#fat camp au

[meep9898]

19. fat camp AU setting for Minerva? It just sounds funny, sending such a bright techie to a boot camp filled to the brim with exercise cramps and dieting lmao

Stress-eating could be a dangerous slippery slope if left out of control. It starts with one nibbling on something, anything, in order to get their mind off the troublesome thoughts that plague it. Then, as the anxiety remains and one grows accustomed to those light bites, the mind and the system begin demanding more in order to bury the worries under countless calories. One treat turns into a small handful, that handful becomes a proper snack, the snack evolves into a proper meal, and soon, before one is aware of it, they may find themselves shoveling whatever their fridge might offer into their uneasy stomach in the middle of the night.

This was the slippery slope that Minerva Webber was currently on. A path that had turned the once svelte IT worker into a staright-up fatty that struggled to comfortably sit her rear on her tiny office chair. It was true that the brunette had always been a sedentary and stressful person, even after the incident that had left her stuck working at the same company for over seven years. However, it wasn't until her recent promotion that her workload and stress levels increased exponentially, reaching a point that had led Minerva towards partaking in the bad habit of stress-eating.

At first, only she could tell that a soft layer of flab had developed around her midsection, lightly straining her blouses and skirts, but it wouldn't be long until everyone at the office could tell she had packed on the pounds. It would be impossible not to do so! After all, nowadays, everything about her was fat! Minerva's face had grown rounder, now sporting softer atrributes, including puffier cheeks and a pair of chins that neatly coated over a third of her neck. Flab accumulated on her arms would wobble whenever the techie rushed to type something on her keyboard. The tire of fat that her belly had become flowed outwards whenever she was at her desk, gingerly resting atop an ample pair of thickened legs that were constantly fighting for space, chaffing against each other. Not to mention how her caked-up rear became the daily attraction whenever Minerva walked into the workplace.

If there ever would be any hope for Miss Webber to get back into shape, someone had to put a stop to her terrible eating habits. Of course, Minerva wouldn't do it herself, always finding an excuse, mostly thanks to her job, to avoid exercising or dieting. Luckily for the hefty woman, her coworkers cared enough about her wellbeing to force her into taking action by enrolling her in a fat camp. At least she thought so...

Much to her dread, embarassment, and irriation, Minerva was sent to the fat camp the very next day.

Once Minerva arrived at Camp Colossal Caboose, she was slightly relieved to discover that she somehow was the smallest participant at the place. Perhaps, if she truly gave it her all, there could be a chance for her to actually lose weight. Perhaps she could get back the thin figure she had outgrown long ago. Perhaps...

"Listen up, ya porkers! Looks like some of ya have been doin' a great job while ya were away from camp, while some of ya fatasses have been slacking off. Unnaceptable behavior! Here at Camp Colossal Caboose, we take things like this seriously. Understood? Ya will all be punished for this once today's activities begin, including ya!"

The boisterious woman pointed a swagger stick at Minerva.

"What's yer name, newcomer?"

"Minerva Webber. Minerva Webber, ma'am."

"Ma'am. Pfft. Ya hear the stickwoman? Hah! Looks like she doesn't know how things work 'round here yet. But don't worry, Minerva Webber...", she said her name in a mocking tone, "...ya'll grow used to Camp Colossal Caboose in no time. Give the bag of bones a triple ration when we get to the dinning hall. She needs to get some meat on that scrawny body!"

"WHAT?!"

Before Minerva could protest a pair of women, fatter than any she had ever seen before, dragged the brunnette away. Clearly, this wasn't the kind of Fat Camp she had envisioned and her waistline will suffer greatly for it...

[fat-hedonistic-hogs]

The idea of mama Salem running a proper fat camp but bait and switching it is funny in my head. She has all these willing or unwilling campers some desperate to lose weight and for the first week or so she puts them through the wringer with exercises and diets... humiliating them taunting them... the works!

Eventually some start to break others fully snap and start throwing fits a bit due to the stress... Salem "punishes" them by demoting them to piggy status. But to the others still doing regular camp activities it looks like paradise! They get naps, can eat whatever they want... and don't have to do any exercise! One by one more and more people drop out and join the piggy side of camp until the entire place gets turned into the perfect feedee summer camp! And None of the newly fattened butter balls will be too scared of diet and exercise to even think about trying to lose weight again!

[achubbydumpling]

I'm not sure if you ever finished the fat camp Bucky AU, but I'm curious as to what he and Steve are up to when the next summer rolls around?

Like it's summer again and this would be about the time Bucky would be getting signed up for camp, but… he's certainly outgrown the camp by now, considering how close he was the previous summer. But just how much has he outgrown it? He has def passed 600lbs, ofc, but by how much? Now that he and Steve (assumedly) live together, are they actively fattening Bucky up? If so, he's almost certainly passed 700lbs by now, possibly more

And considering how out of shape he already was, he's only gotten worse, and heavier on top of that, so is he immobile yet? Close to it? How close, close enough that a big part of their dirty talk and foreplay is talking about how fucking fat Bucky got, how just over, what, 3 years? He gained somewhere around 300lbs, how immobility is fast approaching especially since he's so sedantary and only getting bigger?

I'm just curious as to where you were picturing them that following summer and maybe even further ahead than that! Apart of the most recent part of the AU you have posted that's one of my absolute favorite parts of the AU is the shock everyone has when they see just how fat Bucky got over quarantine, so I wonder if that would be a thing after Steve and Bucky move in together?

Oh also! Just had an idea (sorry for the long ask lmao), but what if Steve has to go back this one last summer, but Bucky can't go since he's too big, so he stays home. What if he has a new goal to get as huge as possible and surprise Steve when he gets home? So he starts making weight gain shakes and chugging heavy cream, and with how sedentary he is and all the calories he's consuming, he's hitting somewhere between 25 to 30 lbs per month, and after 3 months of this… there's a noticeable difference. After all, Bucky has gained between 70 and 90 lbs since Steve last saw him!! If he thought he struggled getting around before, he and Steve will be surprised at how much he struggles once Steve gets home!

DID YOU HACK MY TUMBLR DRAFTS?!

haha I'm joking, but that's basically what I imagined for them, we're on the same wave length, nonny

I definitely think they'd move in together, I do think Steve would still work at the camp but I imagine this is the last summer he does. Just so he can focus on his degree fully in the last semesters.

While it's tempting to say Bucky would just keep gaining, I do think 700lbs is probably the upper bounds he gets to. (Which you know is still freaking huge! even if he's what? 6' in (movie) canon)

Also like everyone's weight naturally fluctuates, but Bucky's maybe a bit more? Especially after writing that Greased Watermelon Wrestling prompt, this Bucky has been cemented in my mind as loving summer and that he loves spending time outside during the summer--in a park, on the beach, maybe little walks in the woods. Nothing too far or strenuous, it's about enjoying nature, the outside.

Meeting with friends! He's a social butterfly, he loves to hang out with people. Just chatting over a cool drink and something to snack on :D haha I lowkey have this entire idea of him and why he might've struggled particularly over lockdown and self-soothed/medicated through food?

but anyway let's actually get to that idea at the end, because I love it! him and Steve apart and Bucky decides to gain as much weight as he possibly can, it's a fun challenge, he wants to see how much he can push himself but also what Steve's reaction will be (I mean obv positive haha)

they still talk every day, maybe they have video calls too? imagine Steve going crazy because he's sure Bucky's face is looking rounder, his cheeks look so plump and his double chin has gotten bigger, hasn't it?

but Bucky is super non-commital, says "oh, maybe, I mean I haven't changed anything and I usually drop a few pounds during the summer, so don't be disappointed when you come back" while he can literally feel that he's heavier, his belly feels even more vast, reaching all of it in the shower even with a reach extender (is that the right word?) is a chore and a half but he wants to surprise Steve and it's not like the added struggle isn't hot, but sometimes he just wants to take a damn shower, you know?

anywayyy, I hope you'll enjoy Part 5 of the Fat Camp AU!

[rancid-rotten-slobs]

Yang is definitely the fat camp's breeding sow~ A prime brapping butch hog like her shouldn't be put to waste after all, especially with all the hung drill instructors ready to teach the crybaby a lesson!

She tried to skip out on her diet of lard slop and instead had someone sneak her in some salad! Clearly a pathetic attempt at cheating on her diet... she had to be punished! Demoted to nothing more than a pig... she already lost her hair now she's gotten her uniform taken away! She doesn't even get a bed or cabin just a pig pen filled with mud stuck behind her team's cabin... breakfast is served with a bucket and a trough

[funishment-time]

76, i just noticed there's no 77 on that list, and 78

(from this ask game...i assume!)

