the character they had been writing for over a hundred episodes at that point. They just wanted to canonize their self insert ship and were willing to do anything to get it.

Laurance isn't an abusive angry person who would have killed Aphmau if they got together. He's a flawed character being handled by incredibly flawed writers who are prone to making some of the worst decisions you have ever seen a creator make in regards to their character writing. He was caught in the crossfire of the adoration he received from a very dedicated fanbase, and the creator who would rather pretend he and his previous arc didn't exist for the sake of her fun. It's not Laurance's fault his arc was stilted, jerked around, and ultimately ended with him completely face planting. And yet still reliably dragging his bloodied body up at just the slightest glimmer of hope (Void Paradox).

It's deeply poetic and tragic that I can describe his character in universe and in the meta-textual sense that way, but we should never blame Laurance, or Aaron, or any other characters for things being like this.

They didn't write the show. Jess and Jason did.

#minecraft diaries #text post #aphblr #aphverse #laurance zvahl #garroth ro'meave #minecraft diaries laurance #mystreet #mystreet garroth #mystreet travis #bad writing #fandom discourse #fandom discussion #character discussion #character discourse

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oumaheroes · 2 years ago

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Hi so I’ve seen you answering some asks and I thought I’d send one myself. I know you don’t do much of soft Arthur and Alfred but if you could that would make my day. Maybe something with a delirious!Al and comforting!dad!Artie? I just need like a tender moment between those two, where they’re not fighting.

Thank you so much 😘😘

ALRIGHT.

You've all been asking for long enough- here's the start of a multipart mini story that has taken me longer than I'd care to admit to get going (three almost full attempts, to be exact)

Characters: England, America

-------

Wreckage: Part 1

The smoke was metallic: sharpened acid and modern warfare.

‘Hello!’

England pulled at the wreckage, bare hands flinching at the searing pain of handling too-hot metal. He wished he’d worn his leather gloves, wished he had thought to put them on a mere few minutes ago when the crunching whirr of broken engines and crashing trees had woken him, but they lay useless and forgotten back at his campsite.

‘Can you hear me! Allô! Pouvez-vous m’entendre!’

The plane wore allied colours. It was a British make but that didn’t mean anything these days- the pilot could belong to any of the allied official or resistance groups. All England knew was that there was to be a drop coming, they were in the middle of nowhere, and that it all had apparently gone horribly, horribly wrong.

‘English! French! Polish! Czy ktoś mnie słyszy- is anyone alive in there!’

The door to the craft was stuck shut, parts of the top hinges warped and buckled from impact. He gave up on opening it to try for the window, pounding at the thick glass with the butt of his gun in fool’s panic (that, at least, he had been sensible enough to bring). He could see someone inside through the thick black smoke, an outline of shoulders and head that seemed to be moving slightly whenever the flames behind them near the engine choked.

This was occupied French territory; the nearest village was a while away but not that far. This crash would be noticed and investigated all too soon. The least England could do was to get in there and end the pilot’s misery before whoever shot them down came looking, there was no help for them out here.

That, and to be sure that there was nothing incriminating to be found.

‘Hang on! Almost there.’ Stepping back, he scanned the forest floor wildly for something better to use and caught sight of a large stone, half buried in the ground by the roots of a tree. It had rained recently, the ground was soft, and England tore into the dirt impatiently to work it free.

‘If you can hear me, sit back!’ Raising the rock above his head, he brought it down with a crash in the lower centre part of the windshield, hopefully far enough away from the pilot’s face. A hairline crack appeared, nothing more, but it was enough. England raised the rock again, choking as the smoke whirled about him, and kept going until the glass had splintered into delicate, cobweb-like lines.

One last hit made a hole. Smoke billowed out immediately and England worked quickly before the flames grew too intense on the new oxygen supply, hacking away until the hole was big enough to push an arm through. His fingers found material, sticky with something England didn’t want to think about, and a weak hand that gripped him back.

Taking a last breath of mostly fresh air, England pushed his upper half through to get to the cockpit, groping about blind until he felt the pilot’s seat straps. The heat was ferocious already, fire just behind where the poor man was trapped, and England fought not to take a breath or retreat to the safety of the cool night air. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, couldn’t see, and the glass bit into his stomach and arms when he leant more of his weight on the frame. It was a struggle but he pushed through, fingers groping by muscle memory to where he knew the clasps were, where he’d need to unhook an arm from the straps to pull the man free.

