#hes on a whole nother fucking level man

[sophiethewitch1]

i genuinely love writing for damian he is such a piece of shit <3 <3

[seiwas]

@soumies

something’s got to give ; john price

pairing john price x f!reader  word count 2.9k  synopsis a relationship bound to fail from the start. content contains creampie, slight breeding kink, age gap (reader is ~21/price is mid30s), slight angst, hurt/no comfort

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[janiehellion]

Falling Deep

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon was a quiet but curious young man—shy, inexperienced, and way more innocent than you’d expect. It was just you, him, and... a vibrator.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: VIRGIN!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL FIXATION / CUNNILINGUS / SEX TOYS / DRUGS & ALCOHOL / NON-CON ELEMENTS

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.925

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: PRE-APOCALYPSE—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @dixongrimesgirl

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for your patience! I know it’s been a long wait, and I can only hope it was worth it. This might not be exactly what you had in mind when you sent in the request, but I hope you enjoy it.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

The Chattahoochee was a whole different level of disgusting, even for a bar so close to the deep woods of Georgia. Low ceilings, broken lights, and the smell of piss and beer were present in every corner. Regulars stumbled in every night and day, a lot of them already drunk or high, but most of them?

Both.

It was the kind of place that was sticky no matter how much bleach you poured on it and where you could smell the bad life decisions coming from a mile away.

You worked behind the bar, pouring shots of moonshine and avoiding the greedy touches of men like it was just another part of the job. Which, in a place like this, it practically was. Located in the heart of the most godforsaken area of Georgia, it was the perfect place for the kind of people you’d rather not run into at any time.

Safe to say, Merle Dixon had been hitting on you since day one, coming at you with even worse pickup lines while high on who knows what. He'd lean over the counter, smirking, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. "Hey, sugar tits, gimme 'nother," he’d laugh, putting a half-torn dollar on the bar like it was supposed to impress you.

"Watch the damn language, Dixon, or that’ll be your last drink for tonight," you’d answer, not even looking up as you poured him another shot.

"Hey, c'mon now," he’d answer you, "don't be like that. Ya know ya wanna gimme a shot at somethin’ else, don't ya?" He'd grin further, which seemed more lustful than charming, his eyes staring at your tits like they belonged there at all times.

You'd roll your eyes and shove the glass across the bar with a little more force than necessary. "In your damn dreams, Dixon. And keep your damn eyes up here, or I’m gonna rip ‘em outta your damn skull," you’d warn, but not entirely without sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time he behaved like that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Then there was Daryl, his little brother, always standing or sitting nearby, almost like a shadow, or rather, like someone who didn't belong in a place like that. He wasn’t the type to come up and throw a pickup line at you; hell, he barely spoke at all. Just stood back while Merle tried to flirt with you, as if he was embarrassed to even be there.

You’d catch Daryl looking at you with these sideways glances, his arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for whatever bullshit his brother might do next. Or maybe he was scared, and he just had no clue what to do with a girl who would throw a bottle at someone's head and talk filthier than any man in the bar.

One night, Merle was high on meth that had his pupils blown wide, and he was drunk as always. "Y'know, darlin'," he slurred, leaning far over the bar, "I could make your night real fuckin' interestin’. Got a little somethin' else with me that’ll loosen ya up for some fun." He took out a tiny baggie—powder—white and unmistakable.

"Fuck off, Merle," you said with a smirk. "Go snort that shit somewhere else, where I don’t have to watch your annoying ass. Ain't your damn babysitter." You were used to it, but he was starting to piss you off more than usual. "And don’t even think about offering it to anyone else inside this hellhole. Last thing I need is you getting the whole damn bar high. Do that outside, with those who are probably shitting all over themselves right now."

Meanwhile, Daryl was sitting on a stool nearby, again, his eyes looking from you to his brother. You couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked, the way he watched Merle and every other person around. There was always something different about him—he was quieter, more... soft. The kind of guy who stood back and kept his head down.

"Leave 'er 'lone, Merle," Daryl mumbled, more to himself than to his brother. But he seemed to be sick of the whole scene. Not that Merle ever listened, or would ever listen to him.

No, Merle just rolled his eyes before shoving the baggie back into his pocket, not even looking in the direction of his brother, keeping his focus only on you... and your tits. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just tryin’ to show ya a good time for once." He grabbed his drink and stumbled off, probably to piss in a bush outside, and you were left with Daryl, who still just sat there.

Some time later, you grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping the bar down, side-eyeing him. "You gonna say somethin’, or just keep sittin' there?" You teased, soon throwing the rag under the counter and pouring him another drink.

He shrugged, looking away, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "Ain’t like I could stop him if he tried anythin’," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

"If he tried, he'd go home without his dick. Not that it'd make much of a difference for him," you said back, smirking at him and trying to get him to loosen up a bit. "You come here just to watch me shut him down every night?"

It was a half-serious question, but you knew the answer. Daryl wasn’t like the other assholes—he didn’t hit on you, didn’t try to grab your ass or tits when you passed by, and never once called you some stupid nickname like sugar tits.

"I… jus' end up 'ere," he said awkwardly, his fingers tapping down on the counter. "Ain’t got much else to do."

"Well, at least you’re not tryin’ to snort coke off my tits or ass," you answered, making him go red in the face.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and you couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

"You know, since you come here enough, Dixon 2.0," you continued, "might as well help me close up sometime and throw the rest of these assholes outta here. Would get you a drink on the house."

It was just a passing suggestion, a simple idea, but his eyes looked up, like he was considering it, and for once, he actually looked into yours. Not in that drooling, perverted way his older brother did, but with curiosity. "Maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dunno."

"You know what? Just think about it."

And so, the routine went on. Merle would walk in, and Daryl would sit nearby, quietly sipping his own drink while keeping an eye on his brother. And secretly, on you.

Tonight, though? Tonight was different. Somehow, you’d gotten him here, in your home, alone, without Merle, who was probably stinking of booze and piss all over again somewhere. His brother must have gotten his hands on something strong, or whatever it was, it gave you the perfect excuse.

You’d leaned in close while Daryl was mumbling about his brother and told him he should come over; maybe help you with something, and you told him it was important. You hadn’t even needed to lie all that much—he’d just nodded, eyes wide and nervous, and here he was, following you home like a little boy.

When he got to your place, he just stood there, all tense, and moving from one foot to the other like he didn’t know where to put himself. And you—well, you liked watching him squirm and being nervous, knowing well you were the one making him feel like that.

Daryl wasn’t even in the door for five seconds before you threw your bag on the floor, walking inside without saying anything else. No pretenses, no "make yourself at home." You didn’t bother with shit like that. If he was here, he was here on your terms, and you weren’t about to treat him like a guest.

"C’mon in," you said, standing next to the door to finally close it.

You saw him gulp, eyes looking around like he was searching for a quick exit he could use just in case, but finding nothing but trouble. So he nodded, stepping in, his shoulders hunched as he stood there, awkward as hell. Every inch of him screamed that he was nervous, but he didn’t run, not yet. You liked that about him. Quiet, sure, but still stubborn.

Meanwhile, your place was kind of a mess, clothes lying around, bottles on the tables—some empty, some half-full. A few were left over from last week, but hell, you weren’t cleaning for anybody, especially not for him. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, he looked like he was trying hard not to stare around too much, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his face all red once more, while you kicked off those awful heels that made your feet ache.

"Go on and sit down in my room," you said over your shoulder as you turned around, smirking as you heard his quiet huff. "I'm gonna get outta these damn clothes and put on something more comfortable."

"'Kay," he muttered and nodded again, sounding like he’d swallowed his own tongue.

Once in the bathroom, you pulled off the way too tight top and short skirt in the bathroom, letting yourself breathe for once. That outfit was a real curse; your bra always felt as if it was pushing your tits all the way up to your chin, but it kept the tips flowing, so you kept wearing those clothes.

But tonight? You’d rather die than let Daryl see you in it for too long. Poor boy was already chewing the inside of his mouth and choking on his own words like he might say the wrong thing and die on the spot.

But what you didn't know was that the second you went away to change your clothes, Daryl’s hands started twitching, like his body was on alert between curiosity and unease. A few of your clothes were tossed across the bed, smelling like that bar you worked at—smoke, sweat, and alcohol. It all felt like a place he shouldn’t be at, but here he was, sitting down on your bed and touching your clothes to shove them aside.

He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just trying to figure you out as he sat there nervously. Hell, you were already a mystery to him—a tough girl working in a bar where skirts and shorts barely covered what they ought to and heels high enough to bring any man to his knees.

So here he was, and his mind started running wild, wondering if every woman’s place was like this—half-dirty, with clothes tossed around, magazines piled up, and so much more.

Then his eyes landed on a big box sitting half-shoved under your bed, an open corner poking out like it had been forgotten as his foot bumped against it. He should’ve left it alone, but there was that itch, like he couldn’t look away. Daryl crouched down, sitting down on the floor, his fingers fumbling with the top until it opened up. His eyes went wide, lips parting as he looked inside.

It was filled with... things. Smooth, soft, strange-looking things in different shapes and colors, each one making him more confused than the last.

"What's this stuff?" He whispered, eyes squinting as he picked up a small pink thing with a rounded end. It fit in his hand, smooth but with some weight to it. "This for her... work?" He mumbled, rolling it over in his hand like it might magically turn into something he recognized. Maybe it was a tool, or even one of those weird bar gadgets he didn’t know about.

Another catch of something sparkly and soft shoved down in there made his heart beat faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling out more—the things looking weirder by the second. There was a wand-looking thing, and he held it like it might explode, wondering what the hell you were doing with all this.

"Drugs? Gotta be for drugs," he muttered, frowning as he inspected the box. Could be some kind of injector, maybe? He knew about that stuff—the guys that Merle met sometimes, passing around different things for the good times. But nothing here made sense, and there wasn't any instruction manual in sight.

He looked around like you’d come back any second and catch him, heat burning inside of him as he thought about what this meant. Were you hiding something? Was it… Was it for some kind of secret thing you did when no one was around?

"Damn it, what’re ya up to?" He said, biting his lip, his hand brushing over the surface of the smooth, strange thing, feeling his pulse race at the thought that you did know exactly what these were for.

And yet he didn’t. Not a damn clue.

"Hell’s this?"

He felt a cord between his fingers, pulling it slightly, as if tugging on it might magically make it make sense. Maybe it was for listening to music? But it had no sound, and no little earbuds or anything that he could see.

Setting that one down, he picked up another—an oblong thing with ridges along one side. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there was nowhere for the light to shine from. He pressed his thumb over it, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened.

"What the hell?" It had to be for something specific. You wouldn’t just have random stuff lying around like this for no reason, would you?

Then he found another, rounder one, with a strange little button on the side. He pressed it, flinching a bit when it buzzed all of a sudden. The damn thing nearly jumped out of his hand, and he held it tight to stop the vibrations.

"Damn thing’s possessed," he nearly yelled, feeling his cheeks burn. It felt... weird. Too weird.

And you? You had barely slipped into the bathroom, taking off your work clothes and enjoying the idea of how Daryl would squirm alone for a moment in your bedroom. The way he’d stumbled his way in earlier, not wanting to make eye contact like he didn’t know what to do with his own hands? It was almost way too easy to tease him.

And there he was, practically glowing red, sitting next to the box you kept under the bed. A simple big box—hell, he was behaving so cautiously, like he’d just discovered a bomb or a dead body. But what really caught you was the thing in his hand. A vibrator.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. His head moved up, eyes wide as if he’d just been caught robbing a bank.