76.) Which Character Would You Like To Meet In Real Life?

Sayaka! i am of the opinion that Sayaka really is that sweet...because she chooses to be. it doesn't come easy for her, but she works at it, finds the best in everyone, finds compliments for even the Least Bearable of her classmates. that is what makes her an idol. if it came naturally to her, if she was kind down to her very core, well, that's genetics and brain chemistry - that's not idol-worthy, is it?

and i'd love to talk to her about that. ask her if she has tips for it. that's what i wanna be, dawg

(this is how she can simultaneously be quite nice and also murderous. her instinct is to be a Shithead. her Actions show otherwise, because she chucks away her instinct and makes a choice. divorced of wider society, however, the mask falls, and she fails...just as Junko wanted. you might still find this Manipulative: i don't. i think being kind because it's right to be, even if your body and mind want to go feral, is the way of the world. anyway.)

78.) Which Character Would You Never Like To Meet In Real Life?

nagito looks like he smells

[chettyspagetti]

MORE OF THEM IN THIS!!!! Neil plays dnd like a LOOSER so when Aj found out he had to try and play one game. He made a Jedi Frat Cowboy. Then some Monkey Kid au :3 And finally just some silly Cubical Au stuffs <3 AJ jokingly flirts with Neil sometimes (after a while of talking) and the first time didn’t go awesomely… he was a nervous wreck Xp Some pool stuff and Neil getting nervous (who wouldn’t if you went to the pool with your crush) And OBVIOUSLY AJ can pick Neil up. Like no problem. BRIDAL STYLE!!!! And over his shoulder but I didnt draw that, not enough time . Will draw it tomorrow though

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Spinelluva Boss AU: Ruby Rose’s Kindred Spirits (2023) 

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[Note: This Drawing Will Be Used As A Cover For A Chapter Over At Quotev, BUT please remember Not To Reblog This Here Without My Permission, I can use this drawing and place it on both here and over at Quotev, but others cannot do that....respect that and everything should be fine. :) ]  

Credit for RWBY goes to Monty Oum

Credit for Camp Camp Series goes to Jordan Cwierz & Miles Luna

Credit for Undertale & Deltarune goes to Toby Fox

Credit for Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss  goes to Vivienne “Vivziepop” Medrano

Credit for Transformers goes to Hasbro

Credit for Transformers: EarthSpark goes to Entertainment One & Nickelodeon

Credit for Transformers Animated goes to Sam Register, Matt Youngberg & Derrick J. Wyatt

Credit for Steven Universe Series goes to Rebecca Sugar

Credit for Bendy Game Series goes to Joey Drew Studios Inc.

Credit for Five Nights At Freddy's Series goes to Scott Cawthon & Steel Wool Studios

Credit for Fallout Series goes to Bethesda Softworks & Interplay Entertainment

Credit for Sonic The Hedgehog goes to Sega

Credit for Sonic Prime Series goes to Sega & Netflix

Credit for My Little Pony goes to Bonnie Zacherle

Credit for My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic goes to Lauren Faust

Credit for Super Mario Bros goes to Nintendo

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Ruby Rose has her red cape laying in the middle, and Sari is laying her head on it. and Cozy Glow’s tail is on the red cape as well.

the little boy next to Bendy, is Synth-Shaun aka "Shaun" who's designation is S9-23 from Fallout 4...

the Tarantulas in this drawing, is the version from Transformers: EarthSpark.

the Spinel in this, is what she looks like in her third form in the Spinelluva Boss AU. and at first I was going to have Robo-Fizz being the one who is resting his head on her lap, but then I decided to put Fat-Nuggets there instead, who is bringing a smile on Spinel’s face, but originally she wasn’t going to smile.

I might have this as a cover for one of the future chapters over at Quotev...

Cozy Glow is crying, and she has a picture of herself, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, the picture of them has her tears on it.

for all we know, part of the reason Cozy Glow did what she did, might have had to do with those three, and we know their human counterparts had crossed a line when it came to Sunset and their sisters...

the Sonic in this drawing is suppose to be the one from Sonic Prime, and next to him is the Red Prism Shard, it being a part of The Paradox Prism.

I started on this drawing on May 17, 2023 and finished it on May 20, 2023.

Foxy is suppose to be comforting Blitzo, we can think of the hook as not being the same one that he normally has, and being made out of plastic.

the reason why Lancer is wearing a crown, is because he is the new ruler of the Card Kingdom, and I do have a theory that he and the real Ralsei are stuck in the Card Kingdom, while a fake version of Ralsei appears back in Castle Town in Chapter 2, and Faux-Ralsei traps the Real Ralsei and Lancer in Card Kingdom, by locking that Delta Rune Door, as well as it’s counterpart in the Light World that happens to be the closet in the unused classroom.

the Lancers that are in Castle Town, I think those are Lancer’s brothers.

the King named all of his sons Lancer, and forgets that he has Quadruplet sons who he all named Lancer, and one of them is still back at Card Kingdom with the Real Ralsei.

if Chara ever fell into the dark world after the events of Chapter 1, they could end up in Card Kingdom and end up befriending (mostly against their will...but ends up willing to be later on...) both Lancer and Ralsei.

unlike the Chara the Player sees during a Geno Route, this version of Chara has their eyes covered by their bangs much like Kris.

maybe the Chara in this drawing, could be a introvert and doesn’t like talking about their brother, the original Prince Asriel. 

anyway, Spinelluva Boss is suppose to be a Crossover of Steven Universe and Helluva Boss, but it can still have other crossover elements in it, but not all of them will be in a major role.               

[andypantsx3]

part ii of the dragon shouto au : prequel + part i warnings: unedited lol, afab implied fem reader, possessive dragon boyfriend shouto, unrealistically excellent first time, 18+ minors please dni!!

the thing about having a human-shaped shouto on your hands was that he didn't quite seem to understand humans did things differently than dragons.

where before you'd cuddle up against shouto in his dragon form and spend the night insulated under his thick leathery wings, or let him rest his head in your lap as you absently stroked his scales—those things took on an entirely different connotation when you thought about performing them with a human man.

particularly a human man who looked like shouto.

shouto did not appreciate the distinction.

"i am yours and you are mine," he said simply, the third night after he'd transformed.

you'd tried to take him home, at first, unclear about what to do with an entire human man on your hands, but had quickly realized this unwise.

your parents, ordinarily traditional and fussy, had been floored by the audacity of your bringing a man home still unwed. but they had kept their distance once shouto's pupils went slitted, and a familiar guttural noise tore out of him when they attempted to remove you from him, not-quite-human-teeth snapping.

it was exactly as it had been when you'd brought him home as a child, and he a lizard the size of a fat cat. he'd staked an unmistakable claim on you, and any hand that got between you two would be severed.

so you'd taken shouto back out into the field where he'd transformed, in the interest of keeping your family home intact. you'd lit a fire again, camping out with him over night, trying to keep your distance and failing.

"it's different with humans," you said, freezing when shouto's head suddenly appeared in your lap. he looked up at you expectantly, those blue and grey eyes searching your face, a tiny frown on his lovely mouth.

"it is not different. you are mine in any form," he said. a large, elegant-fingered hand caught yours, guiding your hand up to his hair.

you laughed despite yourself, his insistence on being pet all too familiar in any form as well. carefully, you stroked your fingers through the red and white strands, marveling at their silky softness. shouto's eyes slipped closed and he let out a contented huff, long eyelashes sweeping the tops of his cheeks.

your face heated. he was very beautiful.

"in human custom, i can only belong to one man," you said to shouto, unable to keep the dismay from your voice.

you did not want to take a husband, and it would be all the more difficult now that the entire village had seen human shouto trailing after you the last few days, following you as he always did in his dragon form. except now they had all seen very human, very male hands on you, had seen how closely shouto shadowed you, as if your body was an extension of his own, and no space was needed between you.

you knew there was already talk.

"i am one man," shouto rumbled, turning his face into your stomach. something fluttery jumped in your stomach as the feeling of his soft exhalation over your hip bone.

"i meant a husband, shouto," you said. "i am obliged to take a husband."

shouto was quiet a moment, before another slow, hot breath warmed the fabric of your shirt. "you said i was the only boy for you."

something lightning hot raced up your spine, embarrassment mixed with the thrill of the implication. you looked into the fire for something to do with your attention, watching the flames lick over the logs.

"i said that when you were a dragon," you hissed, your ears prickling with heat. "i didn't mean you would be my husband."

a strong arm wound its way around your waist, pulling you that much closer to shouto, locking you against him. a fiery blue eye cracked open, fixing on you with inhuman intensity. the pupil looked a little slitted in the firelight, and you swallowed in apprehension.