It would have been far easier to shoot the poor bastard.

It would have been quicker, kinder, than this certainly. No matter what happened, England wouldn’t leave him to die naturally. To die that way- encased in smoke, lungs desperately straining for clean air that wouldn’t come, flames against your feet- was one he knew all too well. It was a horrible way to go, one that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, but cruel though it was to make this child suffer needlessly, the engines hadn’t exploded yet and he couldn’t risk it.

Get him out first. See what message he had to give, if he could give it. Then let him go quickly and cleanly, the knife against England’s thigh waiting and patient.

It took three return trips for air, each one making his lungs burn more and more until he felt light headed and dizzy, but eventually they were free. Pilot cleared from his seat and legs thankfully clear, England hooked his arms under the man’s armpits and heaved them backwards out of the cockpit. There wasn’t far to go, the plane had nosedived onto its side in its final crash from the now broken trees, and they rolled backwards easily onto the forest floor.

The pilot screamed shrilly as they came free and gripped tight on England’s clothes to then sob piteously in his arms.

‘It’s alright.’ England sat up as carefully as he could and gently rolled the man off him to lay on his back. ‘You’re alright, I’ve got you.’

The pilot was a mess, aviator goggles and hair under his cap blackened by soot or oil or both. There was blood all over him, smeared across his neck and front that likely came from his head- England couldn’t tell. There wasn’t the time for it, and it wouldn’t matter soon anyway.

‘Give me your name.’ he asked urgently, struggling onto weak knees to sit over him, ‘Your ID and nationality, I’m-‘

He stopped.

Later, England couldn’t quite say what it was. He hadn’t noticed in the rush what he could feel now- the itch of someone like himself close by. But there was more, perhaps something about the pilot’s body that was familiar, or something deeper than that which ran through them both like the unbroken lines of history. An indescribable connection of family that mortal language couldn’t quite explain.

Fingers clumsy with sudden, familiar, terror, England tugged at the goggles which covered the pilot’s eyes and pitched forwards breathless and horrified at what he found.

‘Oh Jesus- Alfred.’

-------

AN:

The historical research that has gone into this is minimal, so please be kind to any inaccuracies that you see.

#hws england #hws america #aph england #aph america #hetalia #historical hetalia #hws #aph #arthur kirkland #alfred jones #alfred f jones #heroes writes #arthur parenting

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captain-dallas · 5 days ago

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перезагрузить (reset) | marvel | bucky barnes x fem!oc

initially posted on my ao3 mdni banner by @/cafekitsune cw: dead dove do not eat, rape/non-con, mutual non-con (neither of them want it/consent), unprotected piv sex, piv fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, choking, creampie, naked female clothed male, manipulation from zemo, there is zero comfort here, winter soldier bucky barnes

Alexia’s fingers flex as she sits on the couch, an anxious motion as they all listen to Sharon talk. She doesn’t like the other woman, she never has, and the way that Sharon is blaming Sam for everything bad that happened to her just rubs Alexia the wrong way.

Bucky’s hand lands on her thigh, squeezing slightly in an attempt to get her to calm down but it doesn’t particularly work, the air immediately around her dropping a few degrees, a thin sheen of frost forming on her fingers and slowly creeping its way up her hands towards her wrists.

She looks up and her eyes meet Zemo’s, who simply tips his head at her and smiles in a way that feels mocking, causing her powers to spiral a little bit more, the temperature around her decreasing even more.

“Lex.” Bucky says softly and she turns her head to look at him. The hand on her thigh moves to grab one of her hands and she winces, knowing that it doesn’t feel pleasant to touch her right now.

“Buck.” She murmurs back at him, trying to calm herself down. His hand squeezes hers and she lets out a sigh, her shoulders drooping as she leans back against the couch.

Bucky turns his head to press a kiss to her temple, a rare display of public affection, and it brings a small smile to her face. “Sap.” She says quietly, but she appreciates the gesture. It does something to calm her.

Their moment is interrupted when Sharon loudly declares that they need to get changed because the party downstairs is starting and they need to go mingle and look for their target. Alexia pushes herself up off the couch and makes her way over to the rack of clothes by the wall, rifling through it until she finds something serviceable.

