#hope the meaning is semi-clear. but i also feel like it's right for it to be difficult to access without the surrounding environmental

[lotus-tower]

one of my friends organized a yaoizine and the digital version went live today so i'm uploading my entry for it! the central question of the zine as "what yaoi changed your life?"and most people wrote extremely awesome essays. i wish i could link it here but i just don't feel comfortable since a lot of the essays are pretty personal. but anyway here's my entry :)

[thehusbandoden]

Lashing Out -Husband!Bakugo Katsuki x Wife!Reader

A/n: hope this is okay? Don't be afraid to leave feedback <3 Also I didn't know what to do for the title... gosh this sucks T^T

General info: Genre: angst to fluff/angst to comfort \\ wc: 1,270 \\ fem reader \\ posted: 03/19/24

Warnings!: angst, hurt, partner being harsh, partner being insensitive, crying, passive reader, mean Bakugo, and lashing out. I think that's all, pls let me know if I missed any!

You perk up as the front door opens, revealing your toned hubby. You giggle excitedly, your cheeks heating up and butterflies forming in your stomach from the sight of your beloved. It’s been three years since you said, “I do”, and yet you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again when your eyes met his attractive frame and familiar warm eyes.  

Bakugo, however, didn’t seem as excited to see you. He lets out a sigh as you wrap your arms around him, slinging an arm around one of your shoulders half-heartedly before semi-gently pushing you off him as he closed the door.  

You frown but shake it off. He must have had a hard day, right? It would be better to just be supportive and tone the affection down a bit. You follow him like a shadow as he takes his gauntlets off, dropping them to the floor. He strips his mask, neckpiece, and gloves off before slumping onto the couch.  

You gently take his combat boots off, pulling his socks off and grabbing some lotion. He must be exhausted and sore from work, maybe a foot massage would help? You lovingly begin to massage his sore feet, shyly looking up at him every once and a while. He doesn’t respond, keeping his face buried in his pillow.  

You continue to gently massage his feet as he lays on the couch mindlessly. Your fingernail grazes part of his foot, causing him to hiss and yank back, glaring down at you. “What are you doing?” He growls, shooting you a look of anger and... disgust.  

“I-I was massaging your feet baby. You seem to be having a hard time so I-”  

“Quit it. I’m not your baby, quite treating me like one. I don’t need you to coddle me. Go do something useful for once and leave me alone.” He spits, shooting you one last glare before darting off the couch and into your shared bedroom, slamming the door. 

You feel tears sting your eyes, but you shake your head, refusing to let them fall. You gingerly stand up, putting Bakugo’s hero gear away. You pick up the house for a while before sighing. You step up to your bedroom door and gently knock.  

“Ba- Katsuki? Can I come in?” You hear a grunt, not a clear yes or no.  

You step inside quietly, walking up to your husband in bed. He was staring up at the ceiling with a snarl etched on his handsome face. 

“What’s wrong, love? You know you can talk to me, right?” You murmur, placing your hand on his. He yanks his hand from yours, breaking the skin-on-skin contact. Your heart throbs in your chest, but you don’t push. 

“I’m having a hard day. Don’t make it worse for me.” He grumbles, turning away from you.  

“Did you eat?” You sigh, biting your lip in worry.  

Bakugo growls softly as he glares at you. “Quit nagging me and leave me be. Get out of my face, woman.”  

Your heart throbs harder against your chest as you feel tears sting your eyes. You nod quickly, looking at the floor so he doesn’t catch sight of your fragile emotional state.  

“I’m going to go to bed, do you still want me out of here?” You murmur gently. Bakugo groans, glaring harshly at you. 

“Yes! Get out of my hair! How many times do I need to repeat myself to you!?” You stand up as your heart throbs again. You quickly leave the room, causing Bakugo to huff in annoyance.  

Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you check the doors to make sure they’re locked, turn off the lights, and quickly get ready for bed. You brush your teeth and grab an extra blanket. You didn’t have pajamas out here, and you didn’t want to disturb your tired husband, so you just laid in the smaller bed, trying to get comfortable without the familiar heat of your beloved next to you. 

After tossing and turning for quite a while, you give up on sleep. Sighing, you hold yourself as you try to stop the tears. You know he’s just having a hard day, but it doesn’t make the throbbing in your chest lessen. You cradle a pillow close to your chest, hugging it tightly as you desperately try to not let any tears fall. 

His harsh words flash in your mind as you try to drown them out. 

One tear slides down your cheek. 

The way he addressed you as “woman”, as if you weren’t anything but an object. 

A second follows the first, the third swiftly following suit.  

How harsh he was with you. It was like you were a coworker or past classmate, not his wife. Much less the woman he had spent loving, courting, and cherishing since the second year of high school. 

The fourth, fifth, and sixth tear drop down your cheeks, causing the gates to crumble as multitudes of tears slip down your cheek, gathering at your chin before dripping onto your pillow.  

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stay quiet. You fight with yourself for a few moments before coming to a conclusion... what’s the point? He’s upset with you no matter what you do... so why hold it in? Why bottle up your feelings?  