"i am yours and you are mine. if that means i am to be your husband then i will be," shouto said with unmistakable decisiveness.

the thing in your stomach fluttered again, and your thighs shifted beneath shouto's head. his other hand gripped the flesh above your knee, holding you in place.

you choked, your hands freezing in shouto's mop of white-and-scarlet hair. "you don't know what that means."

his hands tightened on you. "i have lived among your people nearly as long as you have. i am not unfamiliar with human custom."

your face burned, words slipping out of your reach. did he really understand what he was saying here? you'd known he'd long understood you, but it had never been clearly exactly how much his dragon brain was processing. but now...

"but you can't—if you know what it means—shouto, you can't—"

a hot mouth met the skin of your stomach, just under your shirt, and the words choked off in your throat. a slow, careful nip to your skin made you freeze.

"i will be your husband and you will be mine," he purred, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. his mouth dragged over your hip.

your hand fisted in his hair, gripping on for purchase. shouto did not seem to mind, his mouth mapping the edge of your stomach, your hip, the waistline of your unladylike trousers.

a shaky breath escaped you. "there are parts of a human union, though, shouto, that i'm not sure you, um, quite understand."

the hand at your knee slid up your thigh as the hand at your back disappeared, reappearing at your hip, pulling the waist of your pants a little lower.

"i understand," shouto replied, his mouth meeting the newly exposed strip of skin above your pelvis. it was only his grip on you, the weight of him across your legs that kept you from jumping a mile into the air. "i have taken this form for that reason."

words failed you, their meanings slipping right out of your mind as shouto's mouth moved painfully gently and deliberately lower and lower.

"ah, shouto—" you managed.

shouto hummed, and you felt his eyelashes flutter against the skin of your stomach, though most of his face was obscured by the fall of your shirt.

"you smell like mine," he rumbled into your skin, sounding altogether too pleased. "i will make it so. i will keep you and care for you as you have kept and cared for me."

another trembling breath quivered in your lungs before you found yourself flat on your back on the ground. shouto had somehow managed to keep himself beneath your shirt, only this time his mouth met the underside of your chest bindings.

"you like it," his voice sounded wondering where it issued from beneath your shirt. you'd have found it comical if not for what he was saying. "you like this form—i can smell it."

his weight moved on your legs, shifting into the cradle of your thighs. he was so warm and broad over you, hot as fire even though the shirt and trousers you'd managed to wrangle him into.

you did not like being laid so bare, but shouto was your oldest friend, and your attention was rapidly being subsumed not by his words but by the feeling of your chest bindings coming undone under your shirt.

"shouto—you are, um, of course very handsome," you said, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders. you thought you should push him away to have this conversation from a safer distance, but your arms were barren of the strength to do so, instead clutching him closer. "but you've only been a man for a couple of days. what if there are other women who—oh—oh!"

a hot mouth closed over your left nipple, soft but firm as if in reprimand. "there are no other women. there is only you."

a hot tongue, a little longer than you thought might be normal, laved over the peak. your hips pressed up into shouto without your say so, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. he was doing a little too well under there.

"sho—shouto," you said when he found the other breast, long fingers pulling your bindings down to expose it to him. you'd never had a man's mouth on you before, except for the kiss shouto had given you upon first transforming.

the feeling was mind-numbingly good, and suddenly the idea of a husband—of shouto as your husband—was altogether too appealing, if this is what it was going to be like.

your hips shifted into him again, and you felt his rumbling purr in the meat of your breast.

"my treasure. mine." shouto said when he finally seemed satisfied with the attention he'd lavished on your breasts.

he pulled himself back out of your shirt, leaning in to take your mouth instead as he laid himself out over you. you could feel something firm and insistent press against your inner thigh, hot and hard and unmistakable.

shivers crawled up your skin, little frissons of pleasure.

"say you will be mine," shouto puffed against your mouth, his hands already yanking at your trousers. "please say you will be mine."

he was so handsome over you, your most steadfast friend wearing the most beautiful face you had ever seen, new to you and yet so undeniably familiar, somehow. the sight of him settled that feeling inside you you'd had your entire life, the feeling that the thing you were meant for was just out of reach, just beyond the next corner.

he looked like everything you were meant for—everything that was meant for you.

feeling strangely squirmish and shy, you managed an answer. "i always have been."

a heartbreakingly beautiful grin swept over shouto's mouth, a sweet half-moon. his pupils were unmistakably slitted, his two-toned eyes looking just as they did in his dragon form.

in a few shift movements shouto had you both divested of your trousers, and was pressing slowly, carefully inside you.

the feeling was strange, foreign. but with shouto over you, the weight of him holding you down kept you grounded, and soft kisses to your neck and shoulder kept you just distracted enough as he slid home inside of you.

you felt full in a way you'd never imagined, physically and otherwise. your nerves sparked to life when two of shouto's fingers found their way to where you connected, pressing firmly over your clit. a shivery moan escaped you, and shouto's mouth clamped down lightly over your shoulder.

"mine, mine, mine," he groaned into your skin, flexing his hips. the slide of him inside you was better than you'd known it would be, especially when he cupped the small of your back, pulling you into him at an angle.

between his fingers on your clit, rubbing little insistent circles, and the press of him inside of you, you quickly grew frantic, returning his thrusts with eager motions of your own hips, reveling in the way it sent sparks skittering up all your nerve endings.

your liked the way your breasts pressed into his chest, the firm way he held you to him, the bruises he was sucking into the skin of your neck. talented fingers pinched carefully at your clit, a slurry of sensation.

he seemed determined to work you up, hard and fast, and he was succeeding. you felt like pudding in his hands, melting, dripping, hot over his fingers. every single one of his movements seemed calculated to drive you insane, drive you to writhe against him harder, more desperately.

in no time at all you were gasping his name into the cool night air, chasing the release of an unfamiliar pressure.

"let go, love," shouto said, kissing your mouth again. "let go and be mine."

you nodded, words failing you as something inside of you snapped and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed into you, sweeping away all thought. shouto fucked you right through it, his groans rumbling into growls, full-throated and deep. the slide of him inside you became almost too much and you squirmed underneath him, but couldn't bring yourself to want it to stop.

shouto's thrusts grew faster, messier. you heard his fingers rake the ground at the side of your head as he finally came too, his slender hips grinding into your thigh as he spilled inside of you. he went rigid over you, huffing your name, until finally he relaxed into you, his hard body pinning you to the ground.

"this will be an interesting conversation to have," you said some minutes later, when both of you had settled. your hands found their way into shouto's hair again and he pressed up into them like a pleased tomcat.

"there will be no question now. you are my mate, and i am your husband," shouto said, sounding smug. his eyes were closed but you thought they would be glittering with pleasure if they were open.

"we'll still need to do the human ceremony," you said. "but i can't imagine anyone could stop us."

shouto all but purred. "i will eat them if they try."

you laughed, yanking on his hair. "you will do no such thing."

"then i will fly you off to the nearest cave and mate you so thoroughly no questions could ever be asked," he said instead. "there will be no doubt you are mine."

your thighs clenched involuntarily around his hips, and you could tell by the flutter of his long lashes that he was suppressing a smug expression.

"maybe for the honeymoon," you allowed, trying not to sound too interested.

but shouto was your oldest friend and you were learning he'd long known everything about you. "definitely for the honeymoon," he decided, shifting to pull you into the circle of his arms, tucked safely into his side.

you settled into his embrace, feeling truly content for the first time in your life, certain of the one thing shouto had been insisting this whole time.

you were his, and he was yours. always.

[wolvietxt]

𝓭aryl 𝓭ixon…

with a FAT crush on reader

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : fluff, headcannons, confession, jealousy, budding relationship au, painfully awkward :3 wc : ~600

❀ daryl often finds himself stealing glances at you, unable to look away when you’re talking to others or just being yourself. whenever you catch him, he quickly looks away, his cheeks heating up.

❀ when you’re nearby, daryl tends to trip over his words. he might start to say something casual, only to forget what he wanted to say altogether, leaving you confused while he awkwardly shifts his gaze.

❀ he feels a pang of jealousy whenever he sees you laughing or chatting with someone else, even if it’s just a friendly conversation. he’ll huff under his breath, trying to hide how bothered he is, even though he knows it’s silly.

❀ if he manages to give you a compliment, it comes out as a jumble of awkwardness. he might say something like, “you look nice today. really nice. not that you don’t always look nice, but…” and then trails off, flustered.

❀ daryl often finds himself going out of his way to help you, whether it’s fixing something around the camp or sharing some of his hunting spoils. he takes pride in being useful to you, hoping you notice his efforts.