Pulling a deep, vivid red dress from the rack, she makes her way over to where Sharon had shown her she could change earlier, stopping to snag a pair of high heels that went well enough with the outfit.

Alexia’s nose turns up at the fancy bedroom that she is now in. Bold of Sharon to complain about being banished from the US when she has a fancy apartment and art gallery like this now.

She strips down to her underwear, wishing that she could shower away the grime of Madripoor, and sets her clothes aside for later, for when they’ve found the man that they’re after.

The door opens behind her and she whips around, ready to confront the intruder, but she relaxes when she sees Bucky. He walks right up to her, his hand grabbing her hip roughly, causing her to flinch.

“Okay, calm down Mister Super Soldier.” She rolls her eyes, her hands coming up to plant themselves on his chest, keeping some amount of space between them.

He doesn’t relent, his other (metal) hand grabbing her throat and causing her eyes to widen. “Hey,” she protests, “I don’t have a problem with you coming in here but you need to slow down.”

The silence is unnerving, usually he’s at least a little vocal, and Alexia feels fear prickle at the base of her spine for the first time since they’ve officially been together. The whole thing just feels off, alarm bells ringing in the back of her mind.

With the hand around her throat, Bucky forces her back against the wall and the impact winds her a little. Now, under the soft light of the sconce, she can see the blank look on his face, the deadness in his eyes, and her heart drops into her stomach.

The Winter Soldier is back.

Panic sets in and she brings her hands up to wrap around the wrist of the hand squeezing her throat, intending on using her abilities but the ice radiating from her fingers doesn’t seem to do anything to the metal of his arm, not even freezing it over or impeding his ability to choke her.

“Buck-” She manages to get out past the hand constricting her airways, his name a desperate plea. It does nothing to stop the man in front of her - does he count as a man right now? she thinks - who simply squeezes harder.

She stops her protests immediately at that, knowing that she can’t reason with him right now. Whatever triggered him, sent him back to this state of mind, is stopping him from being how he usually is with her and it is terrifying.

She is rewarded by the hand around her throat loosening just a little but she knows she’s still going to have bruises tomorrow, reminders of the fact that no matter how hard the Dora Milaje had tried, a small thread of the Winter Soldier still lurks in the back of Bucky’s mind.

Alexia stares into Bucky’s blank, half-lidded eyes, trying to make some sort of contact with the man that she loves, any trace of the Bucky that she knows. When his mouth opens and he utters the words, “Turn around,” her heart drops again, clenching painfully and fearfully in her chest.

“Wait-” She begins but the hand on her throat tightens again and she quickly backs down, “Okay! Okay, just- stop choking me, please-”

He lets go of her throat and she sucks in a deep breath, and even the simple act of breathing hurts now with her bruised neck. The hand on her hip lets go too and she hesitates for a moment before turning around and bracing her hands against the wall. Her eyes settle on the garish wallpaper and her face contorts into a sneer. This was happening to her, here, in Sharon’s shitty, rich girl apartment.

Bucky’s body pressed against her back, something that usually would send heat down between her legs but today only makes her want to recoil in disgust. His arm comes to rest heavily around her waist, a firm hand holding her in place.

The sound of a zipper being undone lets her know what his other hand is up to, his pants shoved down just enough to push down the waistband of his boxers. Once that’s done, his hand comes up to her mouth and two fingers shove their way past her lips, causing her to gag, her eyes stinging with tears.

“Suck.” He commands her, and she shakes her head to try and protest, but Bucky simply shoves his fingers more roughly into the back of her mouth, making Alexia gag and splutter even more, drool running down her chin while tears run down her face.

He practically pets her tongue, ignoring the way she is gagging, stroking two metal fingers across the muscle until he’s satisfied. Before she has the chance to figure out his next planned move, he brings the saliva-covered digits down to the apex of her thighs, pushing aside her underwear and thrusting them inside her.

Alexia lets out a gasp at the intrusion, her eyes screwing shut and her jaw gritting at the lack of finesse. It hurts. There’s no getting around that, but she knows that it’s going to be necessary for what is coming next.

A shudder runs down her spine at that. But it’s not like she can stop him.