A choked sob slips past your lips, tears quickening at your frustration for allowing yourself to make a sound. A second sob follows the first, and yet a third and fourth join your desperate cry for help.  

You feel yourself falling apart, just above the brink. You rock yourself back and forth, sobbing into your hand. You feel like you’re about to drown... and then it all stops. A warm hand gently touches your shoulder, a soft, familiar voice sounding in your ears.  

”Baby?”

A soft gasp falls from your lips, temporarily being drawn from your sorrow as your eyes meet crimson glory. Bakugo looks down at you in worry, quickly coming closer. He gingerly presses a hand to your upper arm in concern.  

Your tears bubble up as you try to contain your emotions, unable to speak. 

“Y/n baby... I-I don’t know what to say...” he mumbles, his hand finding it’s place on your head.  

“S-Suki...” you blubber out, the tears slipping. Bakugo’s crimson eyes burn with guilt as he wraps his arms around you, gently lifting you into his arms, like he first did as he brought you home from your joyous wedding.  

“Shhh it’s alright.” He murmurs in your ear, bringing you to your shared bedroom, laying you down on your bed. It was larger and much more comfortable. He quickly joins you, wrapping you into his hold and he whispers sweet things into your ear, an arm wrapped around you, a hand on your stomach and the other on your head, slowly petting your hair.  

You sniffle, trying to hold it in as you cling to the man you love more than anything. “Shh let it out baby. Let it all out.” Bakugo murmurs in your ear, pressing a loving kiss to your temple.  

You attempt to hold it in for a few more seconds before finally breaking, sobbing into your husband’s chest as you clench his shirt tightly. He caresses your head and back, kissing your endless tears away as he coos at you.  

“Jerk.” You sob, holding onto him tighter.  

“I know baby, I know. I’m sorry honey.” He mumbles against your skin, holding you a little tighter.  