❀ he’ll tease you lightly but affectionately, using humour to mask his feelings. if you’re frustrated with something, he might say, “you can’t be that mad. you’re too cute for that,” which makes you roll your eyes, but he’s secretly pleased when you laugh.

❀ when you’re injured or upset, daryl is quick to offer comfort, often in the form of silence rather than words. he’ll sit beside you, his presence calming, and might even offer a hand to hold, hoping you know he’s there for you.

❀ he remembers little details about you that others might overlook, like your favourite snacks or books. if he finds something that reminds him of you, he’ll make a mental note to bring it up later, wanting to connect with you on a deeper level.

❀ in private moments, he lets his guard down a bit, showing you his softer side. he might share stories from his past or express vulnerabilities, hoping to build trust and deepen your bond, even if he struggles to put his feelings into words.

❀ he shows his affection through little gifts he picks up during runs. he might bring you a pretty stone or a small trinket he found, trying to act nonchalant about it, even though his heart races when you smile in appreciation.

❀ daryl feels protective over you, always watching your back and making sure you’re safe. when you’re in danger or upset, he can’t help but step in, often saying something gruff but caring.

❀ he gets nervous when you touch him, whether it’s a casual brush of your hand or a comforting hug. he’ll freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react, but inside, he’s a flurry of emotions.

❀ when you talk about your interests or passions, he listens intently, even if he doesn’t fully understand. he loves hearing you speak, and he admires your passion, even if he can’t express it well.

❀ the longer he keeps his feelings to himself, the more he worries about losing you. he often thinks about what might happen if you found someone else, which makes him realise just how much he cares for you.

❀ eventually, in a moment of vulnerability, he might finally admit his feelings, saying something like, “i’ve liked you for a while, you know?” his voice is quiet, but the sincerity is clear, and he hopes you feel the same way.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[meep9898]

widestwaistlines Minnie coming back from camp as Maxxie

@widestwaistlines

That is only if they ever let her out of that camp.

[moralesluvr]

thinkin about a cheerleader reader who’s the opposite of earth 42 miles…she’s super sensitive and sunshine-y and one day she has a bad practice and she comes home to miles and he pulls her into his lap and comforts her :(

cheerleader!gf ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: miles morales x cheerleader!black!fem!reader, college au. ♡ summary: after having a bad day at cheer practice, you land into the arms of your boyfriend to comfort you ♡ warnings: miles and reader being total opposites, miles teasing the reader, my bad spanish...i think thats it? ♡ a/n: i'm totally projecting bc i had cheer camp this week and im so dead (i sprained my thumb...yikes.) ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

↳ translations: "Dime qué está mal, mi amor." - Tell me what's wrong, my love.

TODAY WAS NOT YOUR DAY, to say the least.

This morning had already started off...not the greatest. Your bow had a stain on it and you almost lost your favorite pair of shorts, not to mention you accidentally showed up to practice wearing the wrong shirt.

But things really started to deescalate when a girl's foot had accidentally collided with your nose, leaving it severely red and irritated as fat tears trickled down your cheeks, a red swelling blossoming against your skin as your coach sat you out of practice. You swore it was broken by the way all your pain was leveraged onto one side of your nose over the other, but the trainer insisted that it was probably just severely irritated and bruised.

As practice ended, you made your way into your car as your short, manicured nails grasped around the gear shift in utter pain. You put your vehicle into drive and flew down to your shared apartment that you and your boyfriend resided in, the courtesy of going to colleges that weren't too far from each other.

When you walked into your home, you made your way to your bedroom as you knocked twice.

"Come in, baby." You heard your boyfriend announce, the rhythm of your knock letting him know that it was you. You pushed the door open and sighed, leaning against the doorframe as your cheer bag slung over your shoulders. Miles is sitting propped up on the couch in your room, controller nudged in between both hands with a headset on. He turns to you and starts to ask you how your day has been, but when he takes note of the tears pooling in your puffy eyes and the ice pack that rests on your nose, he slowly takes off his headset, "Yo, I'mma have to hit y'all later. I need to talk to my girl."

He motions for you to come here, and you drag over to him, standing in between his sweatpant clad thighs. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at you with glossy eyes, "What's the matter with you, ma? Why you got that ice pack on your nose?"

You start your sentence, but Miles places his thick hands on your upper thighs, pulling you onto his lap. He licks his lips intensively before cocking his head to the side, maintaining sincere eye contact with you.

"Dime qué está mal, mi amor."

Sniffling, you gave him a weak shrug, "Got hit 'n bruised my nose...look at it!" You exclaimed with an element of downheartedness laced in your voice, taking the ice pack off of your nose to let your lover see. "This freaking girl kicked me in my face and now my nose is like, on the other side of my face. And my coach didn't even ask me if I was okay, he just sat me out! Do you now how discouraging that is? I-"

"Shh, mami." Miles cooed, one of his hands coming up to lightly feel your nose. He brushed the sides of it with the padding of his gentle fingers, his brown irises widening when he feels a bump on the side of your nostril. "It's swollen as hell- I won't hold you, but it'll go away soon, I promise. But I'm sorry you had a bad day, princess."

He places his lips on your neck, peppering kisses there as you sniffle a laugh at him, your sensitive skin tickling at his touch. He then tilted his head to the side, "You gon be okay? You still pretty, even with a broken nose."

You feel your eyes water at his statement, worry coursing through your veins as you pouted at him, "It's broken?"

"No, mama," Miles chuckled, lightly pecking you on your pretty lips, "It's perfect. Just perfect."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒�� 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker // @evacowan // @popeheywardssecretgf

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

hii could you do a fake dating trope with Percy?

FAKE DATING PERCY JACKSON HC'S ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

pairing: percy jackson x unclaimed!fem!reader

warnings: swearing, like one mention of the giggidy + really shitty family members making comments abt weight.

a/n: it actually took me a good three seconds to decide to write this. i love love LOVE the fake dating trope omg. so yes please! im also going on a break tonight and i wanted to post something before i left hence why this is hc and not a fic <33

you had approached percy with the deal of fake dating first

he was convinced you were playing a joke on him and had declined but when you had actually given him a list of pros and cons he was swayed

he agrees really quickly - a little too quickly

when the camp had found out you were dating nobody was shocked cause they'd all been shipping you for years

percy would show up at your cabin every morning to walk you to breakfast no matter what

you would hang out more and more eventually just spending all your free time together

convincing the camp you were dating insisted of hands in back pockets of jeans, random hugs (which you've become quite a fan of), little notes left in each others cabins, and cheek kisses.

you had a "date day" every saturday

that is percy's favourite day of the week.

a whole day hanging out with you? hell yeah

when percy invited you home for the holiday's you agreed but warned him he might have to meet your own family

he agreed and assured you its fine

sally loves you.

like she thinks of you as her daughter and welcomes you with warm hugs and food

when your family demands asks to meet percy you both dress nicely and you brace yourself for an awful night

your family is appalling to you but adoring to percy

they make comments all night "oh, so are you two fucking or what?"

"nope just dating," percy reassures wrapping an arm around you.

he snaps when one of your aunts make a comment about you eating.

"are you sure you wanna eat that y/n? you'll get even more fat."

"shut the fuck up! she has literally eaten nothing all day one fucking cracker isn't going to change that."

he practically drags you out of the house flipping off your family members when the follow you both out.

tears sting at your eyes when you realise how much that meant to you

to cheer you up percy takes you for ice-cream (and you both get double scoops thank you very much) and back home to sally

sally who was warned by percy when you left your house that y/n was in need of some cheering up blue cookies style

you curl up on the couch together and spend the night watching trashy movies and gossiping like teenage girls with sally

percy works up the courage to kiss you the day before you go back to camp on one of your scheduled "date days"

you instantly kiss him back

sally was one hundred percent being told about this from both of you

when you do arrive back percy turns to you and asks why you needed to start fake dating before the holidays

you smile and reveal that you actually didn't need to and you had written it down on your pros and cons list but percy had just started acting boyfriendy

later on that day you realise that somewhere along the way you and percy stopped 'fake dating' and just started acting like yourselves with each other

coincidentally technically 'dating' before you even knew it

a/n pt2: i was so sleep deprived when writing this, so sorry if its crap. i'll be reappearing in a few days after my break (hopefully with two new fics: midnight troubles pt3 and the percy x popstar au)

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for— (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: it's time for some more ✨trauma✨ time to learn ur own backstory tehe <3 feel free to let me know what you think or any future... predictions... you think might be coming...

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: Azriel leaves for Velaris. You reflect on old choices and everything that you lead you to where you are now— and realise it's been awhile since you had anyone to miss. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

—CHAPTER THREE :: COMPANIONS

There's a girl screaming in the middle of camp.