"Shit!" The vibrator fell out of his hand, hitting the floor, but that was only the start; the thing started buzzing further—vibrating across the floor and right toward your feet. Daryl didn’t move; he didn’t even reach for it. He just sat there, staring at the buzzing vibrator like it was going to bite him.

"Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ with my stuff?" You asked, half-amused, half-teasing, waiting to see what half-assed excuse he’d come up with, as you leaned against the door frame. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out at first.

"I… uh—" he stammered, swallowing loudly, his hands fidgeting like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. "I thought… I mean—thought it was, like, stuff for..." His voice trailed off, eyes looking to the ground, too ashamed to meet yours.

"Yeah? Stuff for what?" You pressed further, stepping forward, taking the vibrator and turning it off, stopping the noise but not the look of pure mortification on his face.

"I… thought it might be, y'know... Maybe it was, uh, y���know, things for... for bar stuff, or somethin’. Yer work." His voice was quiet, like he might get in trouble just for saying it out loud.

"For work?" You laughed and crouched down to sit next to him. "Yeah, Daryl, because every bartender needs a vibrator in her kit. So… You wanna tell me why you’re snooping, or am I just supposed to guess?"

You reached over, brushing a hand along the edge of your toy box, taking in the way his eyes tried to look at each item inside. Poor boy had no clue what half of it was for, but he looked at everything like it might burn him.

"Am sorry! I wasn’t… Jus'… waitin’ on ya an' got curious, I guess," he murmured. "Didn’t mean nothin’ by it."

You leaned in closer, enough that he could probably feel your breath on his face. "Curious, huh?" You asked, eyeing the way his shoulders tensed up. "You don't know what that stuff is?"

"Uh…" He blinked, looking between you and the vibrator like it might suddenly start buzzing again. "Not… really. No."

"Oh, you really don’t?" You pretended to be surprised. "It’s a toy, Dixon. A fun toy. For women. And men sometimes as well."

"That for real?" He asked, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

"As real as it gets, sweetheart. And judging by that look on your face, I’d bet you don’t have much experience with this sorta things." You raised an eyebrow, daring him to admit it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "Ain’t never… really..." He trailed off, his whole face full of embarrassment.

"Never what?" You asked, leaning in so close you could smell the cigarettes and sweat on him, and somehow, it drove you wild. "Fucked a woman? Or even fucked yourself, huh?"

"I—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, a sound that told you everything you needed to know. "I don’t… don’t really know… how… t'do any of that."

"Oh, honey." You leaned back a little. "You look like you’re about ready to pass out."

Daryl trembled, trying to look anywhere but at you, his whole face burning. "I—I jus'… I dunno what to do with... all that," he continued, motioning awkwardly toward the box.

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Guess no one’s shown you how a woman uses one of these before, huh?" You watched his reaction, loving every little deep breath he took and every embarrassed flinch.

"N-no… But what if... maybe they could've been... for, uh, drugs?" His face somehow went even more red, and he looked ready to sink into the floor.

"Drugs? What, you think I’m hiding some kind of dealer setup in my own bedroom? And especially right under my damn bed?" You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Trust me, they’ll get you high, alright—but not the way you’re thinkin’."

The embarrassment on his face was almost painful to watch as he shifted on the ground. "Like I said, I—I don't... Ain’t never done stuff like that before, okay? I—I mean, I done that with myself... sometimes. But not really... okay?"

You smiled, letting your fingers move over his, watching as his breath stopped, his eyes looking up to meet yours for a desperate second. "Well," you murmured, "maybe I could show you a thing or two. If you’re up for it, that is."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he glanced between you and the box again. He indeed looked like he was about to pass out, but he seemed curious—curious in a way that he couldn’t quite hide.

"Oh, c'mon, I know you want to," you whispered, clicking your tongue, standing up, and taking off your shirt slowly. His eyes looked up fast, staring at you, and he shifted on the spot, pressing his thighs together. That’s when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants—it was more than obvious he was already hard as a rock.

"Damn, Dixon," you chuckled, "you’ve got a real problem, don’t you?" You let your shirt fall down to the floor. "Hey, don’t just sit there looking lost—c’mon, no way you're that scared of undressing a woman!"

He stammered something, some half-strangled "n-no," his hands gripping his own thighs like he had to hold himself back from reaching for you. That only spurred you on, raising your brows as you grabbed him to stand up and guiding his trembling hands to the hem of your pants.

"Well, here’s your chance," you smirked, waiting for him to open the button. You watched his fingers fumble with it, shaking as he pulled down the zipper, and then, when he managed to pull your pants down over your hips along with your panties, his eyes widened like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

"Keep goin’, don't be shy," you whispered, guiding his fingers down your thighs until your clothes hit the floor.

He just stood there, staring, mouth opening like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next. You leaned in close, eyes locked on his, before you knelt down again and took the vibrator out of the box once more, pressing the button and letting it hum.

His eyes shot to the toy, watching with pure terror and fascination, and when you pressed it into his hand again, he held it like some foreign, sacred object he was too scared to break.

"Here," you mumbled, laying down onto the bed, legs spread just enough to give him a view he couldn’t tear himself away from even if he tried, before you pulled him next to you and guided his hand between your legs, pressing the vibrator to your thigh and dragging it higher. "Just like that, Daryl. Feels interesting, doesn’t it?"

Daryl could barely breathe, staring down as if hypnotized, the muscles in his whole body tensing up. When you moved his hand to press the vibrator against your pussy, you felt him stiffen, his other hand gripping his thigh to stop himself from trembling. The toy was vibrating against you, and you let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, glancing up just in time to see the way his eyes stayed on you, watching every little twitch and shiver of your body.

"I bet you’re a quick learner," you teased, reaching down to guide his hand again, moving it with the toy so it hit just right, and damn, if it didn’t feel good. His mouth fell open a little, and he sucked in a breath when you suddenly moaned, pressing yourself harder against the vibrator. His hand moved a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to be touching you this way, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to keep going more than anything.

You let out another moan, a little louder this time, just to see the way he reacted. His grip on the toy tightened, and you didn’t miss the way he was fighting with himself, clearly struggling to keep himself in check as his cock pressed harder against his pants, his breath coming out faster and shorter.

"Poor thing," you whispered, pulling his hand away for a moment, just to watch him struggle. "Bet you’ve never been this hard, huh?" Daryl's eyes looked at you, wide and mortified, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But the look he gave you—so desperate, so needy—only made you want to push him further.

"You wanna see what this thing can do to me?" You asked, not giving him time to answer as you pressed the vibrator into his hand again and guided it back between your legs. "Just keep it steady, like that. Right there." You rocked your hips against it, letting out a shaky breath as the lust built itself up inside of you, still watching as he clung to every little sound that left your lips.

Daryl's eyes were glued to you, his mouth open, and you noticed the way he kept moving his hips, trying to get rid of his hard-on. But no matter how much he squirmed, it wasn’t enough. He was near leaking through his pants by now, his cock being so hard he couldn’t think straight, and the sight of you practically coming undone in front of him had him on the edge himself.

"Feels good, doesn’t it, Dixon? But... don't you want to feel that too?" You taunted, moving your fingers along his wrist, pushing him to press harder and the toy just a tiny bit into you, wanting to let him feel every little tremor that wracked your body. He just nodded, lost for words, breathing hard, his eyes moving between your face and the way your hips bucked against his hand.

"Keep going, just like that," you urged, and he obeyed, pressing the vibrator a little harder, his other hand softly brushing against your thigh as if he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from falling apart. His face was so close now, so flushed, eyes wide with need, lips parted as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"Y’know, Daryl," you moaned, "you’re doing a hell of a job for someone who’s never touched a woman before, not even with toys." His face burned, but he kept going, kept pressing that toy against your pussy, completely mesmerized by the way you reacted.

"You like watching me, don’t you?" You murmured, letting out another moan that left him swallowing hard. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed... that you can’t keep your eyes off me and how damn hard you are."

He tried to come up with a response, something about "I... I didn’t mean to..." but his words trailed off, and he was just there, helpless, utterly at your mercy, his hand tightening on the toy as you let out one last moan that left him breathless and staring, before you snatched the vibrator from him and clicked it off.

The little tremor it left in his hand was nothing compared to the way he stared at you now, still holding onto that last bit of control.

"Think you can do it without help?" You asked, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to your pussy and to make him feel how wet you were, his fingers twitching as they moved along your folds. Daryl nodded but was holding on for dear life and trying not to slip.

"I... I dunno," he mumbled, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Oh, for the love of... here," you growled, placing your hand over his, guiding his touch lower, rougher, until you dragged his fingers exactly where you wanted them. But Daryl was a mess, barely holding himself together, his other hand still clamped over that hard bulge in his pants as he lay there beside you.

"Now, watch closely," you instructed, pressing his fingers just the way you liked it. "Doesn’t take much, does it?" You smiled, letting your free hand move down his chest, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "Bet you’d come just feeling me touch you."

He whimpered, the outline of his cock pulsing through his pants, a wet spot already forming itself. It didn’t take much to notice the hesitation in his every move, making him so easy to toy with.

You leaned back a little, pushing your tits forward. "Go on and position yourself over me," you dared, and as soon as he did, you lifted his other hand from his bulge to your tits, watching as he sucked in a breath, his hand shaking as if he were holding something he had no right to touch. "Ever felt these before?"

Daryl shook his head, still wide-eyed, his eyes looking into yours for a second before dropping back down, like he was afraid to look too long.

"Then make the most of it." You reached down, pressing his other hand harder against you. "I want you to use that mouth of yours now," you smirked, pushing him down to press his lips against your nipples. His breath was warm and shaky, and he hesitated, his mouth just an inch away from you. You raised an eyebrow, daring him, and after a long, deep breath, he finally leaned in.

"That's a good boy," you praised, your fingers running through his hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. He was so damn easy to play with, each little whimper and moan only turning you on more, urging him to suck and lick, his tongue slow but eager, desperate for more.

"Gently," you ordered, glancing down to see him lose himself, his hands now touching you like he didn’t want to let go. The poor guy was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucked and kissed your nipple, as if the sight alone would push him over the edge.

You soon moved your hand down, feeling the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling him flinch, his breath stopping as you gave him just a bit of what he wanted. "This what you want, Daryl?" You whispered, teasing him and squeezing his shaft just enough to make him groan, his hips bucking, desperate for more. "You do, don't you? But now, I want you to eat me out."

Daryl couldn’t even get out a response, his mouth still on your nipple, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

"Pathetic, but also really cute," you laughed, unzipping his pants just enough to reach inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock and making him gasp, his whole body tensing as you squeezed him. He was thick, hard, already wet from the pre-cum that leaked from his tip, and the way he moaned, quite high, only made you want to drag it out and tease him until he was begging to come.

As you quickly positioned yourself over his face, you could see how he was a nervous wreck the moment your ass hovered above him. "Oh, please, don’t just lay there. Get to work," you teased, lowering yourself down, your pussy brushing against his lips.

When he finally opened his mouth, it was like you flipped a switch. The moment your folds hit his tongue, he moaned, the sound muffled against you. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but grind against his face, pushing him harder against you.

"God, you’re a natural," you gasped, encouraging him with your hips. "Just like that, baby. Don’t be shy; use your tongue."

Daryl’s mouth worked hesitantly at first, but the more you ground down, the more confident he became. His face was buried in your pussy, the taste of you driving him wild as he licked and sucked, trying to figure out what made you feel good, and the way he looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and lust, only made you want to ride his face harder.