She’s brought out of her thoughts when Bucky’s fingers crook up, rubbing against that spongy spot inside of her that causes her to clench around him, muscles contracting at the stimulation.

Despite how much she wants to hate it, her body is responding to his actions, gradually getting wetter and more pliant for him, making it easier for Bucky to manipulate her to his whims. A third finger joins the two probing around inside of her, stretching her out even more, getting her even more ready.

It’s unnerving how quiet Bucky is being, the air devoid of the usual murmurs and grunts she’d grown to love hearing during sex, the way that he would lose his stoic facade. All of that was absent now, no praise or soft noises leaving Bucky’s lips, telling her she was being good or that she could take it. It’s just the sounds of rustling fabric, quiet breathing, Alexia’s soft whimpers and the squelching sound of Bucky’s fingers moving in and out of her pussy.

At some point he must have decided that she was ready because Bucky pulls his fingers out of her, leaving her clenching around thin air and empty.

It doesn’t last for long, however, as he grinds his cock against the crack of her ass, hot and heavy and something that usually has her begging and pushing back against him. As he holds his cock in his hand and notches it at her entrance, the head just barely breaching her entrance, he stills in his movements.

Alexia latches onto this immediately. “Bucky, baby, come on, I know you’re in there, this isn’t you-”

She cuts off as he pushes himself inside her, the hand that was on his cock now quickly covering her mouth as she almost screams. She wasn’t wet enough for this kind of treatment, he’d not spent nearly enough time preparing her and the stretch burns and not in the fun kind of way it usually does.

She’s crying behind the hand over her mouth now, sobbing mutedly, her arms shaking as she tries to hold herself up but she falters and collapses against the wall, her face pressed against the wallpaper, Bucky being the only thing holding her upright now.

He sets a feverish pace, faster than should be possible but her brain idly reminds her that he is a super soldier after all, of course he can fuck this fast.

It isn’t a reassuring thought.

The grip on her hip tightens and she knows that will bruise as well, that she’ll have purple finger shaped marks adorning her skin. A brutal reminder of this encounter, colouring her flesh long after they would be done here.

A snap of Bucky’s hips has her dragged back to the present situation she is in, a choked noise leaving her lips and dying against his palm as he continues to piston his cock in and out of her, carving out a space deep inside of her. Alexia’s eyes slide closed, tears rolling down her cheeks and running rivulets over his fingers, staining his skin salty.

It is a dull kind of ache now instead of a burn, and her body traitorously responds again, creaming around the cock plunging into her depths, clenching as she gets closer and closer to an orgasm she doesn’t want, a sensation she despises now, heat building in her lower stomach.

There’s a grunt in her ear from Bucky, the only warning she gets before he digs his fingers even harder into the fat of her hip, the hand on her face almost crushing her nose, and he comes, spurting hot jets inside her, ripping away the orgasm that she’d had building, leaving her unfulfilled and shaking as he fills her up.

The room is silent again as he stops moving, leaning more of his weight against Alexia’s back which just presses her further against the wall, her tears now staining the horrible wallpaper.

“Lex?” Bucky murmurs, sounding disorientated and Alexia sobs even harder. It’s him, it’s her Bucky, she’s got him back but it’s too late.

He leans backwards, a frown crossing his face as he does so, taking in the frost forming on Alexia’s fingers, the lingering finger imprints on her hip, the wrecked state of her underwear. He sees the tears streaming down her face and the cum dripping down her thigh and he realises what he’s done.

Bucky curses, tucking himself back into his pants. “Lex-” He repeats and reaches for her but Alexia flinches away from him, turning so that her back is against the wall now and he can see how red and puffy her eyes are.

“Baby,” he tries instead and Alexia shakes her head.

“Out.” She manages to say, her voice choked and broken. “Out, James!”

He doesn’t argue, simply turns to leave, tears pricking in his own eyes that she doesn’t see after he turns his back. The door practically slams behind him and Alexia can hear the sounds of people talking outside. She doesn’t know what they’re saying, what Bucky is telling them, but she collapses to the ground, sliding down the wall and curling in on herself.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been crying to herself but the door opens eventually and Zemo walks in, shutting it behind him. He doesn’t speak at first, just crosses over to the bed and grabs the comforter, moving over to Alexia and draping it around her shoulders with a sympathetic expression.