Bakugo Katsuki was not one to apologize, but he would do anything for his beloved wifey.  

~~~~~

Bakugo's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[gabgabwrites]

DEUCE | Art Donaldson & Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ Art has been so stressed about his match coming up against his ex best friend and denies it completely, you’ve begged and begged him to relax before he agrees, until someone interrupts.

warnings ⇝ language, unestablished? relationship, kissing, smut! 3sum, softdom!art, mean!patrick, oral (M & F), masturbation (M), handjob, cum eating, spitting, rough sex, unprotected sex, riding, spanking, minor ass play, groping, scratching, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, not much aftercare, mdni.

read part 2 here

note: this one is a little 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓎 also is shorter than most of my fanfics, more porn than plot

Tomorrow Art would be playing against Patrick Zweig, his old time best friend and part time rival. Art told you he didn't worry for his match, but you saw the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion and the bags under his eyes grew darker. You told him to take a sleeping pill when he slept but he said he was getting enough hours of sleep, you had to act like you didn't feel him constantly moving around at night, tossing and turning.

"Art, I really think you should relax today. I can book you an appointment with a masseuse to help your muscles, or, y'know, you could sleep," You chewed on your bottom lip after telling him this, Art sighed, stopping his upper body exercises in the small gym.

"It's fine, honey. I'm fine. I feel totally relaxed," He gave you a tight lipped smile before he picked up the orange resistance band and began to pull at it. You watched his eyes glaze over in focus before sighing yourself, pushing off the wall and leaving the room.

You knew better than to press further. Art was stubborn and determined, traits that made him both a fantastic athlete and a frustrating partner at times. You loved him dearly, but his single-minded dedication to his sport often left little room for self-care. As you walked away, you couldn't help but worry about the toll this match against Patrick was taking on him.

The evening passed slowly. You busied yourself with mundane tasks, trying to keep your mind off Art's impending match. The air in your shared apartment felt thick with unspoken concerns. Art, still in his workout gear, moved from one exercise to another, the rhythmic sounds of his routine creating a steady background noise. You watched him from the kitchen, your heart aching for the man who pushed himself so hard.

When dinner time rolled around, you called out to him, "Art, dinner's ready." He nodded, wiping sweat from his brow before making his way to the table. You had prepared his favorite meal, hoping it would bring some comfort.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he said, sitting down and picking at his food. You could tell his mind was elsewhere, probably on tomorrow's match and the strategies he needed to employ.

"You're really worried about this, aren't you?" you asked softly, trying to meet his eyes.

Art sighed, finally setting his fork down. "It's not that I'm worried, exactly. It's just... Patrick and I, we go way back. This isn't just another match. There's a lot of history there."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I know. But you can't keep pushing yourself like this. You're going to burn out."

"I know you're right," he admitted, squeezing your hand. "But I can't help it. I need to be at my best."

"I understand," you said gently. "But you need to take care of yourself too. How about we go for a walk after dinner? Get some fresh air, clear your mind?"

Art considered it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

After dinner, the two of you strolled through the nearby park, the cool evening air a welcome change from the stuffy apartment. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot was soothing, and for a while, neither of you spoke. It was enough to just be together.

Eventually, Art broke the silence. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, pursuing this career so intensely."

You looked at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's all-consuming. I love it, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on other things. Important things."

You stopped walking, turning to face him. "Art, you have a passion and a talent that's incredible. But it's okay to have doubts. It's okay to want more than just your career."

He looked down, his expression thoughtful. "I just don't want to let anyone down. Not my team, not my fans... not you."

"You could never let me down," you said firmly. "I love you for who you are, not for what you achieve. And I'm here for you, no matter what."

Art pulled you into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of your head. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

The walk seemed to have done some good, and by the time you returned home, Art appeared more relaxed. He took a long shower while you prepared some chamomile tea, hoping it would help him sleep better. When he emerged, you handed him a cup, and he accepted it gratefully.

"Let's try to get some good rest tonight, okay?" you suggested, leading him to the bedroom. He nodded, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

As you both settled into bed, you reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. The room was plunged into darkness, the only sounds the faint hum of the city outside and Art's steady breathing.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

"I love you too," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "We'll get through this, together."

That night, Art's restlessness seemed to ease. He still shifted occasionally, but there was a sense of calm that hadn't been there before. You stayed close, your presence a steady anchor in the turbulent sea of his thoughts.

The next morning, you woke to find Art already up, dressed in his gear and looking more focused than he had in days. There was a determined glint in his eye that made you believe he was ready for the match.

"Feeling better?" you asked, stretching and sitting up.

"Yeah," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I think I am."

"Good. I'll be cheering for you," You said, giving him an encouraging kiss. You grabbed his racket and headed for his car. Once there, you packed all his equipment in the back. He drove the car this time, to the stadium. You two had gotten there earlier, for many reasons like him relaxing before the match and for him to get last minute practice.

He told you he was going to the sauna for an hour or so, you told him you'd wait outside, on the small bench as you decided to flip through a magazine. As Art headed towards the sauna, you found a small bench outside and settled down with a magazine. The warm, humid air from the sauna seeped out, creating a comfortable ambiance despite the anticipation buzzing in your mind.