"Yeah, keep going," you panted, feeling your legs tremble as he finally got into a rhythm. "Good boy, just like that," you moaned, feeling the tension building inside you. He was so focused, so eager to please, and the way he hungrily licked and sucked made you see stars.

"Don’t stop, Daryl. I’m so close," you urged. "Yeah, that’s it," you moaned, pushing your hips down even harder. "Don’t you dare stop. Just like that—yes!"

The way he held your thighs, trying to hold you against him, and the way he whimpered against you—those sweet little sounds pushed you right over. "I’m cumming! Fuck!"

Your body tensed, and you ground down harder again, shaking and feeling him groan against your dripping pussy as you let go and came, completely lost in the moment.

You felt him drink it all in, and you knew he was just as lost as you were. The second you pushed yourself off his face and watched him, face red and lips parted, you could tell Daryl had no idea what to do with himself. Wide-eyed and panting, he lay there as if you’d just dragged him straight into some fever dream he wasn’t even ready for. He seemed so helpless as he tried to piece together the storm of feelings that’d just hit him.

"Still with me, Daryl?" You asked, letting your weight push him further into the bed. His eyes looked down between your legs, then looked away, like he didn’t have the courage to watch.

"Y-yeah…"

He shuddered, that helpless little whine slipping out as you leaned down, your mouth right over his. He was as stiff as a board beneath you, looking both horrified and desperately curious at the same time.

"Think you can handle more of this?" You whispered, one hand moving down and wrapping around his cock as you took it fully out of his pants.

"W-wait," he stammered, trying to close his legs in a last attempt to get some space, but you only held him tighter, giving his cock a slow, teasing stroke. It twitched in your hand, leaking all over your fingers like he couldn’t stop himself.

"Sweetie, look at you," you smiled, swirling a finger over the tip, just to watch him jerk, hips lifting up like he was begging. "So needy aren't we?"

Daryl let out another whimper, his face going beet-red, those shy eyes looking away once more as though if he didn’t look at you, he’d somehow be less mortified.

"Feels so good, huh?"

His whole body was practically trembling with need, and he was leaking—a lot. His cock throbbed in your hand, pre-cum dripping so much it smeared along your fingers.

"Damn, Daryl," you whispered, smirking as your fingers now teased along the underside of his cock. "Didn’t know you’d be this easy, really."

You soon leaned down, your mouth just over his cock; the slightest lick of your tongue along his tip pushed another bit of pre-cum out, and you couldn’t help but laugh, loving every bit of his need.

"Baby, look at you, leaking everywhere," you teased again, wiping the tip with your thumb before bringing it to your lips, licking off the taste. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly before leaning up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your lips.

It made him moan again, his hands reaching out to grip your body as if needing to ground himself. "P-please…" He whispered, but you didn’t give in just yet.

Instead, you reached down, grabbing your vibrator again. You saw the way his eyes narrowed, with pure nervousness all over his face, as you suddenly pressed the toy to his cock, starting at the lowest setting. The buzzing made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily against you as you dragged the vibrator along his shaft, right along that sensitive spot just under the head. Every time it brushed up and down, he leaked more against your hand, only making it messier.

"Oh s-shit…" He whimpered, sounding utterly wrecked.

With a smirk, you leaned back and held up the vibrator for him to see, his eyes following it, dazed, and lips parted. "I think that’s enough; otherwise you might explode on the spot," you said, watching his expression drop just slightly as he looked at you switching it off and tossing it back into your toy box all of a sudden.

Leaning up, you gave his lips a slow, lazy kiss, feeling him melt against you, even more needy when you pulled away and slipped back down. And damn if he didn’t start leaking more, a fresh drop of slick pre-cum glistening right there, just begging to be tasted.

"How sweet you are, Daryl," you murmured, slowly moving your tongue along the underside of his cock, not missing the way his hips jerked up instinctively, even though he didn't seem to understand why. One gentle lick. That’s all it took for him to be close again, and he was helpless against it.

"Just relax and enjoy it," you continued, letting your tongue move along the tip of his cock and the desperate little gasp of his driving you wild as he grabbed the sheets, practically sobbing as he tried to hold back.

You wrapped your lips around just the head, barely enough to count as anything. But to him? It was like fireworks going off.

"N-no, I—oh fuck, I can’t—" He breathed out as his head fell back, his body shivering under you.

And when you took him just that tiny bit deeper, that was it—he lost it. Hard. He tried to hold it, tried to push you back even, one hand weakly pressing against your head, but he was already too far gone. The orgasm tore through Daryl, overpowering him completely.

His whole body stiffened, a helpless cry coming from his throat as he finally lost it, filling your mouth with his cum as he came. Before he even had time to process it, you’d swallowed every last drop from his throbbing cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked back up at him.

He was still shaking, his mind clearly blown, and when he finally managed to look at you, it was with that same wide-eyed shock.

Daryl just lay there, still in shock, his body trembling as reality sank in. "D-did ya really jus'—" His voice cracked with disbelief all over his face as he tried to wrap his head around what just happened.

You smirked at him, leaning in close, your lips moving softly against his in a teasing kiss. "What’s the matter, sweet boy? Never had someone swallow your cum before?"

He quickly shook his head. "I—I thought ya might get pregnan' or somethin'!" He stammered in embarrassment, his mind racing with the wildest thoughts.

"Oh, cutie. You really think it’s that easy? I'm sorry, but that's not how it works," you laughed, nudging his arm, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up like he was trying to hide from you. "What? Can’t even look me in the eye after that?"

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he thought he might stammer out just died right there, and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I... I didn’ mean to..." he finally managed to say, his voice cracking in the middle, his face still as red as a tomato.

You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t mean to what? Coming in record time?" You let out a sarcastic scoff, and he near cried, ducking his head as though it would save him.

"I-I dunno, I thought... I jus', I mean—" he stumbled over each word. "Jus' ain’t never been with... y’know, anyone... like that."

"No kidding," you replied dryly, watching him shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "Anyone coulda guessed that, by the way, you freaked the hell out." He winced at your words, but hell, it just made him look all the more adorable, laying there.

When you placed a hand on his thigh, he went stiff as a board all over. "Easy, Daryl," you murmured. "No one’s laughing at you... much."

"I-I’m... sorry," he mumbled again.

"Sorry?" You scoffed, tilting his chin up to force his eyes to look at you. "For what? That you came too soon, or that you actually loved it?"

He tried to look away, but your fingers held him in place. "Both, I reckon," he answered, his voice shaking. It was like he thought he’d done something wrong, like he needed to apologize for being human.

"Nothing wrong with it, Dixon. Means I sure as hell did it right." You laughed, running a thumb over his jawline as he stared back at you.

"Bet that head of yours is just spinning right now, ain’t it?" You said, half-mocking. "Poor, sweet Daryl, don’t know what to do with himself now."

It was easy to see what he still needed—what he wanted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You didn’t have to guess, though. He was desperate for something more, desperate for you to just tell him what to do. It was obvious that he had no experience with women or anything like this, but it didn’t matter to you. If anything, it just made it better. You wanted him nervous.

"Hey," you said softly. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not at all." You could see that he wanted to apologize again, wanting to make up for how pathetic he felt.

"Tell you what," you said, kissing his cheek. "You’ve got a lot to learn, Daryl Dixon. But I think you’re gonna like it. You just need to stop worrying." His hands moved to your waist, but they were hesitant, unsure. "And me? Well, I’m not here to judge you."

You took his hands and placed them back on your body, guiding him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate much, but it seemed as if he was trying to copy the way you had guided him earlier, trying to find some way to make up for what had happened. But that, for now, was enough.

"Don’t worry," you said, grinning at him, "I’m going to teach you."

Because you would. And he had no choice. Maybe that was what you liked most. The way Daryl needed you now, the way he didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was willing to follow you with your help along the way.

And he was only going to fall deeper.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema — (also tagging @darylsdelts as requested)

[antidesire]

older bf!leon (re6/id/death island) x rookie afab!reader. just a quick piece to tie you all over it’s for me i want death island leon so fucking bad. i wrote this fast so it’s also not great idfk

disclaimer.. age gap, reader wears skirts, restraint, cockwarming?, bratty reader, spit, p in v, leon is far too tolerant of you and your antics

leon s kennedy was the meanest boyfriend boss on earth..

that's what you concluded whilst in your little predicament, skirt pooled around his lap, if anyone were to walk in they wouldn't even notice your cunt stuffed full of his cock, oh that’s if it wasn’t for your desperate pleas and hopeless rutting against his lap.

you weren't even allowed to relieve the growing tension in your shoulders with the way leon's hands engulfed both of your wrists behind your back, so frustrating, suffocating, all you could do was give him the coldest look and voice your frustrations.

"let me move, asshole." you writhed against his hands, no budge.

"i don't trust you." he flat out told you, unamused expression, head titled to the side ever so softly, you could see him so close right now, his long eyelashes, and light stubble decorating his lower face.

your bottom lip jutted out into a little pout, putting the cutest expression you could muster up, he was always a sucker for that, "i'm being good." your eyelashes batted, leaning in to place a sweet little peck on the tip of his nose.

"no, you're a fucking brat, you like pretending you're good." he sighed, leaning his head back, squeezing his hand around your wrists to remind you of the position you were in, "i came here to work, not to fuck around like th- nghnn." he gritted his teeth, feeling you purposefully squeeze your cunt around his length.

"why'd cha' let me come along then?" your legs swayed a little on either side of him, still perched pretty on his lap.

he let out a noise, you couldn't tell if it was a chuckle or a scoff, "you know why." he muttered quietly like it would start a whole nother' conversation, and you did know why, you'd be on his ass all day and night complaining why you couldn't come along with him when you hardly saw him at all last week, which you still argued was unacceptable.

“mmm.. because you can’t resist me?” you hummed before continuing, “because you want me soo bad.” you wriggled your hips on top of him, something that sounded like a frustrated groan tearing from his throat.

he scoffed, in disbelief at your words, how tone deaf you were being, “oh sweetheart, i wholeheartedly believe that’s all you.”

you gasped, feigning shock at his ‘revelation’, “no way!” you pushed your face against his, dark trimmed hair tickling your cheek, “maybe you’re right..” you frowned, leaning in further to press faint kisses to his parted lips where the taste of aged whiskey still lingered.

“haven’t even got 5 minutes of research done and you sat yourself on my cock, who taught you to be such an incessant disobedient little slut, hmm?” he jerked you back a little with his grip still at your wrists, “i barely recognise the rookie that would come crawling to me, snivelling and weeping their eyes out every day when they messed up, begging me not to make em’ do 10 more sets.” he chuckled, clearly fondly remembering the memory whereas it had you gritting your teeth.

“god, you’re fucking insufferable now, look at you.” his eyes grazed over your body, only halting when he felt a splat of your saliva land on his face, “did you just fucking spit on me?” as irked as his tone grew, he still managed to muster out a laugh, and you had to admit, he was good, kept his cool, leon kennedy as level headed as ever.

you pushed it even further, laughing in his face and revelling in the thrill of what you just did, “go on, tell everyone what your rookie did.. how disrespectful i am, but tell em’ the whole story so they can know what what a dirty old man you are, mmm that’s what they’d call you, a fucking pervert.” you taunted.

a pained yelp flung from your lips when his fingers gripped tighter on your wrists, the sensation was uncomfortable and it was stinging now, but you still found it more frustrating how he was stuffed inside of you and you couldn’t move properly.

“you’re so pretty but you play so ugly, that hurts my heart baby.” he feigns a pout, to mock your pain almost, “this what you want?” his hips jerked upwards and you squeaked from the pressure of his cock so deep within you, “won’t shut up till you get your way? stubborn but i guess you learn from the best, don’t you sweetheart?” he sighed out.