“You poor thing.” He murmurs, stroking some hair from her face. “He really did a number on you.” Alexia flinches from the touch but it doesn’t seem to deter him, and Zemo simply tuts as he kneels down in front of her.

“It is okay.” He coos, like he is talking to a child. “You stay with me for the rest of the night. I will take such good care of you.”

Zemo's eyes are nowhere near as soft as his words but Alexia doesn't care. He's offering the comfort she so dearly needs right now, and she leans into the hand that moves from her hair to caress her cheek.

"Sweet thing." He smiles. "You are far too good for this kind of treatment, my dear." He lowers his voice, soft and almost sultry as he talks next. "Best you stay away from him. You never can trust a man like that."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky barnes smut #marvel #marvel smut #oc x canon #oc x canon smut

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enigmatist17 · 1 year ago

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Catch me thinking about Dooku becoming Obi-Wan's Master after Qui-Gon basically abandons him for Anakin. Note this is them picking up Anakin a few years earlier, where I'm tossing Obi-Wan up at about 17 here.

-----

Obi-Wan walks out of the Council chambers and is starting to freak out at the possibility of being sent to another Master like an errant child, just so his Master could have a new charge. His chest feels heavy as he hurries into the first empty room he can find, and cuts his side of the bond with Qui-Gon off as he sinks to the floor and hugs his legs to his chest. He knows he shouldn't be upset, shouldn't be hurt, but it doesn't matter in the moment.

He's been replaced.

The day passes by in a blur until the feels a familiar presence enter the room, and doesn't have to look up when a gentle hand rests on his head.

"Come Padawan."

"Yes Master Dooku."

The taller man is gentle as he helps Obi-Wan to his feet, one hand remaining on Obi-Wan's shoulders as they make their way through and out of the Temple. The teen is rather curious when Dooku flags down a taxi, and after a quiet drive, they arrive at a café that is mostly empty, something Obi-Wan is quite grateful for at the moment.

"Please, order anything you wish." Dooku watches Obi-Wan pick up the menu, those bright eyes trailing back and forth as he looked it over. He can see the hurt that Obi-Wan was trying to push down like a good padawan, and only felt even more irritation at Qui-Gon. He'd been alerted by Yoda that Qui-Gon was requesting to train a child he and Obi-Wan had returned to the Council with, and had dropped his business in a nearby system to hurry back to Obi-Wan. According to the others he hadn't left the meditation room since that morning, and the older Jedi didn't hesitate to collect the teen.

"Master, what will happen now?" Obi-Wan stares down at the coffee he had ordered, stirring the multi-color foam on top into the drink with his chin resting on his free hand. "I'm assuming I'll be placed with another Master, or perhaps just assigned to the Temple until I can take on the challenges to become a Knight."

"Do you believe that your Master will not take you back?" Those bright blue eyes flicker up, and there's hesitance swirling around before Obi-Wan looks away.

"If I may? Quite plainly...no, he's been obsessed with his Chosen One since we rescued the boy and his mother." The foam is all gone now, and after taking a sip Obi-Wan lets out a pleased noise at the taste.

"I see." Dooku clicks his tongue in disapproval, sampling his own drink as they watch the evening traffic outside the window in a companionable silence.

"I apologize if I took you away from anything important." Dooku raised an eyebrow, and Obi-Wan sees a curious look cross the older Jedi's face.

"Master Yoda was the one to call me, not you. It was right he did as such, I am quite displeased with Qui-Gon." There's a huff from the older man, but Obi-Wan could tell it had no malice behind it. "Although it has been some time since he had been under my tutelage, gaining another padawan is always a welcomed honor."

"Master?" Obi-Wan blinked, watching Dooku take a sip of his drink like he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "Is that - I mean can you?"

"The Council would object, but I do not care. That is, of course, if you find it agreeable?"

Obi-Wan doesn't respond for a few minutes, once again watching the traffic before giving a nod.

"Yes, Master."

They stay for another hour, leaving as Master and accepted Padawan as they slowly return to the Temple.