Anguish, a pure guttural agony, litters her voice. She's shrieking, screaming herself hoarse, tortured cries piercing the air as a piece of her identity is ripped from her forcibly. The scream that you know only follows a wing clipping.

Fear rolls through your body, seizing every nerve til your limbs lock up. Your stomach lurches, nausea swimming and threatening to choke up your throat. The screams dive beneath your very skin and make a home there, unbidden.

The screaming isn't stopping and you acutely notice that you're crying because of it, big fat tears rolling down your face as though you're the one in pain, unable to quieten her suffering, because... because...

Because the girl is you.

The girl is you and they had found out somehow and they had come, they had held you down and taken the knife between your wings and starting slicing through muscle and sinew and it fucking hurts, it hurts so much—

A ragged gasp rips from your throat at the slice down your back.

You wake you with a violent twitch.

Your dagger is in your hand in an instant, stored beneath your pillow, always within reach. The cool leather beneath it is a comfort as your senses search blindly for any threat. The rabbiting sound of your heart looms in your ears and you keenly strain your ears to try listen over it.

A threat? An intruder? You're looking for anything hidden in the darkness, while your senses are still swamped by your nightmare. The effects of it are melting away too slowly. Your breath comes too fast.

Shadows loom. You're not sure what is fear is still lingering from the dream and what is real instinct, kicking in to protect yourself.

Worse is, your suspicions are not at all unwarranted.

Around you, the space is still. Dead air trapped within your shelter.

Outside, the howl of the Mother's Kiss sounds again, the rattling wind against the windows somehow grounding you into your home. You're in your home. You're not out in the middle of camp, not held onto that horrid stained piece of earth where all the clippings take place.

You're tucked away in your space, hidden beneath your secret still.

Your chest heaves rapidly, dregs of panic still running through your system. You force yourself to inhale slowly, blinking slowly and letting your eyes adjust to the night. It's still dark.

It's nighttime and you've had a night terror and you're still safe, still just like any other male in the camp.

Behind you, you give your wings a little shiver, just to check.

Still there, still working in every capacity. The relief that pours through you soothes like a balm, heady and overwhelming. You release a shaky breath and curl your knees up to your chest, wings cocooning around yourself.

The nightmares, this nightmare, has been unrelenting for as many years as you can remember. Well, since...

Since twenty six years ago, when you had made a very difficult choice.

Perhaps the only time you'll ever be thankful for being a bastard in this camps is when it had granted you the privacy to make such a choice. Nobody cares if a bastard child dies, male or otherwise.

It had made you dispensable and therefore, unnoticeable.

Nobody noticed when one more begging child, one more hungry face, went missing. And certainly nobody paid any mind when one more turned up again — hair cut down to the scalp, bleeding in places from the shoddy cut, and a gritty determination in their eyes.

No, in fact, the only time people started noticing you was when you started tasting the mixture of blood and dirt, knocked down in a fight you knew you had no chance of winning.

You had started it. Pushed your way into the group of boys and shoved one, hard. Fought back as best you could with half formed fists that quickly got pushed into the mud and held there as the boy you shoved wailed on you, hit after hit after hit.

By the time he had been pulled off you, your mouth was a river of blood and your face ached in a way you had never felt before.

The very bone of your skull felt bruised. Your nose was definitely broken. You wanted to cry but even scrunching your face up hurt too much. It was impossible to think anything beyond pure pain.

The group of boys were sneering as they left you in a crumpled heap on the ground, kicking mud in your direction and hissing the word bastard.

But not one mention of you being anything other than that.

Just a bastard. No slighted comment at being a female, at not being worthy of a fight for that reason.

In the Illyrian Mountains, being a bastard gave you very little in the manner of food, things, and choices. If you managed to survive past childhood, that is.

If you could scrape around for food to fill a belly that never seemed to stop growling and manage not succumb to icy embrace of the winter in the mountains, there was very little waiting for you. Even less so, if you weren't a male.

Males, at the very least, could fight for a sliver of something better.

And wasn't that just the Illyrian way? If you can fight, if you can beat and claw your way to the top, it's worth something. It's the only way to gain respect. To earn it, even when you came from nothing.

For you? Living past childhood would mean getting your greatest love torn from you.

You had seen half a dozen clippings before the age of eight. It was said that other camps littered throughout Illyria tended to be more gracious. Did it in private. Healers on hand. No excessive force.

But you'd believe that when you saw it — clippings were brutal.

Females having experienced their first blood were dragged out into the middle of camp, some kicking and screaming, others a ghostly quiet. Everybody watched and nobody stepped in, no matter the pleas.

You, no older than eight years old, had stared at the bloody patch left on the ground til your vision had blurred. It was crimson, mixing with the dirt of the earth. Beneath it was this horrid scorched brown colour.

Old blood.

The final straw for you had been Adesi— Lord Mylind's own daughter. You're not sure when or why some part of your had become convinced that she might be spared. That because her father held rank and could bend certain rules, that she might escape the fate you so feared for yourself.

She hadn't. Lord Mylind had done the clipping himself.

And she hadn't cried or fussed. There hadn't been a struggle, just this soft weeping as she kept her eyes on the ground, every pained sound that passed her lips lined with a bitter resignation of knowing this was always coming.

It had stoked a simmering ember within you — a furiously upset flame that burned hotter and hotter, til you were trembling with the force of it. Forced to watch yet another girl stripped of her freedom. Polished up for breeding stock.

If Adesi wouldn't be spared, neither would you. The future, you could see, was growing impossibly bleaker and would continue down that path if nothing radical appeared to change its course.

You had cut your hair that same very night.

It was a shit job. Trying to get it as short as you could manage without a mirror or proper tools to do so proved incredibly difficult. The lack of proper shelter didn't help either.

Bandages you were stock-piling for Mother knows what were used to bind your chest. Then you spent the rest of the night time scouring the mountain-side for those bitter herbs on the mere hope that the rumour that they would keep you from bleeding held an inkling of truth.

The next day had been the day you got into your very first fight.

The first of many. Lord Mylind didn't take kindly to bastards, especially when you paled in comparison to the size of the other novices. You had been refused to be allowed to join training the first time you had tried, his cold eyes narrowed with a cruel curl of his upper lip.

But you had, perhaps, what no one else did.

No other way forward. No other choice.

Every part of you that yearned to keep your beautiful wings, to keep your freedom, your autonomy, was channeled into your intense drive. You would not be so easily dissuaded.

You trained day and night, working up weak muscles til they hardened beneath your skin. Without proper training, it was nowhere near as efficient as it could've been. There was no-one there to soothe the aches of your growing pains, nor the sores that came with hitting the ground time and time again as you honed the balance and fluidity of your body.

A season passed. Your drive did not falter— not when half a dozen more females got clipped in that same period. A wedge drove itself between your ribs, attempting to crack open your chest; a heavy guilt at what they experienced... what you could not yet prevent.

It pushed you to train harder than before.

It took seven whole months of solitary training before Lord Mylind reluctantly allowed you to join the ranks— forced to when you disarmed and wiped the floor with Brudam in the ring to prove yourself.

By that time, the list of clipped females had climbed to nearly fifty. You kept track of every single one, forty-eight notches carved into your soul for every person you failed to protect from a terrible fate.

It killed you having to bide your time.

To train alongside the males of the camp who detested you as they did any such bastard. To hear their uncaring jeers of the clippings as they flaunted their own wings proudly. There was no shortage of things to stoke the fire within you, fury burning through every cell in your body. There was no distraction from the ultimate goal.

But between Lord Mylind's abysmal training, geared specifically at you, the purposeful way other warriors wouldn't hesitate to kick you while you were down, and having nobody else in your corner, you had no other choice.

Routines formed. Train. Eat. Train. Scrounge for ingredients, for knowledge, anything on healing tonics. Fail miserably at making anything. Chew the bitter herbs. Train. Sleep. Wake. Train.

Loneliness became a familiar companion.

Every creak in the dark was a potential threat that came looking to see if they could knock the unwelcome bastard out of the ranks. You learned to not just how to duel, but how to brawl and win. To fight dirty. To come out as unscathed as possible.

Your first bleed did eventually come, bitter leaves be damned.

They had done a decent job. They had given you a few crucial years to establish yourself as a worthy fighter, not to be messed with, and enough time to build the shelter you now called home.

It had been a saving grace. If you had been out and exposed, if any of the males in town came sniffing for a fight and felt entitled enough to challenge you, the lie that kept you safe would've come tumbling down like a house of cards.

All those years turned to ash. Wasted. For nothing.