“you’re really just all bark, no bite, aren’t you?” he continued to question, but you could only muster out small whimpers and mewls, especially when his arm grasped around your waist to raise your hips so he could stable his boots on the ground, and fuck up into you, pace much more consistent though he never let up on how deep he was inside of you.

“see, all it takes is a little bit and you go all dumb on me, i mean.. that’s really no way to stay on alert.” he scoffed out and if you weren’t so overjoyed with the motions of his hips you would’ve replied with something just as snarky but fuck, you had been wiggling on his lap previously for a good half an hour so this was pure bliss.

“s-shut hghhnn—“ your head fell back, all intentions to insult the man beneath you failing when his tongue darted out to lick at the tender skin on your neck, teeth grazing along the goosebumps forming.

“what was that?” he reiterated, clearly amused at the state he had you in.

with one of your hands free you lean it back against his knee, giving you some leverage to bounce yourself on his cock, as though your brain only had one motor in the moment and it was to chase that delicious high bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

you looked like a mess but leon loved you most like this, so be it if he was a pervert. “that’s it..” he cooed, helping meet your desperate pace, the way you pushed down on him, barely able to move without a shudder or strained moan.

“poor baby, i got you.” he hummed, clearly taking pity on you, despite your previous disobedience, he sure had a soft spot for his rookie.

with both of his arms snug around your waist now, he found it much easy to manoeuvre and manhandle you as he pleased, hips erratically jackhammering up into you, “f-fucahh..” he grunted, “hear that? how sloppy we sound?” and he was right, the sound of how wet your cunt should’ve made you embarrassed but you were far too busy clawing at his shoulders and moaning prettily in his ear to even begin to care.

you didn’t even have time to make any coherent sounds to let leon know you were cumming, simply holding on to him for dear life and limply laying against him so he could use you as he wished, that tight coil in your tummy snapping and pure bolts of ecstasy pulsating throughout your body, breathlessly chanting out mantras of his name as he helped you ride out your high.

“oh fuck..” you exhaled, sheepishly giggling when your vision focuses back on leon, “hey handsome, wanna do that again?” and maybe he was right too, you were incessant.

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads ( Homelander x OC )

chapter one: first impressions

chapter directory

summary: holding the heart of a self-proclaimed god is hard work, but someone's gotta do it. who'd have ever thought it would be some nobody, a simple street level hero-branded-vigilante, who would ascend to one of the seven coveted thrones and do just that?

tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

It’s a night like any other in the concrete jungle of New York City.  A streak of red swings through the streets by lines of webbing, eyes peeled for anyone disrupting the peace in his friendly neighborhood.  Well, not his neighborhood exactly.  He was just a vigilante after all.  There’s plenty of fun to pick from, but only one instance could be so special to the city’s one and only Spider-Man– to Benjamin.

It’s not the quippy banter with the thugs breaking into the back of a bodega, nor is it the amusement he gets from webbing each of the fools in one big pile on the ground that makes this night memorable.  It’s the interruption, the anomaly that appears all too silently from the sky.

“And just what do we have here, hm?” 

The bug turns in surprise, steeling himself against the rush of anxiety that shoots through his veins.  This is no ordinary supe here to gripe about him stealing their thunder.  This is a man– a god, perhaps– in a whole ‘nother league. 

Ben would recognize him by voice alone because it was impossible not to hear it at least once a day.  Hell, hide the costume and he’d probably still recognize that face– because it’s everywhere. Billboards, magazines, fucking cereal boxes– you name it, he’s probably there.

Before him stands The Homelander, captain of The Seven, pretty much the face of Vought International.  World’s most powerful supe.

“Oh, y’know.”  He gestures.  “Riffraff doing what they do, and me doing what I do.”

“Nicely done,” Homelander says, professional smile etched into his face like he’d rehearsed this.  “You know, good work like this is why we’ve been nipping at your heels, kiddo.  Really wish you’d stop making us chase you around.”

And there it is.  This was no chance meeting– as if one of the big boys from The Seven would ever be caught dead in an alley in Harlem of all places.  Spidey cocks a brow behind his mask.  Vought must be desperate.

See, he’s been particularly unlucky lately.  

Even before he donned the mantle of Spider-Man, it was never about being in the big leagues.  Benjamin mused upon the idea of it, but he could never find himself truly taken with the idea of selling himself as a hero.  Not only was the mere idea of commercializing his ability to do a unique good revolting, it would strip away one of the only true freedoms he has.  Of course, Vought knew nothing of his reasons– not that they’d care either way– and were ardently pursuing him to fill the now vacant seat formerly belonging to Translucent.

And now, as his luck would have it, they’ve sent their biggest dog to fetch their desired toy.

Benjamin’s sixth sense tells him nothing in the moment.  No hidden danger, no tickling of warnings to bolt.  A goose chase spanning two months finally coming to a titanic head as The fucking Homelander himself holds him not-quite-hostage in an alleyway. 

“You’re still their top pick, you know,” Homelander says, nodding over to the webbed pile of crooks.  “You play by their rules without even being on the team.  A little… sloppy, but effective.  Tell me, how is it you’re going to turn down a spot in the biggest of the big leagues, hm?  You’ve pretty much skipped the line.”  Homelander scuffs the sole of his boot against the ground, kicking a pebble to the side as he meanders closer.  “What, is vigilantism more fun?  You like having all those warrants?  Vought could clear ‘em up.  Get you set straight in the eyes of the law, make you official.  Pay you for your late night troubles…”

Ben bristles as he comes closer.  It’s not the proximity necessarily, it’s… 

It’s like he’s looking straight through the mask.  

Benjamin releases a tight breath.  “My answer isn’t changing.” He says firmly, despite the anxiety cooking in his chest.  He is not a confident man by any stretch.  The most bravado he’ll ever know in his life comes from being Spidey.  Nobody can see him– nobody knows who he is when he’s got the mask on. He can be whoever he wants.  But right now he feels see through.  

Pick your words carefully,  he thinks to himself.

“I’m not a show pony for Vought to extort.”

Don’t cave– do not give him that satisfaction.  It’s what he wants.

He wouldn’t work for Vought.  He’s chosen years of barely scraping by rather than taking a tech job with them as a regular person, why the fuck would he do it as a supe?  What, he’s just supposed to ignore the endless skeletons in their closet?  The pain and suffering, all the people he’s seen online talking about how Vought threw money at them to not sue after some accident or another only to up and disappear?  

Ben idolized heroes for so long.  His powers didn’t manifest until his late teens and he grew up wanting to be just like the superheroes that made the world a better place– until he realized that those types were so few and far between that they might as well not even exist.  All of his childhood heroes were NDAs and settlements, pain and suffering, all covered with media stunts and weak, lazy apologies.  Posters were torn down, action figures tossed in the trash– he moved on and eventually became the hero he wished his idols would've been.

“Show pony? Pfffft,” Homelander laughs, blowing a raspberry.  “Please.  Look at yourself.  Skin tight red and blue suit, leaving messes of webs everywhere you go.  Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you’re already there.”

“They parade you guys around like trophies,” Ben counters, trying to keep the edge off his tone.  “I’m not in this to make money for some rich-fuck shareholders, y’know.”

“And?  See, you told every single agent before me that you were in ‘this’ to make a difference.”

Fuck.

“You know how much fucking range you’d have in The Seven?”  Homelander splays his arms wide as if to show the scale of the world.  Agitation is starting to write itself on his face, leaking free in the twitches of his eye and those rapid blinks.  He clearly didn’t expect to have to work for this.  “You could help anyone anywhere, all you have to do is say yes.”

The worst part?  That’s not technically a lie.  And it’s not not tempting. 

“I’m sure you’ll see reason,”  Homelander smirks, sauntering just the slightest bit closer.  “Benjamin.”

The bug’s heart drops to his gut, eyes going wide and glancing in the direction of the pile of webbed crooks in the hopes they neither heard nor will a last name be following. 

Fuck, fuck– 

They have his name. 

“Don’t–”

“Don’t what?”  Homelander asks innocently, lips curling even sharper.  “You really thought we wouldn’t know who you are?  Pff– hah!  Please.”

Closer and closer, every step feeling like a lifetime.

“I can see through that mask, you know.  Can see how scared you are.” Homelander tuts as he comes within arms reach.  “I can hear the pitter patter of your little heart…”

Ben gulps, breaths coming heavy.

“And…”  Homelander leans forward, voice a whisper. “I’m sure you understand, Mister Colyer, that I could kill you right now…”  A hand falls to rest on Ben’s shoulder, gripping tight.  “I really don’t like being told no.”

Ben’s voice shakes and his knees quake, totally ready to dart as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

“I'm… not– I'm not doing it.”

His sixth sense doesn’t stir.

Homelander’s bluffing.  But, really… So is he.

It’s like the world froze.  Time stands still as they stare at one another.  Benjamin can see the anger dancing in Homelander’s eyes, but nothing comes of it.

Not even when the bug backs away and that leather clad hands falls free from his shoulder.

“Look, uh… this was nice, y’know?”

Smooth, Ben.  Smooth.

“But uh, just call me Randy Jackson, because it’s uhm... it's gonna be a no from me, dawg.”  Terrible time for humor, but something had to break the tension.  “Goodbye, Homelander.” 

And with that, Ben bolts, vaulting up and off the side of a building to propel himself into the night.  

Homelander remains in the alley, still stunned, a piercing ring deafening the world around him.  He lingers, thoughts racing.

Turned down by the bug, huh champ?

Of course, of fucking course there would be some commentary.

“Hey big guy, you gonna let us go?”  

And of course there’s some filth bold enough to interrupt him.

Homelander turns, eye twitching as he scans the pile of mud practically cocooned in webbing.  They expect him to release them.  After all, Spider-Man is a vigilante.  None of his catches are technically official, though there’s usually enough evidence for that fact to be ignored.

“C’mon, you know we ain’t done no harm!  Me and the boys were just walkin’ by is all.”  

The man in question chuckles nervously at him.

Homelander saunters closer, hands behind his back.  He stands over the man, inspecting every little detail.  The growing fear in his eyes, the way he sweats.

Putrid. Echoes the voice in his mind.  Remind them of who they’re talking to. Of the god they disrespect.

He lifts his foot, placing it dead center on the man’s chest.

“No– please, I didn’t–”

He presses down slowly, grin etching onto his face as pleas turn to tight gasps.  The others in the webbing try to scramble, but they can’t escape.

They’re at his mercy.  As they should be.

A crunching sound precedes his favorite part.  Ribs and muscle give way and a loud squelch graces his ears and the ringing– oh the ringing stops. It's serene, knowing what power he holds.  What iron fist he truly has wrapped around the neck of this world.

Attaboy.

To think they’d think him so low as to aid them.  To think they’d get to live after seeing him rejected so brazenly.

Now for the rest.

As he takes care of the others, he wonders just how persuasive he'll need to be with the little spider.  What threads must he pull to get his way?

[theblueflower05]

Imagine alpha!Jake fucking reader for the first and slightly freaking out when his dick is stuck inside reader. But once she explains knotting it drives him crazy. He pulls his half shrunk knot before slamming it back in moaning about how he wants to knot her over and over again marking her as his.

LMFAO WHY IS THIS ACTUALLY ICONIC?!😂

Because like-

You’re such a little minx. You’ve had your eye on Jake since the night he’d made his appearance at Home Tree. Trailing behind Neytiri like a lost pup.

While everyone else had been outraged, scared or upset- you had only felt curious. Innately intrigued by the five fingered dream walker.