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I just think they're neat

#personal #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #master dooku #count dooku #obi wan kenobi #I want Dooku to scoop Obi-Wan up and wrap him in a blanket

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thebibutterflyao3 · 10 months ago

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Day 21 - Prompt: Wish @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 882 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

“Lily?” Pandora called, surprised the redhead wasn’t standing outside the medium’s tent. “Where did you go?”

“Well, well. Look who I found.”

She knew that voice. Dread settled heavy in her gut as she slowly turned around. Of all the people that she was prepared to face, he wasn’t one of them.

He was taller than she expected. Evan rarely went for tall blokes, but this one was obviously an exception. The man stood a full foot taller than her and she had to step back to look him over.

Barty had dark hair with faded green highlights and tattoos covering every inch of pale skin that showed through his ripped jeans and heavily stained t-shirt. The head of a snake curling up the side of his neck disappeared under his jaw. He eyed her with disgust as his lip curled into a sneer.

“You’re one of those…I should have guessed. I bet you think you can see the future in a crystal ball too,” he snarked, nodding toward the medium’s tent.

“What do you want?”

“An explanation, to start. I think you owe me that, at least.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Barty straightened up and sauntered forward. His eyes narrowed as he approached. “That’s where you’re wrong. You pushed me too far.”

Pandora stuck her hand in her pocket and fumbled for her mobile. She pulled it out and frantically texted Sirius. He was the only one here who would understand why Regulus needed to hide.

🐼: 🚩Barty🚩

🐼: 🫥Reg

He slapped the phone out of her hand and leaned in too close. His breath reeked of weed and she could practically taste the acrid scent of Red Bull. Barty poked her shoulder and glared.

“I get it. I fucked it up with Reg, but Evan? He’s different.”

“Get my brother’s name out of your filthy mouth,” she snapped, shoving him away with all of her strength. Pandora darted out of the shade of the stall and into the sun.

Despite his slim form, Barty was both solid and fast. He stumbled back a few steps, but didn’t fall. Barty reached out and grabbed her wrist, then yanked her back and shook her hard. Fear paralysed Pandora as he quickly immobilised her arms behind her back and pinned her against the stall with his chest.

“Nice try! You need to answer me, you little cunt. Why did you—”

“Pandora? Who is this?” Lily’s voice shot adrenaline into her veins.

Pandora lunged at Barty, kicking and flailing wildly until he lost his hold. “You bastard! I wish that I hunted you down the first time. You thought I’d let you break my brother too?”

“It wasn’t — stop it! Listen! — that’s not what it was like — for fuck’s sake…stop! — it was different. I was different with Evan!”

“Too little, too late, arsehole!”

Pandora’s knee connected with his bollocks at the same time that Lily lunged at her. She was jerked away from Barty just as he staggered backwards with a sickly expression and his hands clutched to his groin. Lily wrapped her up in a hug and dragged her away from the man that Pandora left writhing in agony on the ground.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Lily asked.

She promptly tripped over a box of handmade toys in front of the neighbouring stall and fell, bringing Pandora with her. They toppled to the ground in a mass of limbs and Pandora landed awkwardly in her lap. The fall knocked the wind out of her and she struggled to regain it.

“Sorry!” Lily said as she shoved Pandora’s tangled skirt down past her knees and smoothed it out. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Really, I’m—”

Thunderous footsteps approached and when Pandora looked up, she found Regulus running full speed toward her with a crowd of people chasing after him. Several were shouting his name, but he ignored them as he called for her instead.

“Panda! Where are you? Panda!”

“Here! Regulus, I have her!” Lily called out suddenly, waving a hand.

He redirected at once and darted into the tent. Regulus dropped to his knees and cradled her face in his hands. “Oh thank goodness! Panda, are you okay? What happened?”

“Him. He happened,” Lily said, gesturing at Barty’s prone form.

James caught up first and practically barrel-rolled into the tent. He snatched up Regulus mid-spin as he crashed into the back of the stall. Pandora smothered a laugh at Regulus’s muffled, and French-filled, protests.

“Mon amor, you could have been hurt!” James said, smothering his face with loud, lip-smacking kisses.

They were sprawled amidst a mess of hand-carved wood crafts while the stall’s owner squawked at them in heavily-accented Welsh. Regulus’s eyes blew wide at the sight of the furious, red-faced man and he dove head-first under his boyfriend’s jumper. James tugged the collar out to peer inside with a delighted grin.