Flipping through the magazine, you tried to distract yourself with celebrity gossip and fashion trends, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Art and the upcoming match. You couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at your insides, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the glossy pages in front of you.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as you anxiously waited. You checked your watch every few minutes, unable to shake off the nervous energy that pulsed through you. Finally, just as you were starting to wonder if you should check on him, the sauna door creaked open, and Art emerged, white towel around his waist, his muscles shiny with sweat and his blonde hair darker and sticking to his forehead.

He called your name, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. You looked up from the magazine, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. "Yes?" you asked, your voice coming out softer than intended, laced with a hint of curiosity and a touch of anticipation.

He licked his top lip, his gaze scanning the room briefly before locking onto yours. "I realised I really do need to relax," he admitted with a sigh, pondering how to phrase his next request. "Come here, please?" His voice was soft yet tinged with a hint of longing, inviting you closer with a subtle urgency that stirred something deep within you.

You swallowed, placing the magazine neatly next to the pile of his disregarded clothes on the bench, before standing up and slowly walking towards him. "Yes?" His forefinger found the neckline of your shirt and hooked inside, before abruptly pulling you in making you yelp out in surprise. "Art?!"

"Shh-h-h, someone could hear you," He waited for you to stand up straight, after nearly being curb stomped by the sauna bench and turning to face him. His voice dropped to speak softer. "Help me relax?"

"Art, I-I don't—," The words got caught in your throat when you felt him pick up your hand and gently kiss your fingertips, lips moving to graze over each knuckle before they were on your wrist. "Anyone could walk in."

"They won't," he murmured against your skin, his lips lightly grazing the soft flesh of your forearm. "Please?" His plea was soft and earnest, his voice laced with vulnerability. You let out a gentle sigh, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin, before tenderly moving your hand from his lips to cup his jaw.

"Only because it's getting hot in here," You smirked, Art's eyes shone at your words before his fingers moved to help you peel away your shirt that was becoming damp with moisture. He waited until you were fully undressed, clothes a disregardment, scattered around on the bamboo floor, before kissing you.

Your body was still somewhat dry while Art's was slippery against yours, dewy with sweat. His one hand cradled the back of your neck as you pushed your tongue between his lips, happily obliging to feel you against him. He let out a groan, signalling he wanted more, he needed more. Using little control, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed down on them, forcing you to sit on the bench.

Your lips broke apart before Art smashed them together again. Your fingers went to the white, fluffy towel and began to pull at it, falling apart to reveal his cock, hard and pulsing. "You really are needy?" You murmured, Art whimpered to ensure your questions.

You pressed a hand against his pec, letting it slither down and collect little moisture before your fingers found the tufts of hair below his belly button, following the trail until you reached his cock, wrapping your fingers around the base and slowly pumping your fist.

Art let a gasp, swallowing his moan at your actions. "Sit down, Art," You told him, he basically threw himself down, now kissing you shoulder to shoulder, your hand wrapped around his cock while his left hand squeezed at your thigh and his right curling at his side. "This helping?"

"Yeah, mmm, yes," He groaned, slowly but surely failing to kiss back as you squeezed his cock harder, making his mind go fuzzy. "Please don't stop."

His head fell back, lips parting as he panted and moaned, the crown of his head resting on the wall. Your lips took action down the column of his throat, tongue lapping up at his sweat. You sucked a path down to his shoulder, before allowing your teeth to graze the skin there.

"Art, I want to ride you," You said softly.  Art was quick to shift his hips, snapping out a trance so you could slide onto his lap.

His fingers flew to your arousal, massaging at your aching clit to get your hole to relax. "That feels good."

Your fingers pumped his cock still, only at a slower pace. It twitched and throbbed, especially when the pads of his fingers moved and found your hole, feeling you drip onto his fingers. His eyebrows drew together in focus, fingertips breaching your pussy, sinking into it.

You ignored the initial pain of the stretch, humping your hips to sink onto him further. His fingers worked faster to relax your hole before they pulled out, too eager to have you around his length. He grabbed his cock and nudged the pink tip at your entrance, feeling your hands stabilise yourself on his shoulders, and drop onto him, both letting out a moan.

You bent your legs, for leverage, hips bucking into his to get friction while his hands grasped your hips. "You feel so good around me," He gasped. You nodded at his words, lips finding solace on his skin again to kiss his flesh.

It was pure bliss between the two of you, in the warm, sweaty room. Moans and wet sounds bouncing off the walls.

The door suddenly ripped open, a gush of cold air fanned your back. Your head whipped around to see what it was, or rather, who it was; Patrick Zweig, standing in all his naked glory.

Your hips didn't stop their movements, even though Art stiffened at the intrusion. A wicked grin cracked on Patrick's face at the sigh. "Huh. World renowned tennis star getting fucked like a whore in the men's sauna before a big game," Patrick whistled. "Who would've guessed?"

"G-Get out, Zweig," Art said, words stuttering from pleasure.

"No, no. I don't think so. I think I'll just sit here and enjoy the show," You watched him sink down onto the opposite side of the room, brown eyes looking from your face that never left his view, to where you and Art were connected at the hips. He couldn't help the stiffening feeling between his legs, not caring for his cock to slowly harden, and out in the open.

Perhaps you should've stopped and ran out in shame. Perhaps Art should have begged you to stop instead on having his fingers dig deeper into your hips, his own bucking up into yours. Perhaps you should've looked away when you saw Patrick take his own cock in hand and fist it, matching the same pace you fucked Art.

Perhaps it was all the reason you came too quickly, mouth falling open as moans tumbled from your lips, getting Art's thighs coated in your cum. You felt him curl up, his own high nearing. He slammed you down on his cock, before filling you up.

"Aw man," Patrick chuckled, though it was slow and rugged with lust. "The show’s over and I barely started jerking off." He sighed, throwing his hand up, no longer touching himself.

You turned to tuck your head between Art's neck. Panting from your labour. "What do we do?" You whispered to him.

"Wait until he leaves."

He did not. In fact, you heard the floorboards creak with Patrick's weight, until you felt a presence behind you. "Hey, Art," Patrick spoke. "You gonna move over so I can try her?"