When Jakes gaze had met your own in the crowd- you hadn’t backed down. Instead you’d given him a small smile, and a flip of your long braids.

Clearly interested.

Smut under the cut

As the days go on and he starts his Omiticayan training- it becomes apparent that the man is an Alpha and well, as an unmated Omega your self, that only spurs your desire for him.

You’re shameless and Jakes touch starved. It’s not long before the two of you are sneaking into the woods, your mismatched fingers linked. You drag him to all of your favorite hiding spots, one’s no other knows exists and let him touch you.

He’s so different then Na’vi men. Like a child almost- fumbling and not leaning into his sexual nature.

But just at first.

Just while he gains his bearings. While he learns what it’s like to feel pleasure in his Avatar body.

After that, he fucks you like a man possessed. With his tongue and his five fingers. His whole face. Oh it’s so so good. You become addicted to his touch.

When you finally let him inside of you- he slides into you, and you both emit punched out sounds.

It’s too good. You’re so SO tight. Tighter then anything he’s ever experienced.

It’s a dance, primal and sweaty and hot and you hold on tight to him as he learns it’s steps.

It’s familiar- not human- but close enough that he feels comfortable.

That is until he comes and can’t pullout.

He’s fucking terrified. His big golden eyes are round and his ears are pinned to his head- tail flicking erratically behind him as he tries to figure out what’s going on “Oh fuck- Y/N are you okay? Am I hurting you? I don’t know what’s going on- this has never”

You hiss- irritated and sore as his fat knot tugs on your rim. Your arms and legs go around him as you pull him down, trying to make him stop moving. “Stop moving, where is this energy from? Why would I be hurt?”

“I’m stuck” Jake does not get why you aren’t freaking out and chalks it up to the fact that this has to be normal for Na’vi. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told him about this? “I’m literally stuck inside of you right now”

Your brows furrow and you reach up to cup his face “Yes, you knotted me. How else will we ensure your seed takes?”

And that just throws him into a whole nother wave of freak out. You essentially have to soothe and calm down the 10 foot tall hulking man that’s inside of you. It’s lots of back rubs and calming words spoken into his flicking ear. It’s okay, my love. We are joined by our bodies, isn’t it beautiful?

And

It kind of is. Beautiful. Jake thinks. Beautiful to feel your insides. Your tight silky walls pulse rhythmically around him. His cum is plugged into your womb.

Also soon as he’s done freaking out he realizes just how horny it’s made him, he’s almost fully hard again. He filled you up, and knotted you full. His Britain is buzzing with animalistic satisfaction.

His Pornhub history had always been filled with “Breeding Kink” rhetoric. Cute brunette gets her pussy creamed. Things of that nature.

This takes it to a whole different level.

He has a feeling he’s going to spend as much time as you’ll allow stuck inside of you.

….sorry you guys. I got carried away lol

[bromcommie]

man the whole setup of friction between Steve as the weary soldier but also the idealist and Fury as the personification of the modern American intelligence/defense apparatus is great. Like I can't even give any funny-haha commentary on it it's literally just. Good. The dialogue is for the most part well written, the actors play the tension off of each other well, we get a very quick but very efficient look into Fury's mindset (I fucking love the "Grandad loved people, but he didn't trust them very much" story on so many levels when it comes to Fury's character, but I won't get into that now), the context feels real enough and the stakes high enough to catch your interest and get you thinking about the real world implications, even within a MCU "everything is very vague very purposefully" framework. And narratively speaking some of the little moments they drop in there that you wouldn't really pay attention to watching for the first time (in the case of this scene specifically the AI in the elevator pointing out Steve doesn't have clearance for Insight and Fury's "director override" foreshadowing, but also thinking back on that Steve-Rumlow interaction) are nice hints that retrospectively beef up the big reveal about Hydra.

Another moment I find personally interesting is Fury referring to just how bloody and morally devastating WWII was for the Allies as well, if for no other reason than it giving Steve a chance to show his own justification logic. And while on the surface it does seem comparatively more black and white (which is how many people—including, ironically, the writers of this movie lol—frame the '40s in general; as if the people and politics of the time are so vastly removed from those today, but that's a whole 'nother topic altogether) it still makes me wonder just how much of that certainty would, in this moment, be coming from a defensive place because him and Fury are essentially having a hostile conversation, and how much of it is how Steve actually justifies the weight of it all to himself.

[snomoscribbles]

Nanui x Avatar!reader

Rated: Explicit🔞

Tags: fluff and smut, sass, teasing, cunnilingus, eating out, body differences, size difference AO3 Link

(2nd person pov gender neutral terms used) "Courting a Metkayina was not really something you had on your bucket list, but after the last couple weeks you're convinced it should have been."

°•°•°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°•°•°

To be completely fair you never thought you'd end up here.

Here being a Metkayina settlement.

When it had been brought up after the bloodshed and chaos, the Metkayina were in need of aid you weren't really expecting to be first on the list for that flight.

And yet. Here you are on the sandy shores of Awa'atlu.

It had been sometime since you ventured too far from the home base. From the Omatikayan. And when you'd arrived you were not prepared for the absolute units that were waiting to greet you.

Omatikaya we're not small. Avatars and their hybrid genes were not small. But the Metkayina were fucking huge. A whole nother level of too damn big.

It was intimidating and interesting from a scientific perspective. The adaptations and changes made to their bodies to make living here easier.

Flat paddle like tails, finned forearms for swimming, teal gradients dappled on their skin to better suit the waves, and don't even get yourself started on the mass of them.

Larger chest and stockier build for the lung capacity they no doubt needed paired with the muscle to swim against ocean currents.

These were some built navi.

And the cherry on top was ink and swirling tattoos tracing the contours of their bodies. The dark markings contrasting with their lighter colors. It was really breathtaking, even the older clan members whose tattoos started to fade over time looked stunning with the meaningful patterns.

Yet as large and imposing as they could be, you found yourself more at home here than you were expecting.

The salty air and sunshine, the glow under the waves at night, and....maybe the company.

You glance over as you make your way across the woven paths of the village, basket of beads and an odd twine of sorts in your hands.

The tattooed craftsman sat as poised as always, a warm smile on his face and ever clear blue eyes hooded with his gaze focused on his work.

Nanui.

The weaver had definitely become someone you'd consider close. A friend.

Just a friend you swore. No matter how many knowing glances and suggestive grins you got from fellow avatar program survivors and other clansmen.

The friendly and warm hearted Navi had caught your attention when you first landed. Understandably after the war was brought to them, most of the Metkayina were wary of strangers. Especially the avatars. But they swallowed some dignity to get the help they needed and you tried your best to be respectful of that.

The first time you set your gaze on him you had to pointedly look UP to see those large inquisitive crystalline eyes. Even amongst his clan, he was tall. You'd imagine he was at least 10 feet tall, which put him about 12 inches and some change taller than you. Your avatar body wasn't the tallest for the Omatikayan, but you were pretty average.

Nanui had a tired and worn but welcoming smile on his face while he explained he would be your guide for the time you were here. No doubt he'd been working on the recovery of his people.

At first you thought the huge man was a guard of sorts meant to keep an eye on you so you didn't cause trouble in the community. It would make sense. But over the weeks you came to realize he was probably one of the few willing to volunteer to be near you at all.

Soon your large guide became a treasured companion, nudging you gently to correct your mistakes when you misspoke or to fix a task you tried to pick up to help the clan. Making jokes and teasing your differences good naturedly. Encouraging your progress with that loud heartfelt laugh and unabashedly cheering when you succeeded.

He seemed to sense your staring and perked up, meeting your gaze with hum of question and a tilt of his head.

"Ah it is the ungrateful one. How are we feeling today, hm?"

You can't help the small laugh and roll of your eyes, padding over to set down your basket of goodies for the weaving circle as you sat down beside him. Your traitorous tail flicked excitedly behind you, but luckily the teal man seemed to pay no mind.

"Im not ungrateful, just untalented. I told you already, Nanui if I could manage to learn to weave, I would."

"You have so little faith in yourself! Anyone can learn in time and time is everywhere. See? You're wasting it right now. You could be stringing beads!"

He grinned, giving you a gentle shove with that joyous laugh that always made your stomach do flips.

"Just because I have a Fifth finger, does not mean I can suddenly make complex patterns out of grass like you do."

"Who said suddenly, hm? I said you need to put time forward to earn your talents. All of you are the same. Flaunting your gifted fifth finger, but not putting it to use! What good is it just sitting there on a lazy hand, hm?"

He reaches over and wiggles your wrist around childishly with a firm pout, making your hand flop around limply.

You steal your hand back with a laugh, "Excuse you sir, they're not lazy. Just... Not as handy as they should be."

The large Navi paused as the words processed and you watch with rapt attention as a smile grew and soon he lets out a deep rich laugh that shakes his shoulders.

"Because it is your hand! Handy! I understand!"

You crack the sappiest smile at his excitement, shaking your head. The Metkayina had taken some time to understand puns but they delighted him once the learning period had passed.

You scoot in closer to look at what he's working on, eyebrows raised curiously.

"So what's today's project,hm?"

"Oh! I am redoing some beaded cords for the entrance of my sisters Marui. My nephews have torn her previous one down with their play. That I...may or may not have taken part in...."

"So you're fixing the entryway beads you tore down chasing Le'awe and Roxua?"

"That is not what I said." He muttered, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his lips with his ears down turned in effort.

"Uh-huh." You hum knowingly with a chuckled.

"Oh, before I forget!" He perks up, setting his beaded project down gently, "I have something for you. Every time I see you walking around you seem so.... Bare."

You look down at your standard RDA clothing. You wouldn't say bare, you were more clothed than any Navi you'd met.

T shirt and shorts made for the avatars. They were easy and made you feel a little more comfortable than most of the pieces you'd been offered by the Omatikayan.

Worried he was going to offer you one of the lovely but very sparse clothing pieces often worn by the Metkayina you default to declining.

"Nanui I'm not really-"

"Here see?" He moved around a couple fronds and unfinished weaving projects before finally pulling out a lovely woven circle with pearls and smoothed sea glass of greens and blues dotting between the braided leather.

"I...an arm band? How will that make me less bare...?" Your voice was soft as you took the offered gift, eyes wide and ears standing at attention to reflect your interest.

It was really beautiful.

"You wear more cloth than anyone I've seen, but it lacks history. No sentiment or care in this weaving." He tugs at the edge of your shirt pointedly, "You are bare of soul. And someone who shines as brightly as you, should have some, yeah?"

You choke up a little, lower lip wobbling at the kind words. You can hear your heart in your ears as you timidly offer him the band.

"Can-can you help me put it on?"

"Of course." He smiles warmly, "I hope this helps you feel more at home here. You grow more and more each day. It's been a privilege to teach you."

His touch is cool against your flushed skin, still warm from the heat of the afternoon and the day of work behind you.

He ties the armband tight enough that it won't budge and it sits comfortably on your bicep. Your skin tingles from the contact of his fingertips that you could swear lingered longer then needed.

You swallow thickly, looking at the Metkayina with a fond smile.

You settle yourself with a small breath, the fingers of your free hand tracing idly back and forth across your new accessory. Definitely a new sensory toy for you. The smooth pearls and tight pattern feel nice under your nervous tracing.

C'mon he made an opening, you can nudge this in the right direction with a little honesty. You got this.

"You know....I do feel more at home here. But that's...um. mostly your doing honestly."

"Hm? Well I would hope so. I am your guide after all. I did not think I was doing the worst of jobs."

You recognize an out for what it is, but clear your throat with a shake of your head.