Lily vibrated with silent laughter and dropped her forehead onto Pandora’s shoulder. Equally delighted by her descent into madness, Pandora hugged her neck and toyed with her thick auburn braid wistfully.

She smelled like lilacs and the incense from the medium’s stall. Pandora breathed her in and closed her eyes.

I could get used to this.

Next Part>>>

#pandolily #lily x pandora #pandalily #pandalily microfics #pandora lovegood x lily evans #regulus and pandora #lily evans #pandora lovegood #pandora rosier #barty crouch junior #james potter #regulus black #marauders era

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sunnylands-world · 2 years ago

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draco x lucias x reader smut

The Malfoy men

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem reader x Lucius Malfoy

Summary: you're just cleaning like usual when both Malfoy's decided to fill you with their cocks…

Word count: 1'680 possibly more

Warning: threesome, oral [both male and female receiving] unprotected sex, dirty talk, sir kink, pet names [slut, princess, whore] absolute filthy, spanking, squirting, Lucius is kinda are main star thought it was only fair since I haven't written for him in a long time, reader is filthy I think that's it let me know if I missed anything

Universe: Harry Potter

A/n: I think this is the most filthy thing ever [ Keep in mind you I haven't written anything like this before so bare with me]

You didn't know what time of day it was, most likely noon, since Mrs.malfoy was out grocery shopping as you made the bed for Lucius and Narcissa. You hummed in delight, turning to walk out when you came to a halt seeing Lucius at the door. You weren't sure how long he'd been there watching you and that made your heart race, but you kicked yourself for looking at this man as anything other than your boss, considering he was married. It made it all wrong that you were checking him out but you couldn't resist, he was so tempting.

His long platinum hair, God you loved that hair and you knew it would be soft if you pulled at it and his overall look just made you want to kneel before him. He was surely the type to degrade you, probably through you around a bit and if you're lucky, his large hand would leave a print on your ass.

"Can I help you sir," you said, your voice shaking. you weren't sure when you started hyperventilating.

"No, not with cleaning that is, " he whispered the end smoothly and your thighs squeezed tight.

"Then what would you like sir? a meal?" You are still trying to make this innocent.

"I'd like to eat you, " he states looking you over. His eyes moved slowly and you nearly choked.

"i- we-"

"You won't stop me if I do," he says, walking closer to you. your legs hit the bed.

"but your wife sir isn't this wrong?" You deny the damp panties between your legs.

"call me sir when I fuck my tongue into you okay," he says before he pushes you fully back, putting your legs up on the bed and spreading them revealing the black panties you wore.

"You definitely make black look better than I do, especially since you've decorated these for me." he groans.

"sir you can't-"

"Yes I can, and I'm going to make you shake and cry against my bed until I'm tired." he breathes, pulling you panties away, making you gasp. as if he knew you'd protest he attacked your pussy latching his mouth onto the area and licking you like a frozen treat. your hand grips his hair and it's just as soft as you imagined. you let out a breathless moan, your back arched.

"Lucius, oh god" you're not proud with how quickly you've given in but how could you not when he's making out with your wetness like this. his eyes are shut and you only partly wish you could see the blue color but it really doesn't matter at the moment. you're up on your arms watching him but your head drops back occasionally.

"fuck!" You cry, rutting against his face.

"You taste so good! you're such a slut for letting me do this. you didn't even really try to stop me, just let me stick my tongue in your sweet little pussy." he growls, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer, feet resting on his shoulders. your eyes roll back and you moan on a loop not feeling the slightest bit of worry or guilt as your toes curl against him. your chest rises and falls but he pulls back. you think you'll cry from losing the delicious feeling of his tongue against you.

"don't worry my little slut I'll have you full soon" he says, noticing the pout on your face. He pulls his dress pants down revealing his cock to you. you try not drooling seeing the thick shaft in front of you. his tip red and swallow, the veins running along his length and he's gotta be a good seven maybe even eight. you don't even hesitate spreading your legs wide for him presenting your soaked pussy for his use.

"good little whore. take your clothes off for me, I wanna see all of you." he says. you listen, pulling away your top, your breast bouncing when you get them free. you go to lay on your back but he shakes his head.