Your heart dropped, at first in surprise before your mind mulled over scenarios. Art's eyes shot up and glared at Patrick, who just stood there and smirked. "Excuse me?"

"C'mon, man. It's not like it's the first time we shared her," Patrick had to bring up the one night you three shared in college, the one you never spoke about again. You didn't hate that night, in fact you used to think about it often, but Patrick grew to become a major prick thereafter, forcing you to forget about it.

Art stayed silent, until he sighed. Using his hands, he moved you to look at him. "You can tell him no."

You took in a breath, chewing on your bottom lip. You stared into Art's eyes, looking, searching for any sort of plead, or hesitation, but got none. Did he want to share you? Would he be willing to? "I don't mind," You whispered. "But if you don't want to, then we don't."

Art pried his eyes away from you to stare at Patrick, a multitude of emotions, ones that didn't look all too pleasant. "Only this once."

Patrick let out a grumble through his chest, happy you two agreed. Perhaps it would change the way on court.  "You got it, hermano," Patrick slipped a hand on your shoulder, pulling you off Art's lap to stand, back pressing against his chest.

His one arm was wrapped around your shoulders while the other was snaking it's way down, tips of his fingers brushing along your tummy in the ticklish area that had it convulse, until they pressed into your pussy, collecting the residue from both you and Art. When he was satisfied with what was gathered on his fingers, he brought them to his lips and let out a groan at the taste of both of you.

"It tastes so good. You should try," He don't give you time to protest before reaching down to collect more cum before shoving his fingers in your mouth, having you choke and sputter until your tongue licked away at the salty liquids. "God, if that's the way you suck my fingers then I can't wait until I feel you suck my cock."

His fingers left your lips, hand moving down to grope your left breast, squeezing at the flesh.

"Tell me something, Art. How rough do you fuck her—ooh no wait, how rough does she fuck herself on you?" Patrick asked, eyes flirting to Art who just glared at the brunette, knuckles paling as he gripped the bench. Patrick smirked at the silence he got, from both ends.

He roughly grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, he clicked his tongue in fake pity.

"Poor thing, not treated right?"

"I'm treated just fine," You told him. "Thanks."

"Hm, we'll see." Patrick basically threw you forward, hands seizing your wrists behind your back, having you at a near 90 degree angle, face close to Art's. Patrick used his foot to nudge open your legs. You felt the tip of his cock brush your folds, before he abruptly shoved his entire length inside you, he wasn't as long as Art, but he was more girthy.

Your face screwed in pain, giving you no time to adjust before his hips snapped against yours, fucking into you at light speed. "O-Oh, fuck," You whined, head falling forward from pleasure.

"That's what I thought. Needed someone to fuck you right," Patrick chuckled, taking one hand and slapping your ass, making you howl in pain. Patrick's brown eyes found Art's, who was still glaring at him, yet he had a blush on his cheeks. Patrick smirked. "Take notes."

"If you only fucked her to be an asshole, then you can stop." Art growled, anger sizzling in his chest.

"Nope, just doing it correctly." Patrick nearly fell forwards when he saw a sliver of movements on Art's end. His tongue swiping to wet his bottom lip as he gave Art a shit eating grin. "You bastard. You getting off to watching your old best friend fuck your girl? Dirty, dirty boy."

Gasps and moans clashed in your throat, getting the strength in your neck to look up where Art was, indeed, fisting his cock. Your mouth salivating at the sight. "L-Let me help," You stammered out, letting your lips fall open. Art gently grabbed your head and positioned it lower, sighing when he felt your tongue lap out and lick his tip.

It was so contrasting, the way Patrick was manhandling you, tip nudging that one sweet spot deep within you while his fingers slapped, scratched and groped your ass and Art's gentle caresses on your hair. It was like heaven and hell, all in a sauna, perhaps you were limbo.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby. I'm so close, gonna let me cum deep in your pussy?" Patrick moaned. Words slurred from drunken pleasure.

"Patrick—." Art warned, a damn near growl escaping his chest.

"Nuh uh, man. I can't pull out now."

"Patrick—."

"Fuck!" Patrick moaned, his movements sloppy as he spilled his seed inside you. Panting as he caught his breath.

He was quick to pull out before dropping to his knees. He grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them apart before he dove his face inside, tongue rolling against your clit.

His own cum spilling from you and onto his nose and top lip. That man ate you out like a starved man.

Art's hips jerked before he was cumming in your mouth, fingers tightening slightly in your hair as your name fell from his lips.

"Gonna cum," You moaned, words coming out unclear as your mouth was still full of Art's cum. You couldn't get the energy to swallow, it slowly dribbled out your mouth, along with your drool and back onto Art's cock, Art couldn't lie and say it wasn't one of the hottest things he's seen, not even phased that you didn't swallow.

Patrick grabbed your hips and pushed you further down onto him, mouth open as you came on his tongue, hips rolling on his face. He swallowed most of it. He stood up, with some of your cum in his mouth and his own spit. His hands still kept your ass spread, pursing his lips, he allowed for the concoction to dribble onto your neglected asshole.

He didn't do anything to penetrate it, only using his forefinger to spread the liquids from your asshole to your pussy, leaving you wet and sticky all over.

Patrick stood back, allowing for you to hobble towards Art and sit down on the bench next to him. "Let's make a bet. If I win, I get to fuck her again."

"Get the fuck out of here," Art spat, grabbing a towel to help clean you. Patrick just chuckled before grabbing his own towel, wrapping it around his hips before pushing the door open and leaving.

Art turned to you, his voice softer.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah," You smiled meekly. "Just promise me this, you'll win."

Anyways, this was inspired by the beautiful sweaty sauna scene:

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: You can read part two here.

Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.

It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.

You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.

"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.

"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.

"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.

While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.

"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.

As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.

"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.

You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.

Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.

"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.

"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.

"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.

"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.

"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."

"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.

"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.

He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.

Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.

Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.

"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.

"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.

"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.

"What? What are you—"

"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."

He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"

He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.

"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.

"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.

"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.

"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.

"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."

"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.

"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.

"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.

"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.

"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."

That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.

You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.

"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."

You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"

"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."

Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.

"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."

You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.

[littlemissmiller]

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

Pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier is your partner while on assignment in Bogotá. You can’t seem to resist him, as much as you tell yourself you’re done fooling around with him. One night, he comes home and the next morning, you finally realize your true feelings for him…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), semi-rough sex, ass slapping, slight power play, dom!javier, sub!reader, oral(m and f receiving), partners/friends to lovers

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: surprise! it’s pedro! i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the tom fics (which i appreciate all the support once again, exceeded my expectations). I had this one in the vault for a while, but just went back and edited it so here it is! i have another billy and coryo fic in the works, but a girl has got to diversify her blog page no? also i do plan to post more pedro stuff (given my blog name 😅)ok enjoy! ❤︎

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“This is the last time Javier.” You panted as Javier Peña pushed you up against the wall of a small janitor’s closet. A frequent place you had found yourself in once again, fucking like teenagers. Everyone had left the office nearly, but you still didn’t want to get caught.

“Yeah you said that last time sweetheart.” He growled into your ear as he readjusted you, hoisting you up further onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and he was fucking up into you. His pants were only down far enough to let his cock out and he continued to push your tight pencil skirt up over your thighs and hips. You moaned into his ear which caused him to pick up his pace.

“I mean it we…we can’t keep doing this.” You moaned as his lips attached to your neck. He smirked and looked back up at you. His hand slithered up your throat and cupped under your chin.

“Really? Is that why you decided to wear this tight little skirt today? To get me to stop?” He panted

“I always wear these…” you lied

“Yeah well what about this blouse then hmm.” His hand slid down your throat to tug on your collar and then slipped inside your blouse to cup your breast.

“You know I can see right through it don’t you?”

“Maybe I was trying to get someone else’s attention…”you croaked out

“Mmm I don’t think so sweetheart. I know other people are looking but they wouldn’t dare to touch you.” He replied

“Why is that?”

“You know why…” he breathed into your ear “because you’re mine…” he picked up his pace and soon enough you were both coming undone.

He held you in place for a while and rested his forehead against yours. You both panted in exhaustion, your breathing in sync. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling out and setting you back on your feet.

“You should grab a drink with me tonight.” He suggested as he stepped back, readjusting himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“Javi…” you sighed, shaking your head and smirking as you buttoned up your blouse “you know my rules…”

Ever since you and Javier started hooking up, you were very explicit about how your relationship would be. You had told him you weren’t looking for a relationship, but he convinced you to be “partners with benefits”.

Your rules were clear. No going out to bars or dinner, no flirting in front of your colleagues, and nothing more than just sex. Those were the rules left anyways. Javier had a way of convincing you to break them. At first, you had told him no hooking up at work, but about two weeks later and one too many tight dresses, you had broken that rule. And the rule not to show physical affection to each other outside of your activities. He couldn’t seem to help himself around you. He would always wait until no one was around, but occasionally he’d plant a kiss on your cheek or come up behind you and plant one on the back of your neck. It would usually turn into more, but occasionally it was just in passing and very quick.

“C’mon we can go as just co-workers. Then it’s not a date”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. You slipped your heels back on and started to fix your hair.

“You know what I told you. I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with you.” You looked at him pointedly and he frowned “besides if you and I get together who else is going to fuck the hookers Escobar likes the have around.” You have joked raising my eyebrow

He rolled his eyes.

“They are informants and I get very useful information from them”

“Oh besides how they like it” you smirked reaching for the door

Javier stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. He looked at you and you looked back at him intensely, snapping your head in surprise and confusion.

“Are you jealous or something?” He asked

“No!” You laughed “besides we get good intel like you said.”

He released your wrist and grunted in agreement. He traced his hand over your own, moving it from your wrist to your finger tip. He moved his fingers around your palm and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“You should still get a drink with me though” he insisted, continuing to stroke your hand. “Hmm…what do you say? He kissed your knuckles this time, which took you off guard but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