"No...Nanui. I think....Well you've come to mean a lot to me. And I don't know exactly how that works for you guys here, but I just really wanted to say something because well...I..."

The teal Navi stares at you blankly for a moment and you can feel your nerves start to creep in. But soon the darkest flush you've seen on a Metkayina probably ever lights up his face, ears quivering with whatever emotions were going through his head.

The sound of swishing sand drags your eyes away for just a moment to reveal his large tail dragging back and forth behind him.

The project he'd been holding gets cast aside as he moves towards you, the size difference between you two glaringly obvious when he places his large hands on either side of you and leans down enough so his words are soft for just the two of you. You're close enough to see the soft greens and teals streaked through the icy blue of his eyes.

He tilts his head in question, inky black curls and braids spilling over broad shoulders.

"Are you asking about courting?"

"Y-yeah. I guess I am. Or at least the uh...before courting? Just...showing intent?"

He grins big and wide, prominent dimples dipping at either side. He needed to stop that right now. Something that large shouldn't be that cute.

"Ma'Paskalin, just saying so is perfectly acceptable. Grand gestures are appreciated but you do not need to waste such things on me."

You flush, heat staining your cheeks and manage a belligerent pout despite your excitement at the pet name.

"It's not wasted! If it's you. You're worth some grand gestures or gifts at least."

His smile turns soft and he tilts his head the other way in a gooey heartbreaking puppy eyed look that has you weak.

"You are a gift as you are, Ma'Paskalin. I don't think I could ask Eywa for more."

Oh what the fuck. Right through the heart.

You push a hand to his chest, nudging him back with a flustered huff leaving your lips. You don't push him too far, keeping your hand against the cool teal skin as you mutter in response.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Jesus. I just...I want to do something. Or just ... Have a way for others to know that We are...I don't know together?"

He takes your hands in his gently, pulling them from where they rested at his collarbone to hold them between you two.

He has a crooked smile, tone playful.

"You wish to claim me?"

"I....yeah. yes. If that's what you want?"

"Hm...if there is doubt, perhaps I should make a larger effort to be sure you feel wanted, Yawne. Because I want you."

He brings your hand up, lacing his large fingers with yours from behind and placing a gentle kiss to your palm. Your breath hitches, his words flustering you and making you swallow thickly.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Courting a Metkayina was not really something you had on your bucket list, but after the last couple weeks you're convinced it should have been.

Nanui had always been more affectionate. You'd grown accustomed to leaning on him at group gatherings, the way he gently guided you this way and that with those large hands, his affectionate headbutts when you leaned close enough.

But this. This was a whole different level. The was rarely a moment in Nanuis presence that you weren't being swept into a loose hold. His arms at your waist, sliding around your hips to rest with his chin set atop your head or shoulder while you all conversed with whoever that day.

Tender kisses were pushed to your head, your shoulders, your nose, anytime he laid eyes on you, the affection was expected and sought after. Cool smiling lips against sun warmed skin, picking out luminescent freckles between azure stripes. It didn't take you long to start leaning into it, a rumbling of approval from deep in the Navis chest letting you know he was pleased when you did so.

That sounds alone would send a delighted shiver right down your spine.

He grew more bold as you relaxed into his affections, pinching gently at your tail as he passed and making you yelp and swat at him, tugging you to lay on his chest while the two of you swam, floating and propelling you through the water with sluggish kicks, his fingers gently ran through your hair, assistance freely given to help you with styling it in ways that would be less effected by the waters you now traversed in daily.

He now proudly wore a crudely made necklace around his neck. Longer than his normal set with Omatikayan colors and patterns. Even if you were technically not a part of the Omatikaya clan, it was what you knew and you hoped you weren't going to insult anyone with the less than stellar craftsmanship.

But it was a courting token. And one he nearly cried for when you offered it to him, sheepishly holding the long beaded ring up for him to inspect.

He barely looked at it in honesty which you're flattered by and grateful for. You have a feeling you could've offered him anything and he would accept with gusto.

He'd dove into the necklace like he was going to battle, a dimple summoning grin on his face as he gently butted his forehead against yours.

"I see you Ma'Paskalin." He murmured softly, eyes wide with awe and affection.

You could barely breathe with his intensity, letting out a laugh and throwing your arms around those teal dappled shoulders, nuzzling your nose against his with your ears flickering with delight.

"I see you."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The eclipse had past hours ago, the celebration of the night still singing in your veins.

There had been a wonderful feast. With music and dancing into the night. The hunters had brought back an impressive catch and in the warmth of the season a gathering was overdo. And it was the first you'd witnessed since coming here.

Everyone was adorned with elaborate traditional jewelry, hand painted markings, and colorful hair pieces. Including yourself, though you still opted for a little more coverage, the ropes and beads at your hips felt nice and your skin was more open to the cool sea air.It was amazing to see. The colors and shadows dancing off of teal navi around the fire as they danced and laughed. Including yours.

Nanui was laughing loud and joyous, twirling his youngest of three nephews and letting him stand on his feet beside the roaring fire. White and yellow patterns flow down his body, streaks of colored paint dragging across the taut skin of his stomach, swirling on either side of his hips and connecting at his naval.

And as always, clasped firmly around his neck is your courting gift. You can't help the swell of affection in your chest, your fingers coming up to gently trace the shells at your own throat that he'd gifted you in return shortly after agreeing to your courting.

It was surreal and you can't fight your smile when he looks up to locks eyes with you. He's so full of life and wonder and love, it's almost overwhelming. As if he was contagious. And he was yours.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The warmth of the fire had left your skin as you stumbled your way through the sand laughing, hand in hand with the large tattooed man that had come to hold your heart.

Encompassing hands grasp your waist, fingers nearly meeting as they gently lay you down on the comfortable layered bedding in Nanui's darkening mauri.

Heated open mouthed kisses are peppered down your throat, making you arch further into the touch with a shuttered breath past your lips.

"Nnnnanui. Shit."

Teeth nibble at your collarbone, intense blue gaze flickering up as the Metkayina Navi leaves a dark possessive mark on you.

He's been paying attention, dragging his firm grip up with just enough pressure that your skin dips beneath his touch and noting every sigh and twitch you make.

"Precious....look at you Ma'Paskalin..."

He doesn't move his lips from your skin, tongue and teeth tracing the patterns and star scattered freckles as he situates himself between your parted legs. ”Is this okay,Yawne?” He breathes against your navel, intense gaze dragging upwards as he questioned softly, “I'm happy to stop where you see fit. You’ll tell me, yeah?” ”y-yeah. More than okay. Please don’t stop.” you managed to force out with a deep flush staining your face, swallowing thickly as he continues to lavish your body in affection as he descends. He takes his time to press kisses and soft bites to every mark and freckle he passes, a steady rumbling in his chest making you melt into the bedding beneath you. ”Wouldn’t dream of it, If I tasted nothing but your skin from this day forward, I would want for nothing.” That should be weird to hear, but you cant help the small whine that leaves you with the playful bite he leaves at your hip. He tucks his fingers into the corded top of your bottoms, eyes drifting up once again. You give him a nod of encouragement and he smiles big and crooked and awed and it makes your heart hurt with the flux of affection within you.

Dragging the cloth own your thighs slowly, he presses his fingers into the striped skin of your legs as he goes, bringing them back up to grip your thighs firmly once its discarded with his ear perked in interest, pupils blown wide. You part your legs to welcome wide shoulders between, the teal navi sliding his hands to the tops of your thighs to pull you in and you laugh a little at the movement.

A small gasp falls from you as he presses his lips flush against you, wasting no time before they part and soon you’re overwhelmed with the heated wet tongue dragging across you.   

Your teeth clench, biting off a desperate whine as you press your hips upward into that devilish tongue. Your ears flatten against your head, the mat beneath your back the only thing grounding you as you reach between your parted thighs to grab hold of the loose curls in a tight grip.

The bluest eyes peer up at you over the beaded belt at your hips gifted by Nanui himself and left on to chime with your movements,a large scarred hand pressed against your stomach to keep you pinned while long curling strokes of that tongue against you makes you squirm against his hold. The heat builds, the air thickening around you as you buck against him fruitlessly and your breathing becomes labored.

Nothing could prepare you for the way he dove in like a man starved, consuming every gasp and whimper and sigh with a focus that had you tilting your head back, unable to handle the eye contact.

“f-fuck. Right there.”

A man on a mission, he obliges,letting his tongue out further to accommodate you. You knew you wouldn’t last long like this.With his sole focus on your pleasure and hellbent on giving you everything.

You could already feel the pressure of an oncoming release, tears not quite spilling from your watery eyes as he doubled down, hands gripping harder at your thighs, large fingers sliding against the sweat slicked skin. You expected a break somewhere between starting and now, to have a moment to breathe while he leaned back to replenish his own air. But it wasn’t happening. He explored you further,fluid drags of tongue and teeth and suction that had your toes curling and your breath stuttering. You grip his hair tighter, the Metkayina groaning lowly against you and giving another stimulant on top of his ministrations. His hair falls over his shoulders in dark waves as you manage to free it from the bun on the back of his head, giving you more to grasp. ”Shit-shit-shit. Nanui. Im gonna…please…” You’re tipping over the edge soon after when he presses in further, his hands spanning over the entirety of your hips and letting you grind into him as you reach your peak with a loud sob and tears finally spilling over.

Your thighs quake at the sides of his head, squeezing him between them as he continues his work though slower.Long languid motions that have you gasping for breath at the sensation.

But he’s not stopping. He still hasn’t run out of that famed Metkayina lung capacity and you feel yourself twisting a little in his grip.

He doesn’t relent, holding you firmly and coaxing more whines and pleas from you with every swallow and flex of his throat. You’re actively crying at this point, gasping for breath and lungs burning as you writhe. Fuck. It was too much. You’re oversensitive and the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop is how slow and warm and gentle the glide of his tongue is, tasting without pushing. Like you were his last meal and he was going to make it last as long as he could.

It wasn’t building into an orgasm like the first, it was a constant pleasure. Oozing into your body like an oil slick and coating every nerve until you were shaking and you nearly ached with it.

Water bubbles on your lashes, breath ragged and stuttered as you finally find the means to speak. ”I-I cant again…please…Nanui.”

Its only then that he pulls back, licking his lips that were shining, slick, and mildly swollen, having the nerve to look not the slightest bit out of breath as a presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, resting his cheek there to look up at you like he didn’t just eat you out until you cried with absolute adoration.

“How do you feel, Ma'Paskalin?” He slides his hands up and down your sides gently, bringing you down from your shaking over-stimulation with gentle touches as he sits up to loom over you. His eyes flicker back and forth, taking in your expression for any discomfort.

You cant help but laugh breathlessly, shaking your head.

“I feel like my bones have been replaced with jelly.”

He smiles so softly, every bit of love and affection he possessed drowning you through his large eyes.

“I will assume that’s a good thing?”

“Baby, its fucking amazing.C’mere.”You pull him down so his weight is pressed against you, firm and comforting,pressing a kiss to his nose.

 “I'm not going to lie, I was freaking out when I realized you didn’t need to come up for air.”

“oh?” ”Don’t you ‘oh’ me. You know exactly what I'm talking about you free diving bastard.” ”Yawne…you have come diving with me. And you know very well I could have dived for much longer.”

You flush darkly at the thought. You did know that. You’ve seen some of the reef clan free dive for nearly half an hour. And you didn’t know if that was the longest they could go, or just what they had needed at the time. Jesus. ”Well. I uh- I guess we’ll have to test that.”