And the only thing that terrified you more than that was... what you were certain they would inflict upon you if they ever found out.

In some of your worst nightmares, they do much worse than just clip you. They take them from you— saw them from your back, splintering bone and tearing muscle, not caring if you cry or scream — not caring if you die.

Around you, your wings give a shiver as if they could feel the ghost of pain that still lurked from your nightmare. You curl them up tighter around you. A blanket of softness, of warmth, finally breaks the chill on your skin.

Routine was easy. Your terror was manageable based on the familiarity of your life. The fact that you had nobody to lean on meant everything, every pillar of comfort, of tough love, of the extra push when you needed it, came from within.

Slipping away from training to deal with the excruciating agony of your cycle was a necessity, even if it pained you to do so. Avoidance of the Blood Rite was born from that too. It was too great a risk— too much time spent that you couldn't ever be sure wouldn't overlap with your cycle.

Besides, you already had the biggest target on your back — the label of bastard giving you more than your fair share of enemies.

They would hunt you down on the first night. That you had no doubt about. The killing would be slow and merciless. To you, the Blood Rite was just another brand of nightmares.

All this dread had become second-nature, stitched into the fabric of your angry and miserable life which seemed to exist against all odds. You were cursed with an ambition that would not let you rest. A compassion that drove you to keep training, to help others more than just yourself.

You were singular. A lone ranger who relied on nothing but your own instincts to keep getting you through the day.

You were solitary. You were lonely.

And yet, within the last month, something else had barrelling into your life and altered its course.

A Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger with hazel eyes that dance with mirth and a rueful smile that comes out far too easily for the battle-hardened soldier you know him to be. He's a conundrum. A mentor and a damn hard-ass when it came to training but also someone you could trust.

Calling him a friend felt too close.

A tenative ally, perhaps. A companion, even.

And the fact you can trust him — the fact that you do trust him — is perhaps the biggest change of them all.

All of your routines have been suddenly altered.

Because now, unlike ever before, there's someone there in the morning. Someone to notice your absences. To come looking when it takes longer to drag yourself out of fitful sleep. To comment on the circles under your eyes and roll back the punches accordingly.

He brings the things you need, a sudden plentiful stash of ingredients you wouldn't have dreamed of affording. The good stuff that makes a difference in the potency of a healing tonic. In turn, your feeble attempts at concocting have begun to produce far more useful results.

He brings food too.

No point in all this training if you look like your bones will snap. He had said, almost dismissively as he summoned the abundance of food from within that pocket in the shadow realm. You had been too startled by that alone to question how much he had brought with him.

A fucking feast. Enough food to last you at least half the year, if you stretched it.

Some withered, bitter part of you had shriveled up when you saw it. Your mouth watered and your stomach ached and yet still, you couldn't help how you snapped at him.

I don't want your pity.

Azriel had leveled you with a stare, his shadows roaming about his shoulders like wisps of smoke. He tilted his head to the side an inch, as if trying to pick apart the reasoning for you being so standoffish.

It's not a handout. It's part of our deal. Like I said, there's no point training you if you're starving all the while.

You bristled as his tone, even if there wasn't a hint of condescension to it. It was strong and sure.

When you still hadn't moved, Azriel had spoken once more. It's okay. To eat. I understand that generosity is not something you are familiar with but not eating will not help any of them. Getting stronger will.

He had spoken as if he knew that exact reservation on your mind — the sheer unfairness of having a platter served up to gorge yourself sick on, when so many others... So many others had nothing.

Eat. Azriel had murmured, turning for the door. He had paused just like he had on that first ever night, one scarred hand on the door. Please.

A particularly loud whirl of the Mother's Kiss outside shakes you from the memory.

You blink hard. Your wings twitch and curl in even closer as you realise you've been looking at the door. Looking at where he had stood all those nights ago.

That conversation had been in the first week of knowing Azriel. Back when you were still so wary it was impossible to not raise your hackles when he came knocking at your door, no matter how friendly he had seemed. Friendly, but not harmless you knew.

It took time to stop being constantly on guard around him. But if your lack of trust and general frostiness bothered Azriel, he never let you know.

And now... now you've known him for nearly a month.

A month of routine with him in it. With sparring in the morning, tiring yet rewarding drills beneath the winter sun, and quiet conversations in the evenings, his hazel eyes competing with the crackling fire with how they set your heart ablaze. A month of companionship.

A month, the first month in years, not spent entirely alone.

In the cool night air, knees pulled to your chest, something tugs at your throat at the knowledge he won't be back in the morning.

Last night, after an evening spent in comfortable company where you finally heard him laugh for the first time ever and nearly melted at the sound, he had told you he would be returning to Velaris.

Temporarily, he added on hastily at the flash of surprise in your eyes.

Business with the High Lord. Reports and assessments to deliver. I's to dot and t's to cross.

He assured you he would be back in a day or two, certainly no more than three. He had left ample food and generous tonic ingredients, with all the assurances to continue practicing during the evening.

With no Azriel, you had no reason to avoid training with the rest of camp.

Maybe that was why this particular nightmare had plagued you tonight. Something curdled up in your gut at the thought of returning to your old routine— another part relishes in how you will get to stand your ground as a better, hardier warrior now. To prove yourself worthy of the specialty training you were receiving.

You huff out a small sigh in the dark.

There's no telling what time it is. You force yourself to sit back, easing back into your bed gently til you're lying back under the makeshift duvet you have. It's moth-eaten and seen better days. You snuggle beneath it anyway.

It's been a long time since you've missed anyone, you think forlornly.

The thought surprises you. Staring at the ceiling, your brows furrow and you close your eyes but the truth of it rings clear throughout your very being. Undeniable.

The Shadowsinger has somehow wiggled into your life, burrowed into your routine and has begun to mean something to you. And when he's gone, you... miss him.

Your eyes flash back open, glaring up at the ceiling, and you huff as if that will change that fact.

Rolling over, you pull the duvet in closer, your arms tucking into your chest snugly. Your bed is a bit too small for someone with wings and they ache because of it. Sleep trickles back into your system, dragging your lids down.

As you fall into sleep, some part of you realises, faintly, that you haven't had anyone to miss in a long, long, time.

This time when you dream, it’s of hazel eyes.

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS]

—

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee @viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13 @bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

[a-killer-obsession]

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3 || Part One

PART 5/6 - TAKE A HIKE (Wire + bonus Heat)

CW: somnophilia, p in v sex, unsafe sex, creampie, public sex, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, choking, spanking, deep throating, face fucking, use of colour consent system, hate fuck, degrading language, fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, aftercare

WC: ~3.5k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin @bbnbhm

You expected the sweltering warmth in the small tent that came with sharing the room with a human radiator like Heat, but what you didn't expect were the wet sloppy sounds of his tongue buried in your pussy as you woke up on your belly. It shouldn't have been a surprise really, you'd both gone to bed naked and if you were him you'd probably want to take a bite out of your juicy ass for breakfast too. Your moans alerted him to the fact that you were awake, but he didn't let up, bringing you to an orgasm that was already almost fully formed before you'd even come too. He ran his arms up and down your thighs, fondling the fat on your ass whenever his hands reached them, greedily lapping up your creamy release.

“Sorry,” he kissed your thighs in apology as he finally let up, “couldn't help myself,” he bit down on the flesh of your ass and you let out a squeak, earning a possessive growl in response.

“Well? You gonna fuck me then, Heat?” You purred, raising your ass a little to give him access. He gave your ass a small playful spank before lining himself up, his knees either side of your legs, sheathing himself with a groan. He pushed your ass back down flat, the extra pressure making him wild as he started to fuck you at a desperate and needy pace, already having been hard and craving for an hour before he'd caved and eaten you out.

“Hnng, so tight,” he moaned, grunting with every thrust he made, the wet sounds of flesh smacking against flesh no doubt audible to anyone who might pass by, or who might be awake next door. You didn't care, you loved being loud, and you moaned shamelessly as he rutted into you, chasing his own release. His long blue hair made a curtain around you, tickling your back as he moved.

“Yes, yes, use me baby,” you moaned, “oh that feels so good, use me like your little cocksleeve”

“Fuck,” he grunted against your shoulder blade, his forehead pressed against you as he penetrated you so fucking deep, his piercings rubbing against your g-spot and making you see stars. “Dirty girl,” he groaned, “gonna- gonna fill you up”

“Breed me, baby,” you purred, every muscle in your body tensing and releasing as his hard thrusts made you cum suddenly with a scream. You clamped down hard on him as you came, and he let out a whine as he unloaded inside you, his massive load dripping out as he made his final thrusts, making sure he painted your walls with every last drop, before finally collapsing against your back.