A part of you had put these rules in place mainly for yourself. You knew getting tangled up with Javier like this would be trouble and quite frankly a distraction. Maybe you needed a distraction, but with your own partner? Would that really happen? Maybe because you also knew, in the back of your mind, you had deeper feelings at play. You thought about it and, in that moment, you realized you were about to break one of your own rules again.

“Fine.” You started, dropping your hand to your side “just as co-workers thought. This is not a date or anything like a date.”

“Fine by me. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You opened the janitors closet and poked your head out. You looked around and stepped out. Javier followed after you.

“Let’s get going. And separate cars.” You commanded, looking at him seriously

“I figured.”

“Where are we meeting?” You asked

“That bar near your place. The one on the corner next to your apartment.” You answered

Of course he chose somewhere near your place. You thought he was gonna try and take you home with him after. Back to his place. You were wrong. You and him met at the bar and, what ended up being one drink became three, then a cigarette, and your night was pretty much set.

“This ain’t too bad hmm?” He asked

“I don’t mind getting a drink with you Javier. Just the principle of it I…struggle with”

He smirked at your answer “Is that so?” He slid his hand onto your knee which made you almost choke on the beer you were sipping on.

“Javi!” You gritted though my teeth in a low tone

“You said no flirting in front of co-workers or at work. Nothing about outside of work.” He smirked.

“I hope you understand that you’re not coming home with me tonight.” You remark pointedly

“Oh really why is that?” He asked rubbing my thigh

“Because we are just getting a drink as co-workers. Remember.”

Javier leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face and downed his whiskey.

“You’re at least gonna let me walk you home?”

“It’s just around the corner.” You reminded him

“So?” He asked

“I’ll be fine, but I have feeling you’d follow me anyways” you joked

“You think I’m too overprotective of you?”

“Sometimes….” You looked at him and he looked at you not with lust but something else. A deeper longing and you knew in that moment what you had suspected for a while. Javier Peña seemed to have fallen for you.

He ended up walking you home and you begrudgingly let him in for “just one more drink” and soon after you found yourself back home with him, although you didn’t actually have sex. The two of you drank whiskey and just talked. Something you rarely found time to do. Simply connect with each other. You both sat on the couch, Javier took the liberty of your closeness to occasionally caress your thigh or play with your hair. It was simple, yet incredibly intimate. You and him eventually moved to your bedroom, where you cuddled up on him. Neither of you talked much after that. You simply lost yourself in that moment with him. You felt complete and your heart felt full. You slowly faded into sleep against him and without realizing it he had kissed your forehead several times after you had fallen asleep until he too drifted off.

When you woke up the next morning Javier was still asleep, sleeping on his stomach. You watched his back muscles as they rose and fell. He breathed heavily and you tangled your fingers loosely in his hair to try and wake him up. He kept sleeping, so you decided to take a shower. As the warm water poured over your head you thought about the way he looked at you the night before. His big brown doughy eyes that looked at you like a puppy dog. His hand on your leg, fingers playing with your hair and his charming smile. And the way you held each other until you both fell asleep. You realized that you liked him too. You had been resisting him and the idea of you two together. Especially given that you weren’t too sure how the DEA would feel about you and him having a relationship.

Would you not be able to work together catching Escobar worse get fired? You didn’t want to lose everything at work just to be with him, but you also couldn’t help but feel this way for him. Your thoughts are disrupted when you hear the shower curtain being pushed back. Javier stepped in behind you and came close, pressing his chest against your back. You kept your eyes closed as he wrapped his hands around your waist. He started placing light kisses on your neck and you reached up behind to cup his face. You could feel his cock getting hard on your ass and you reached down to stroke him. He groaned into your ear as he cupped your breasts.

“Mind if I stay?” He whispered

You spun in his arms and looked into his eyes. That same loving look from last night appeared on his face and you knew that he definitely had feelings for you too. There was no turning back now. For either of you. So you accepted that you were also in love with him and leaned into kiss him. It was passionate, with full force. He pushed your back against the shower wall, cupped your face with one hand while the other was planted on the wall beside your head. You moved up against him and moved your leg slowly up to his waist. He dropped his hand and immediately groped your thigh.

“Wanna stay in here or take this back to the bed?” He asked

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in the shower before” you remarked

“We haven’t” he smirked

You reached back down the stroke his cock and smiled at him.

“Well Agent Peña…” you said as you continued touching him. “What do you want?”

His hands traveled along your body and settled on your waist. He spun you back around and pushed you back up against the shower wall, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. You let out a breathy moan. You knew calling Javier “Agent Peña” turns him on. And you knew that it could make him go from the sweet man you cared about you so much, into a man hungry with lust. It makes him want to be in charge.

“I want you. And I suggest you behave. Got it?”

You moaned in agreement and nodded. He slapped your ass and tightened his grip around your wrists.

“Words sweetheart…”

“Yes sir…I’ll…I’ll be good” you reply somewhat begrudgingly.

Javier and you had this game sometimes when hooking up. You knew whenever you called him by his formal title, he was going to want to ravish you And you liked to give into him sometimes. Pretend you were a suspect or one of Escobar’s whores. It excited you, in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Makes you feel on edge and you like the anticipation that had control over you. Sex with Javier was usually always good, but when he was trying to find out where the next shipment was going to come in or where Escobar was going to be next he definitely had a few tricks up his sleeve. A few tricks to get girls to talk in bed.

Then he spun you back around as he grabbed your ass again. He rubbed his hand over it and slid it down in between your thighs. His fingers started rubbing your folds and you started melting up against the wall. Letting go of your wrists, he held you closer to him so your back was against his chest. He started pinching and twisting your nipples with his free hand. You let out a series of moans and whines. The hand in between your thigh snaked up and began to rub your clit. His fingers traced over it before pressing down and rubbing in a tight circle. You moaned and arched your back. He moved his hand across your sternum and pushed your back against his chest.