There's a mischievous grin on his face as he leaned down to butt his forehead against yours in the sweetest movement, taking your chin in between his fingers. With the size of his hand it was really more like pinching most of your jaw. ”Anytime you’d like, Kalin. Im happy to indulge.” {Kalin: sweet to the taste} 

[goatcheesecak3]

Bus stop pt. 3

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x F!reader

Click here for M!reader version!

Check my pinned post for masterlist and all other parts of the story!

Includes: brief mention of unhealthy coping mechanisms, allusion to NSFW but no smut, fluff

Summary: after a little while of knowing eachother, Adam and his new friend become much closer.

Now that y/n was aware of Adam's big secret, she began to notice a lot more things that made sense to her. The bags under his eyes, how skinny he was, his dirty clothes. It was clear that the poor man was traumatised and hadn't been looking after himself, but the weight he carried on his shoulders was halved now. Y/n would stop at nothing to help out her new friend, and as the weeks went by, she realised just how much she cared about Adam. She realised that she had started to develop a little- no, a BIG- crush on Adam.

Adam was hunched over a mug of coffee in his apartment. It was a freezing cold January evening and Adam was feeling quite sorry for himself. He was cold, he was tired and god he was hungry. But cooking was hard, and ingredients were expensive, so coffee and cigarettes would have to suffice as a meal this evening.

As if on cue, however, Adam heard a knock at his door. Checking cautiously through the peephole, he saw y/n stood there, beautiful as ever. He needed no convincing to take the door off the chain and pull it open, greeting y/n with a pleasantly surprised grin.

"Y/n, what're you doing here?" He smiled, pulling her into a quick hug and letting her inside.

She looked at him with big, beautiful eyes filled with kindness.

"I made too much soup, thought you might want some?" She offered, holding up a large container.

Now, this wasn't strictly true. Y/n had definitely made too much soup for one person, but it was no accident. She knew how much Adam had been struggling to eat lately, most days he was too anxious or depressed to feed himself, but even on days where he could eat, he didn't really have the money to. Y/n didn't want Adam to feel like he was a charity case though, and so she let Adam think that her stopping by was no more than a happy coincidence.

Adam smiled widely,

"Oh my god, you have no idea how perfect this is! I was literally just thinking about how hungry i am"

Y/n let out a small chuckle and headed to Adam's kitchen to fill up some bowls with the soup and pop them in the microwave.

"It's leek and potato, just like how my mum used to make" y/n explained to Adam, who was practically drooling at this point.

The mouthwatering smell of comfort food wafted through Adam's tiny apartment, as the two bowls turned gradually in the microwave.

"God I can't wait..." Adam said excitedly as y/n set a bowl down in front of him.

Adam's apartment was humble and not very well furnished, but it had a certain charm to it. A beat up sofa with holey cushions sat in the front room, it wasn't much to look at, but it was soft and comfortable. On one side of the living room a dart board was hung on the wall, next to a few posters from old movies, flyers from various protests and shows he'd been to. On the other side was a door which lead to his redroom, where he developed his photos. His walls were covered in chipped red paint and water damage, yet somehow the place felt cosy.

"This soup is so fucking good" Adam groaned as he drank the last of it from his bowl and wiped his face on his sleeve.

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small giggle, it was nice seeing Adam like this, well fed and relaxed. As he reclined in the sofa next to her and stretched his twiggy arms above his head, she caught a glimpse of his tshirt riding up and ever so slightly exposing a snail trail on his tummy. She quickly looked away and attempted to hide her blush.

Of course she found Adam attractive, but this was a whole nother level. In that moment she struggled to suppress the urge to kiss him right then and there- but she pushed it down and tried to ignore it.

"You're so nice to me," Adam hummed, leaning back with his eyes closed. Y/n thought to herself that he resembled a sleepy puppy in some ways.

"Of course I'm nice to you, you're my best friend" She replied.

Adam's eyes opened and he looked at y/n again.

"You're my best friend too" he grinned, "Hey, y/n? You wanna stay over tonight? I feel way more relaxed when you're around, and I don't know, I guess I think I'd get to sleep better if I knew you were here." Adam seemed uncharacteristically timid, almost as though he was ashamed to be asking.

Truth be told, he was slightly ashamed, for two reasons. The first being that he was being so needy, which was unlike him, but second was that he was only half telling the truth to y/n. Of course her presence probably would help him get to sleep easier, but what he really wanted to say was more along the lines of "I'm stupidly in love with you and I just want you here all the time".

"Yeah, you know it could be pretty fun!" Y/n replied, "we can sit and talk, listen to music until you get tired."

Adam felt his heart leap. How was y/n always so kind? Willing to waste an entire night just to make sure he slept alright? She really was special. He decided that he ought to offer her a drink as thanks.

He pulled a bottle of Jack out of his cupboard and plopped it on the coffee table along with two glasses, telling y/n to help herself, which she gladly accepted.

...

"... and that's why alien is the best Sci-fi film ever created" Adam finished, taking a final swig of his third drink.

The pair had been sat drinking and talking about films for about an hour now, Adam feeling tipsy, had even done his best impressions of all the characters in exaggerated and hilarious voices. Y/n couldn't help but laugh raucuosly, Adam really was funny when he felt relaxed enough to let loose a bit. His beautiful eyes twinkled and his smile was infectious. Y/n felt so lucky that she'd met someone as fun to be around as Adam, there really was no one else she'd rather be spending time with.

"You're my favourite person to be around, you know that?" Y/n blurted out, feeling the effects of the alcohol and in turn feeling confident enough to be sentimental.

"Am I really?" Adam smiled, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-lidded, feeling a little tipsy as well.

"Yeah, you are... I kinda feel like if I go a day without seeing you then that day is just a waste" y/n said, her tone a little more serious now. She really meant it. Thoughts of Adam consumed her everyday life, he was the sort of perfect that words just don't do justice, because he was specifically perfect to her. Sure, he wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but to y/n he slotted into her life like a puzzle piece, and filled every lonely, longing gap in her heart. From the moment she'd met him she'd felt complete.

"I fell the same way about you" Adam replied, his tone matching hers.

The pair stared at eachother without saying a word for a minute or so. It was clear that the two of them were feeling slightly nervous, the air was filled with electricity and with every second the atmosphere grew more and more intense, as is every single atom in the room were willing the pair toward eachother. The tension building, and building, like a wave about to crest, rising rapidly, until it finally breaks.

The gap between y/n's and Adam's lips was no more. Adam's eager hands ran through y/n's hair, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. The kiss was gentle, yet charged and desperate at the same time. It seemed to last an eternity, but eternity just didn't seem long enough. The universe had been working hard to achieve this kiss, it seemed, almost as if some external force had perfectly planned the sequence of events leading up to this very moment. It was nothing short of magical.

When the Adam and y/n finally pulled away to catch their breaths, they started lovingly into eachother's eyes.

"Is now a good time to mention I kinda have a thing for you?" Adam chuckled breathlessly.

"Funny you mention that, I was gonna say the same thing" y/n joked back sarcastically, before pulling Adam back into another kiss.

The pair made love that night, it was romantic and hungry, neither of them able to contain their love for eachother any longer, and once it was over, they lay breathtaken in Adam's bed, curled up with one another in absolute bliss.

A/n thank you for all the support on this story so far! I'm really happy everyone seems to be enjoying it <3

Comment to be tagged in part 4

Replies and reblogs are much appreciate because I love hearing what people have to say about my fics

Requests are open! I'm looking to wrote some Adam one shots, so definitely ask if you have any ideas! Check my pinned post for details and masterlist <3

[anxsity]

holy shit that arena is empty lmao. though 10 would've been nice ill take this

4.9 ⭐ / 5 ⭐

they lost last game and carbery yelled at them, so they had to come out swinging now. i love carbery. but holy shit i have to look up the names of all the goal scorers. we got ovi x2 my goat my king the loml. gretzkys getting killed this season and i need to plan an appropriate celebration now. also, the mini goat, cmm x2. that man is on a whole nother level this season and i fucking love it. best connor in the league PERIOD. dewey with a goal he deserved, sandy being hot, sgarbs after just being called up, and chychrun in his first game back from injury. holy shit. and stromer???? being ovis boy toy??? more likely than you think. AND LT MY GOD- THOSE SAVES WERE GODLIKE- this game was fucking amazing and i love when we play with a PURPOSE. also loved the mics picking up deweys "FUCK"s that was fun

[ilkkawhat]

i'm drunk enough to think about nick again (not that it like, hurts to think about him anymore i think that heartbreak is solved) and godDAMMN they really buried a man alive on network television and then went the extra mile to make him get EATEN ALIVE AND then almost k*ll himself and WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE to watch this in an IMAX theater, being buried alive is the ultimate Horror Trope for me and it happened on the one character that takes the cake, that changed my life forever like there has been characters that have impacted my life that i think made me better as a person but nick stokes is on a whole nother fucking level and it all started with this episode where he gets kidnapped and buried and i distinctly remember what it was like watching it for the first time, knowing that he survives cause he obviously shows up in episodes after this one and i started watching csi with re-runs of season 4 on spike tv but also the live season 6 finale where nick was clearly okay and cracking jokes even at a scene about severed heads (god bless him) but one day spike tv showed this episode and i stomped into the living room after part 1 ended almost yelling at my dad like ARE YOU KIDDING ME HOW DOES HE SURVIVE THAT BUT HE'S NICK FUCKING STOKES SO OF COURSE HE DOES AND i've never been that close to the knife or bullet in my life but have had..............idealiziations myself and sometimes, just sometimes, i remember how he was at the end of his rope, he waited until the last fucking second like think of a fucking saw trap he would fucking dominate that because he's nick stokes and he doesn't give up, he doesn't believe in past lives cause he's just fucking trying to get through this one and he's been though so fucking much between the fucking babysitter and stalker and gunpoint and being buried alive? ok yeah just another day in the office for him, he fights like hell, he resists his own temptations, he has so much belief in his co-workers, his mentor aka former boss that they'll find him that he hangs on for almost 24 hours in this goddamn coffin designed to torture him, sure, he can stay alive with the provided fan (something that honestly this year, i've have instilled myself when i go to bed) but the fan's gonna die and can they find him before that fan runs out? not fucking likely but TV magic unbeknownst to him they DO cause otherwise lmao nick stokes woulda died in the season 5/15 finale and i probably would have stopped right there even though grissom was my fav at first NICK STOKES STOLE MY HEART and even in my darkest hours i'll think of him, as if a ghostly image of him shows up in the mirror, "i survived why can't you?" motherfucker this is mY BOY stronger than any character i've ever related to--obviously nick and i have had different lives and he's so much stronger and better than me in so many ways but i guess he's what i aspire to be (albeit with a bit less...ignorance but nick is def the type who like. learns his lesson, he matures out of old prejudices which i admire SO MUCH of him) and i don't think i could have had such a strong role model in my formative years cause i started watching csi in 7th grade cause a real forensic scientist came to our school and of course, mentioned how CSI was not real but it piqued my curiosity and it possibly sparked my interest in horror to a degree cause my first episode was a horrifically bloated body (4x02 to be exact, assume nothing nick) and as a 7th grader up until that point even though 9/11 had passed (i was in like. 4th/5th grade that point) i guess i didn't know how cruel people could be but nick showed and continues to show me that people have the capactity of enduring the worst horrors this world can inflict on a person and they can still come out on top, they can still be the hero, they can still save themselves as well as others and FUCK man i miss nick stokes

[lesbianboyfriend]

another nugget to consider for your sexual violence Buffy thesis:

In season 7, episode 8, we find out Spike has been killing and siring people. The official count is 10 women and then just however many men we see in the basement.