“So good~” you mumbled in your afterglow haze, “so fucking good~ hnng~”

“You two done? I made breakfast,” Killer called from outside your tent, tapping on the fabric wall. Heat spooked and pulled out, falling backwards off the mattress with a heavy thunk, very nearly taking the whole tent with him as he hit the flexible wall. Killer gave the rounded silhouette against the wall a small kick and laughed, Heat quickly scooting away from it lest he be booted again.

“Oi!” Heat scowled, “don't fuckin’ spook me like that!”

“Cry me a river, lovebird,” Killer laughed, “breakfast is on your table [y/n], for both of you”

“Thanks Kil!” You called back, hearing the gravel crunch underfoot as he headed back to the kitchen building.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Heat mumbled, throwing on his pants and unzipping the tent door to quickly retrieve the plates. You wrapped yourself in a blanket as he came back in, and set up your laptop so you could both watch a movie while you ate, Ipad baby realness.

Heat had stuck around for the remainder of the movie and a little of another until Killer returned to let him know he and Kid were heading to the beach. They invited you as well, but today was your last full day at camp and you wanted to take advantage of the nice weather to go for a hike. Plus, you fucking hated beaches, there was no good way to fuck a stranger on a beach without finding sand in your pussy for the next month. Lunch, water, drawing supplies and a picnic blanket packed in your backpack, you took a quick shower and redressed in a tank top and shorts, along with a sturdy pair of boots, and headed for the trail.

The hike wasn't too difficult, there were a few areas that were near vertical, practically climbing up the embedded stones like the world's least practical staircase, but the rest of the walk was quite pleasant. It was mostly through dense forest, the only sound around you being the native birds calling to each other, and the crunch of dirt under boots. Every now and then the path would veer close to a cliffside, offering an unhindered view of the valley that got better and better the further up you got. At the summit was a small clearing, space enough for a few picnic blankets at a time, and a flat forested area behind that was ideal if you had to take a piss while you were up here. From the clearing you could see all the way to the other side of the valley, to further along where the valley met the ocean, and the small uninhabited islands a little way off the coast.

You were glad for the near constant shade on the way up, but with the sun now high in the sky you set about laying out your blanket and coating yourself in sunscreen. You took a long drink of your water as you sat down, before pulling out your lunch and enjoying the view while you ate. Hunger sated, you pulled out your art supplies and doodled.

You must have been up at the summit for maybe half an hour when soft footfalls on dirt alerted you to the approach of another hiker. You turned and smiled to yourself as you saw Wire coming up the trail, though he hadn't seen you yet, his eyes focused on the uneven ground under his feet. You turned back to your drawing pad as you waited for him to finish his ascent, hearing the indignant huff behind you as he noticed you sitting there.

“Ah, Wire, step into my office,” you patted the blanket next to you.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Sour puss,” you snorted. There was a long silence as he just stood behind you, admiring the view, before turning his gaze down at you curiously.

“What are you drawing?” He finally relented. You lifted your sketchpad for him to see the, in your opinion very tasteful, drawing of Heat's pierced dick. “For Christ's sake” he scowled, he wished he didn't recognize the drawing so clearly.

You giggled as you brought the sketchpad back down, closing it and setting it back in your bag. You laid back on the blanket, enjoying the sun on your midriff and legs, your arms folded under your head and your eyes closed. Wire's eyes scanned down your body before letting out a huff and sitting cross legged beside you.

“Finally decided to allow my company, have you?” You smirked, your eyes were still closed but you could feel the shift in the air and hear his clothes moved as he sat.

“Whatever,” he grunted, “just trying to enjoy the view. Don't get any ideas, slut, I'm not fucking you just cos the others all have”

“I wear that title with pride thank you very much,” you replied, “besides, given how good your friends are, I seriously doubt you could do any better, so why would I bother?”

“Take a fucking hike, slut,” he growled.

“I already did, how do you think I got here?” You snorted, “asshole”

Before you could register what was happening his hand was on your throat, not choking, but certainly adding enough force to be threatening. You weren't scared of him though, you knew he was just worked up. In truth he probably needed to get laid, badly. Maybe then he'd fucking relax.

“You're gonna have to do it harder than that if you wanna kill me,” you smirked, “unless you're just trying to play the dominant? Is that what you want, big boy? You wanna throw me around, show me who's boss?”

“Yes,” he growled, “fucking brat”

“Then do it,” you spat directly in his face, your pussy already slick with the promise of a rough hate fuck. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked at you. His expression read as boredom, but his pupils were blown out with lust.

“You know the colour system?” He said, holding your throat a little tighter while his other hand yanked your tank top up enough to free a breast and grope it hard.

“Yes sir,” you smirked, “do your fucking worst”

In a flash he had you up on your feet, dragging you easily, one hand still on your throat, the other under your ass to support your weight so he wouldn't actually choke you. He dropped you next to a tree, spinning you to face it and pulling your shorts and panties to your ankles without even bothering with the fly. His large hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, before he pulled your hips away from the tree, forcing you to support your weight against the bark as you bent over. He lifted his hand and brought it down fast, the reverb of his harsh smack on your ass echoing in the surrounding trees. You choked out a moan, silk dripping down your inner thighs.

“Stupid fucking slut, think you know better than everyone,” smack, “going around fucking whoever you please,” smack, “disgusting little whore who needs to be taught a lesson about respect,” smack, smack, smack. “Colour?”

“Green,” you moaned. A particularly harsh spank came down on your ass and you whimpered. “Green, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Maybe the slut does know a thing or two about respect,” he hummed, admiring how red and inflamed your ass was, a clear handprint on your supple flesh. “Too bad about that ruined pussy though, it's probably stretched beyond repair, gonna have to use you ass instead if I wanna feel anything”

“Why, you got a tiny cock?” You smirked. SMACK. You let out a strange combination of a pained whine and a moan at the particularly hard hit.

“Why don't you see for yourself, brat,” he grabbed you by your hair and forced you to your knees, your hands on his thighs for support and your ass cheeks throbbing as you looked up at him with half lidded eyes. He unzipped his shorts and pulled them down along with his briefs, his heavy cock springing out and smacking your face deliberately. You let out an audible gasp, you didn't think it was possible to find a man bigger than Heat but jesus fucking christ, this man was a fucking monster. He smirked proudly at the clear surprise on your face.

“I- I don't know if I can take that,’ you stuttered.

“You can, and you will,” he assured you, that same bored expression back as he wiped the head of his cock against your mouth, “now open up, slut, I wanna hear you fucking choke on it”

He was at least polite in the way he let you adjust to his size instead of shoving it all straight in, controlling your head with a hand in your hair while his other hand jerked off what you couldn't reach. You couldn't possibly reach the base, gagging as his tip hit the back of your throat, nowhere near taking his full length. As soon as your throat relaxed and the gagging calmed, breathing out your nose to settle yourself, he pulled your hair tight to hold you still and started fucking your mouth. His other hand wrapped around your neck, pressing just hard enough to feel the way it buldged as he throat fucked you. He made quiet grunts as he thrusted, your eyes watering from the gag but you were determined to not show weakness.

“Maybe that slut throat is good for something after all,” he grunted, “first I'm gonna making you gag on my cum, then I'm gonna pound that pretty little ass of yours”

You moaned around his cock, one hand running down between your legs to touch yourself, while the other held his thigh for support.

“Good cocksleeve,” he groaned, “gonna fill you up in a second, gonna feed you so good. Take my load you stupid slut”

He stilled with his cock deep down your throat, gagging and choking around him while he hit the back of your head with a flat palm to force you deeper, your nose buried in his dark pubes as rope after rope of hot cum poured directly down your throat. He let you go finally and you took a heavy breath, his thumb forcing your mouth open so he could make sure you swallowed, admiring the wet streaks from strained tears on your cheeks, before slapping your face with a pleased hum.

“Look at you, finally good for something,” he smirked, “go get on the blanket with your ass in the air, I'm not done with you yet”

You struggled to stand for a moment, Wire helping you to your feet as you wobbled. “Colour?” He asked with a little concern.

“Green, sir,” you smiled coyly, making your way to the blanket and looking back at him as you bent over and used your hands to spread your ass cheeks, an invitation, or perhaps a challenge. He made a growl as he knelt down behind you, running his hand through your folds and earning a needy whine.