"on your hands and knees" he ordered and you listen, getting on all fours trying to anticipate the thrust before it comes but you can't since your eyes trail to the door that's slightly cracked.

What about-

He's buried himself in you. He didn't even go in slowly and it completely cleared your thoughts. He's deep, really deep and he's got himself pressed right against your spot, your wet walls snug around him remembering every fine curve and vein until he begins to move, thrusting into you hard. god, you're sure your g-spot won't exist once he's done beating it like this. your arms are struggling to hold you, his hands gripping your hips bruising the skin.

your eyes roll again and your sure you looked fucked dumb with your mouth hung open constant whines and whimpers leaving you loudly as he slams into you. you've never been able to drip all down your thighs with arousal but you've never been fucked by Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco, you can come in now" he called from behind you and you're not sure you heard him right until…holy shit. Draco's in the room in his boxers and a t-shirt and you can tell from the tent in them that he inherited his father's size.

"Jesus father have you fucked her stupid already?" Draco chuckles. you shake your head. you really want him to put your mouth to good use and quiet your noisy cries.

"Draco please" you beg and Lucius laughs behind you.

"God am I not good enough for you. you need us both," Lucius teased and you nod, your mouth coming open tongue hanging out.

"fuck you asked for it and I'm gonna leave that throat of yours soar" draco growls, pulling his boxers down and your assumption was correct, he is about eight but you don't get to ponder it long before he sticks his cock into your mouth. you hum in appreciation, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue flat against his cock as you suck like you're trying to get every drop. his head falls back with a groan as he grabs both sides of your face pushing all the way.

He goes slower than his father trying to give you time to relax and you're grateful for it as you take a breath through your nose. He bucks his hips into your face, bringing your nose to his base as you gag at bit.

"fuck that's good. Her mouth's nice, warm, and wet." Draco moans,

"just like her pussy." Lucius says, smacking your ass and you moan, clenching around him.

"Oh, you like that don't you." he says, repeating the motion and you let tears of pleasure fall from your eyes as they begin to move. Lucius pulls you back and sends you forward making you engulf Draco's cock, drool running out the corners of your mouth.

"dirty fucking girl, your making a mess." Draco says, eyeing your hazed over look. He'd photograph it if he could. it doesn't take long for the boys to get into a rhythm of a brutal pace. you take this down as the sluttiest thing you've ever done and you're not ashamed as either of them slide in and out of you like a toy. you let your tongue lick around him as much as you can with him being so big and thrusting into you. your breathing is labored and you know you'll need to breathe soon so you work harder to get Draco to fill your mouth with his taste.

you know you're doing something right with the tightening of his balls. you applaud yourself for getting both men at once and you definitely wouldn't change a thing with the way they are taking you. you'd never be able to decide between them when they both are so alluring with their looks. Lucius grows sloppy behind you and draco's mumbling gibberish as he thrust into you. you whine letting him know you need air and he seems to get it pulling out letting you take in oxygen and your moans come out after with tears coming down your cheeks.

You sound like you're crying but it's all so intense and so good that you're shameless about letting them know, you're babbling about it.

"you're a loud little princess for us aren't you?" Draco asks, crouching down a bit so he's at eye level. you nod to gone to piece together words.

"I like that," he whispers, before he crashes his lips on yours tasting himself. you kiss back with the same need till he pulls away putting his cock back inside your mouth. you go back to work sucking hard when you feel yourself shake and tremble then you're gushing and you're not even with them anymore. everything's white like you've risen to a place beyond Earth till you're pulled back with a hard deep thrust into your throat and you know Draco's coming right behind as Lucius pulls out cleaning his and your mess from between your legs.

you let Draco use you till he reaches his end with an animalistic growl. his salty taste fills your mouth, some of it coming out the corner of your lips. your addicted to his taste sucking it from him till he hisses pulling away. he bends again kissing you before he goes and gets another towel cleaning the mess that was all over your neck. he grabs you from the bed as Lucius cleans the sheets remaking it all with a flick of his wand.

"stay with her while I get water and food" Lucius says and draco nods cuddling beside you.

"How are you, princess?" He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I'm pretty happy," you stretch like a cat after a nap.

"I got fucked by both Malfoy's" you finish and draco chuckles as your eyes flutter.

Draco lovers and requests

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