obviously the show has compared a vampires bite to sexual violence before so this is an instance where Buffy has given a second chance to the man who tried to rape her and there are now 10 dead women around him. And Buffy gives him another chance even after that.

in the story, he doesn't know what he's doing and is being influenced by the first evil but I think there's still a lot of messy messaging in how Buffy keeps this man alive despite his body count. She can forgive him all she wants but he repeatedly demonstrates how he is a danger to the women around him

okay you’re so right. spike occupies such a massive place within the sexual violence thesis. he’s the character that looms the largest as someone the audience is supposed to like while also being explicitly named as a perpetrator of sexual violence. + the whole vampirism as sexual predation thing is like, a key part of the thesis

now i think the scenario with season 7 is kind of like i mentioned in the original sexual violence post, spike has a soul now. ergo, he cannot (by the show’s logic) still be a perpetrator of such violence bc he’s #good now. and of course, there is the first evil to be reckoned with as a factor in it. which is i think where they get back to the, “see, the sexual violence this guy did was because of some intrinsic monstrous evil” once again cementing sexual violence in the realm of monstrosity instead of actually grappling with it.

to be honest this is where i think angel season 5 ALMOST did something really interesting with spike. we know that angel as a person and tv show operates under the realm of, trying to make up for what you did as a vampire despite the fact that it “wasn’t their fault” so to say. it reckons with those acts of (sexual) violence as something intrinsically horrible regardless of “fault”and asks the perpetrators to truly reckon with their actions and past…..kind of. as we’ll see

and like, spike’s whole thing is that he only really became good because of buffy. and he thinks because of that he intrinsically “deserves” buffy (which is a whole nother level connected to sexual violence as system imo). and BECAUSE he has a soul, he doesn’t actually have to grapple with what “good” means, because that’s not how it works in the buffy moral universe. but then angel season 5 separates him from buffy. and asks him to be good WITHOUT reward. WITHOUT the promise of buffy. particularly with him as a ghost, only able to manipulate the world if he wants it enough. and we see him “wanting” it in moments where he’s trying to do good!!! just for good’s sake!!!

……and then they reintroduce the fucking shansu prophecy and spike compares his/angel’s atrocities to a scared girl lashing out at her oppressors and they go to rome and try to separate buffy from her new boyfriend and all over again we see him (and angel!!!!) still having that sense of ownership over buffy, that they somehow “deserve” her for being good. and that while they may be reckoning with their pasts for being “bad” they don’t actually fully understand the system of (sexual) violence that their actions took place within. so they don’t understand or grapple with how they’re still upholding those systems. so kind of a flop there!!! but for a brief second i thought angel season 5 was doing something really cool. should have known better i guess

but yeah saying this all as a spike fan. an enjoyer of spikebuffy. the narrative does NOT at all reckon with his position as perpetrator of sexual violence and honestly the show and his character arc suffer for that. and quite frankly the fans who refuse to acknowledge it as part of his character are deeply annoying. lol. lmao even

[whilomm]

hey listen guys I know its hard to hear but you dont have to say Trump Cheated to point out the problems w this election

Yeah theres tons of votes being thrown out, but that doesnt mean the trump campaign was doing shady backroom deals or anything, it means that this country has places where its set up so that its way too easy to throw votes out for tiny reasons, and its been set up like that for a while. this isnt a new issue Caused By Trump Personally this is existing problem. yes, if you voted by mail or anything, make sure your vote went through and cure it if needed cause those could have massive effects downballot, but dont conspiracize about it, its just your average everyday voter suppression in this bitch of a country.

ideally they would give voters more time to cure ballots for legit issues (like signature mismatch, which yeah if u wanna prevent vote theft on mail ins It Is Important) and notify them better (especially in an age where No One Answers Their Phone) but they make the windows tiny because This Country Sucks. the conspiracy is that "wow, america sucks". very surprising, i know.

meanwhile the bomb threats. suspicious as hell, yes. needs to be investigated, yes. but also they could have come from some random ass maga cunt. I don't know how to tell yall this but some right wing fuckers do in fact love doing a terrorism independently on occasion, no conspiracy needed. now, if it comes out the threats can be directly connected to the campaign somehow? yeah, THEN its direct election interference, and we have to have a whole nother conversation, but realize it could just as easily be some random asshole doing it.

also "the dems lost 15 million votes" theyre still counting. they probably lost votes still, yeah, but you have to wait for them to finish counting to see how many. some of the states still counting like california lean heavy dem so like, the gaps gonna lower at least a bit probs. looking now its more like 10 mil gap. dunno how much thatll change, but neither do you yet. shut up with the numbers til you actually Have The Numbers. the full postmortem cant come til you actually have the body all here to dissect.

unfortunately yall i think half of american voters are just fucking stupid ass cunts who are easily swayed by shit like "egg prices" and "gas prices", and the dems massively failed every step of the way on that front (biden didnt do enough to combat price gouging when it happened, biden still decided to run knowing how fucking unpopular he was with everyone from rightwingers to checked the fuck out normies to leftists and despite barely being able to string a sentence together and then waiting until so fucking late in the race to finally drop out, the dems usual noncommital ass messaging and refusal to take strong stances on shit bit them in the ass once again...)

no, chances are from how its looking right now, trump won, no conspiracy needed. Some of its the rabid maga crowd yeah, but also some of its probs the normie ass checked out average levels of misogyny people who dont even realize their "feelings" about how trump just seems like a "stronger leader" are 100% "he is man therefore strong", some of its people who genuinely fucking vote based on shit like name recognition and had to google "did joe biden drop out". the average american is unfortunately oftentimes a fucking idiot who doesnt pay attention to goddamn anything beyond how their personal finances were these past 4 years, and dems didnt do enough to energize the voting base of people who actually do pay some attention to get them over that gap.

They couldnt get the checked out normies, they didnt even bother with the people who pay attention, and they massively goddamn fucked up.

Theres no one single thing to blame here, the whole thing is a massive messy shit stew. a million things that could have been done, including shit that should have been done over a decade ago by the dems when they really had power, but this country fucking sucks so.

[ceilidho]

I put ghost's height on this height comparison website and screamed. Like the height difference was one thing but I just fucking know he's THICCCCCCCC everywhere else. This man is wide and broad and I'm down bad

oh yeah the thought makes me lightheaded tbh like I’d be CRANING my head up to look at him. being around him probably leaves you feeling sooooo on edge just like this constant awareness of a huge man in the room with you (the mask being just a whole nother level of fucked up)

[unabashedly-so]

🌹SDV Elliott HC 💃

Content warning: Americanized contexts ahead. 😅 Not pigeonholing SDV as American but I'm using Americanized regionalisms because that's the language I have to communicate I'm trying to portray. 🤷‍♀️

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

It takes a high heart level and a moderate intoxication level to bring it out, BUT Elliott has had years of ballroom dance under his belt.

I'm imagining a southern old-money style upbringing for him (subject to change) and he started being trained in different dances bc he was involved in whatever the male version of debutantes is.

he wasn't big into it at the time but yknow mommy issues he was a diligent well-mannered young man so he learned enough to pass by.

enter university and Prince Slut (freshman year) is finding all kinds of ways to get the tender physical touch and affection he craved as a child make friends and finds the uni's ballroom dance club

his foundation of skill and reputation make him insanely popular within the club so it becomes a genuinely healthy outlet for him.

he never takes it seriously in terms of competition; he's just there to have fun and make his partner shine but you KNOW he's flaunting and flexing along the way, like executing daring moves with his partner, showboating, getting so overly sultry with it, etc.

he gets so many numbers and so much ass whenever he goes out, it's upsetting.

anyway tl;dr he spends so much time on that and other social activities in college that he barely passes most of his classes and it's actually a huge regret of his but that's a whole 'nother post

he stops dancing after uni for the most part as he has to reprioritize his life

but that doesn't mean that he lets it go, oh no.

get enough drinks in this man and enough room to move and he's 10years younger ready to sweep anyone off their feet.

He'll trot with the foxes, swing from one coast to another, cha-cha real smooth, give him tequila and he'll give you salsa, etc etc

of fucking course he can waltz but like 1) ya Basic, and 2) dinner and a movie first (and let's make it Viennese, for the love of Yoba)

he'd much rather rumba or tango tbh but only with someone he really cares about. poor boy'll catch feelings quick rocking hips like that.

which like. alternate ending to the 6heart scene has him inviting you to dance with him to blow off some steam. nothing too stilted or sensual, just an easy swing or something so he can move and move you and maybe even give you a twirl if you're so inclined 😉

(at 8hearts and above he's twirling you, dipping you, and rocking you on his hips during wrap-ins 🥴🥴 you've also unlocked private rumba, tango, and waltzes with him, and boy is it getting humid in this seaside cabin 🥵🥵)

it does take getting him at least buzzed to bring it out, but he has no shame once it's out, so it's like an open secret in Pelican town that he'll show anyone who's a good sport a good time

EXCEPT.

(and this is a big one)

he's so fucking judgey about what music people choose to dance to.

full on Big Sassy Gay energy.

"oh you want to slow dance to [Ed Sheeran]? yeah I remember being in middle school too."

"*Thinking Out Loud playing* is this the wedding song where people teeter back and forth like two rickety sideways rocking chairs with room for Yoba in between because your grandma's watching for three straight minutes? ...no yeah it's fine. I mean to their credit it probably functions as their run through for the consummation later too so good for them I guess"

*I Won't Give Up playing* "if you need to dance to a song where someone else declares how you're So Definitely going to be together forever, I'm sorry but I give it two years tops." "Elliott, this was Haley and Alex's song." "I said what I said. Next."

"*dramatic sigh* just because you can mathematically fit a 5 step into a 4/4 doesn't mean you can or should turn any bubblegum pop song about casual sex into a tango. It's NOT about sensuality, it's about THE CONFLICT THEREIN."

just take him home at this point. 😅 no one understands what he's saying but they know it's probably insulting.

anyway fast forward to domestic bliss and he's regularly pulling you in to show you how happy you make him

he's definitely singing any lines he thinks fit you under his breath while he dances with you. He'll bring you in close and murmur them into your ear or kiss them into your neck if he's got bedroom thoughts. 🌹

[dearest-painter]

YOU KNOW THOSE LIKE ATSV TWEET TREND?!

ITS SO FUNNY AND I HAVE A IDEA!

OK SO THAT AND ANOMALY O’HARA!READER POST A TWEET SAYING

“Ngl this dude name Hobie is very chill. I like him👍”. AND A PIC WITH THEM AND HOBIE IN HIS WORLD ON A TALL BUILDING AND MIGUEL REPLIES TO IT SAYING “..Hermosa? Is that you?” AND MAYBE LYLA OR SOMEONE ELSE WOULD REPLY WITH “Father and daughter meet and greet goes a whole nother level”

OMFG I CAN SEE IT!

Hobie:Fuck off old man

Anomaly O’Hara!Reader:Bitch don’t call him my dad, he lost that title to Camilo. That whore ain’t my father after he left me IN A DAMN ALLEYWAY ALL MY LIFE!

Hobie:DAMN! YOU A BAD FATHER! LOSING YOUR DAUGHTER AND OTHER KID!? FUCKING SUCK!

42!Miles:Y/N, mama made food and said if you wanted you could bring your friend

Anomaly O’Hara!Reader:HELL YEAH MOMS COOKING! HOBIE YOUR COMING WITH ME!

Hobie:YES CAPTAIN!

Miguel:thought you hated authority figured

Hobie:Don’t believe in being consistent…plus it’s Y/N