“Fuck, so fucking wet,” he rubbed your soaking clit before putting a finger inside you, followed quickly by a second. “You really loved choking on my cock huh?” His thumb toyed with your asshole as he fingered your pussy, adding a third finger in your eager cunt and suddenly starting a brutal pace without warning, his thumb sinking inside your ass while you were distracted. You let out shrill whines as he finger fucked you, switching his thumb to his index finger as you loosened enough to fully take it to the base. He spat on your ass and let the fluid drip to your hole, lubricating it as he added a second. All of a sudden you clamped down around him, screaming and clawing at the blanket, squirting hard with a splash and soaking the blanket underneath you. He didn't let up for a second, scooping some of the slick release from your folds and pushing it into your asshole, forcing in a third finger.

You whined at the stretch, but he worked patiently at loosening you enough to take him, spitting again every now and then to lubricate, his other hand alternating between finger fucking and rubbing your clit as a distraction till he managed a forth finger in. He wouldn't fuck you till he could get that forth to the knuckle, he was a rough dominant but he wouldn't hurt you needlessly. Your second orgasm came with a little more warning, Wire cooing praises about how well you were doing as you shook and creamed on his fingers, the afterglow finally allowing you to relax enough to where he was sure you could take him.

“There's a good girl,” he cooed, withdrawing his digits from both holes, making you whine as he left you empty. “Hush now, I'm gonna fill you right back up. You clean girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, “got- got checked last week,” you panted, “sir,” you quickly tacked on to the end.

“Good girl,” he praised, making you preen as the head of his thick cock pressed against your ass, “colour?”

“Green, sir,” you whined, “fuck me Wire, please”

His cock slid inside you slowly, still a stretch despite his preparations, and he groaned lowly as you took him inch by inch. He didn't force himself all the way in, but he was deep enough that it felt good for both of you, spitting again almost for good luck as he started to pump in and out of you.

“Good girl, I won't take long,” he promised, “you're so tight and hot, I'm gonna fill you real soon”

“Please,” you moaned, too fucked out to think of anything else but the pull of his cock in your ass, and how utterly dirty it felt to be letting a stranger do this out in the open air. Whenever you had the strength to open your eyes, you could see the campsite below, the red ute now returned, you wondered if the others could see you getting plowed from down there, or hear your deep moans. Wire held your hips tight, fucking you at a languid pace, wary of hurting you if he lost himself and went too hard. He only increased his pace bit by bit as you relaxed, watching how your hands went from clutching at the blankets to more relaxed, your head pressed to the side as you panted and moaned underneath him.

“Good girl, doing so good,” he grunted, and he could feel you contract around him at his praises, “you gonna cum from this? Fuck, such a good girl”

You whined as he increased his speed a little, your thighs shaking as his movement forced a weak orgasm from you, too worn to do any more, your legs barely able to keep you upright any longer, entirely relying on his firm hold on your hips. Your eyes were closed, your forehead dripping with sweat, your mouth stuck in a goofy looking smile.

“Just one more second, you're doing so good,” Wire groaned, speeding up one final time as his movements became erratic and desperate, his cock throbbing inside your tight ass, “oh fuck, fuckkk, there it is, take my cum sweetheart”

He let out a long groan and stilled as his seed pooled inside you, making sure you took every drop before he pulled away to admire your gaping asshole. “Push it out for me baby,” he purred, his hands holding your cheeks apart. You willed the muscles in your ass to move with the very last of your strength, feeling his cum dripping down your pussy before finally collapsing against the blanket.

“Good girl [y/n],” he cooed, rubbing your back in soothing circles, “you did so good. Just rest now”

He let you catch your breath before offering you his water, helping you sit up. He held you up till you were able to support yourself, then he gathered your discarded shorts and helped you slip them back on. Scooping you up bridal style he moved you to rest against a tree, forcing an opened muesli bar into your hand, shaking the dirt from your blanket and putting your things neatly in your bag while you ate. When everything was put away and you were done eating, he knelt down in front of you, his back to you.

“Climb on, I'll carry you down,” he offered.

“You don't gotta do that,” you yawned.

“Come on, you're exhausted,” he replied, “I was pretty rough on you”

You finally relented and clamboured onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held your thighs and stood. God he was so fucking tall, what was this, a fucking fairground ride? It was a good thing you weren't afraid of heights. He dipped to loop the straps of your backpack over his arm before starting back down the trail, and you yawned sleepily as your head rested against his broad back and his soft hoodie.

“Have a nap, I've got you,” he suggested. All he got was a bleary mmm in reply before you were out for the count, the quiet rhythmic bouncing of his steps acting like a gentle rocking and putting you right to sleep in your post sex haze.

[NEXT PART]

[kneelingshadowsalome]

As a history and Mythological lover, I love your works, they are so addictive, and you write so well, and the Minotaur konig fic was such a pleasure to read. I remember when you first uploaded the Roman konig story and I was so ecstatic about it, I remember checking on my break at work, If you’d uploaded another part haha, I mean I still check tumblr on my breaks to see who had uploaded so I know what I can read after I get home lol.

I think you’ve found your niche!

Also if you don’t mind answering what other time periods you’d think konig would fit in? Victorian era?

Nasty, oily and covered in coal, konig is walking home through the streets and bumped into a clean wealthy beautiful young woman, ooh do I love forbidden romances, just like your nun fic lol.

Ahh thank you! Mythology, fairytales and historical au’s are a passion of mine 😭

And puh-leeze, a forbidden romance between a dirty worker and a rich uptown girl? Filthy coal miner König who bumps into this fancy lady dressed in white? How can he ever make up for his clumsiness?? Please don’t have him beaten like the poor bastard he is, he already fucked up today by accidentally destroying boss’s new machinery by showing off his strength...

Tries to steal a peek at her ankles, and under her dress while dusting off her skirts with some napkin that’s hardly much cleaner than his hands. And she’s just giggling at him – great, now he’s hard... How is he going to explain this when he rises from here?? (Rich lady also being protected at all costs from dirty dogs like him! He's soon panting at her door!)

As for other historical au’s and fairytales... >:)

CW: Fear of SA (historical au), wife stealing (yandere fairytale imagine)

Obviously I see König as this dark knight of the Teutonic Order, punishing pagans with his sword somewhere in the wild woods of old Europe. How about another forbidden romance between a cold-hearted crusader & a cute pagan girl who lives in the woods and worships the old gods?

She gets captured during some awful raid, and is pulled into the camp by her hair, angry tears streaming down her face. The soldiers tie her to a thick wooden cross and leave her in the rain, probably to have their way with her later, taking turns with her after they've gambled and had a drink. Then this dark, giant knight happens to walk by, not a regular foot soldier but an actual knight with armor as black as night. She remembers him from the battlefield, wielding a fat morningstar, splitting people’s skulls from atop the huge black destrier he rode...

A terrible beast, dark and silent and big, the rain batters his helmet as he takes one look at the shivering maiden on the cross, her white linen dress glued to her skin in the downpour, and stops.

The soldiers have a crude sense of humour and what’s arousing, but he has seen worse… The knights of the Holy Order are even more perverted when it comes to having “fun” with women. But something pierces his defense when seeing the frightened stare of this pagan girl, her weak body trembling on the cross, the wide dark nipples perked up from cold. He’s seen so much death, his soul is drenched in blood by this point, but somehow, this woman who hasn’t even been broken in is the last straw.

Ends up taking her down, and she attaches herself to him like he’s her saviour, even the cold black armor apparently warmer to her skin than the cold rain. The cruelest of knights feels a moment of pity for this girl and sets her free, pushes her to the woods and waves his hand in a gesture of Get the hell out of here while you still can. (=gtfo before I get hard enough to take you in the mud...)

Months later, she finds him bleeding to death under a tree after a battle. All the other soldiers are screaming and crying for their mothers, but this one is silent, eyes darkening when he recognizes her. He says something, already delusional, and she can’t help but kneel and offer him water…

(and from this point on it would go somewhere in @wordstome s Kosovo maiden territory, perhaps slightly darker? But you get the point!)

And then there’s this old Inuit story that always reminds me of König, it has many variations but it’s basically about this lonely hunter who gets a little too resentful for not having a wife yet. Goes to paddle his boat in these moonlit waters and sees a bunch of maidens dancing in the moonlight on a small little island, notices their seal skins on the ground, and because he’s lonely and in despair, he steals one of them.

One by one, the maidens put their seal skins on and rush back into the water, but one woman can’t find her seal skin no matter how hard she looks for it. The hunter emerges, holding her beautiful skin, saying he’ll give it back to her if she comes to live as his wife for 7 years. She has no other choice but to say yes, and for a while they live happily, they even have a son, but then the seal woman starts to miss her seal skin and the sea...

It’s a tragic tale and the hunter won’t let her leave even if she cries so this would make a wonderful yandere scenario, you could always make a twist and write the woman as some other animal, a deer perhaps, and König as this lonely brooding hunter of the Austrian mountains :)