“Don’t move too much sweetheart” Javier demanded. “Just stay right here”

You held onto his biceps now that both of your hands were free. Your legs were shaking and everything around you was going fuzzy.

“Goddamn Peña you make me feel so good.” You whined

“I bet if you were actually one of Escobars girls I’d get information out of you real easy.”

You let out a mix between a moan and a laugh

“You flatter yourself Agent Peña”

With that he pushed you up against the shower wall some more you steadied yourself with your hands. You gasped in surprise at his sudden dominance. He pushed your legs open slightly, his hand grabbing the insides of your thighs. Then you felt the tip of his cock push into you and gasped.

“Would you tell me now?” He asked nipping on my ear lobe

“You’re going to have to do more than that to get anything out of me”

With that he pushed all the way inside you. He felt so full, so big. You couldn’t help but let out a long, staggering moan, but you weren’t about to say anything to him, about how good it felt. Not even say his name. It’s what he was trying to get out of you in this little game of yours. He started pumping in and out of you slowly at first, but he soon picked up his pace. You only let out a few soft moans as he worked his hips against your ass. You weren’t going to let him win that quickly, yet the pleasure was agonizingly good. He started pounding into you and you could barely contain your whimpers. His hand came down and sharply landed on your ass. He smacked it again and again. Each time you couldn’t help but let him hear you.

“Got more to tell me sweetheart?”

You shook your head and he growled into your ear

“C’mon now I know you wanna talk to me. At least tell me how good it feels”

You didn’t reply and he smacked your ass one last time. He pulled out abruptly, spun you around and turned the water off.

“I know what will make you talk…” he smirked

You stared up at him doe eyed, somewhat confused and scared and somewhat in anticipation. He pulled the curtain back then scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs dangling from the crook of his elbow. He held your naked body against his tightly and walked back into your bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and you let out a slight yelp. He crawled on top of you and started kissing you again.

“If you won’t talk to me from me fucking you…then I guess I’ll just torture you with my tongue.” He whispered

He worked his way down your entire body, kissing every inch slowly. He was methodically in his actions. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on your flesh like an animal that just caught its prey. He slowly reached your core and began teasing the inside of your thigh with his lips and tongue. Your hand moved down to grab his head and move him where you wanted. He bit down on your thigh, giving it a hard slap, and looked up at you.

“If you want me somewhere specific you’re gonna have to use your words.”

You groaned in response

You watched him as he went back to teasing you. His mouth drew closer and closer to your clit, until finally. Your hips bucked up in his face slightly as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He held you down and started really going for it. He ate you out like he was starving for you. Javier lapped you up, sucking and teasing your core. His tongue was relentless and kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He could sense it too. So he kept you on edge for a while. Javier pulled back, gawking at you as your eyes and pouty lips silently begged him to return his mouth to your slit. He slowly rubbed you as he admired you. He stroked himself with his free hand and bent back down to kiss your thighs.

You squirmed when his lips touched your skin again, so desperate to cum for him. Javier kissed your clit again, his soft affectionate demeanor driving you crazy. You wanted to cry out, but you held back, still remembering that he’s trying to coax you into telling him how good he makes you feel. How bad you crave him. Javier made eye contact with you as he tasted you, his tongue delicately danced over your folds. You bit down on your lip hard, eyes never leaving his. He pulled back again, catching his breath. He rubbed your clit again as he looked at you.

“C’mon baby. Why don’t you tell me how good it feels hmm? C’mon let me hear you.” Javier nearly begged but you just shook your head. His face changed as he scoffed at you.

“Fine. Gonna be a stubborn little thing hmm? Two can play at that game.” He said, removing his fingers. You buck your hips up at the loss of his hand, your face scrunched up disappointment. He sat up on his knees and beckoned you to him. You crawled forward, eyes never leaving his. With his cock in one hand, he stroked the side of your face

“Well if you're not going to speak, then maybe you can use your mouth in a different way hmm?” He suggested. He cups your face and draws you close to his crotch.

You opened your sweet little mouth, and he traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You opened and took him into your mouth. He was so big, and you could feel the tip as it prodded the back of your throat. You gagged slightly and he cooed at you. He pumped into you, loving the way your lips became fat and plumb. He held the back of your head and he continued moving his hips. Javier tilts his head back in bliss, his grip getting slightly tighter in your hair. He looks down for a moment, reaching for your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck that’s good.” He quipped. He looked back down at your mouth then back up at your ass. He ran his hand in-between your cheeks and started to rub your slick folds. His actions caught you off guard and you popped your mouth off his length. You moaned and gasped as your legs started to give out.

“Oh there she is. Can’t help it now hmm? Come on, tell me how good it feels.”

You held back for as long as possible, biting down hard on your bottom lip until you can’t help it anymore.

“Mmm mmm ooh fuck Javi fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..” you finally cried out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You duck your head down, face against the mattress as Javier made you cum. You convulsed on his hand. He smiled, his satisfaction ever so apparent.

“Thaaaats it. Oh fuuuck, you’re so pretty baby. So pretty cumming for me like this” he moaned

You stared back up at him, eyes slightly wet and glossy from having him down your throat. With a finger under your chin, he guided your lips back up to his. As he kissed you, he gently pushed you back on your back and you spread your legs for him. He wanted to tease you still, catching you while you're still a babbling mess. He rubs your clit as he pushes himself inside you. It was overwhelming at first, and you clenched around his cock.

“Javi…I-I oh fuck your gonna make me cum again” you squealed

“Good. Tell me who makes you feel good hmm?”

“Y-you Javier ok. You win you win you win, I fuck, I-I…”

“Go on. Say it. Say it to me.”

“I want you. Not just, not just like hooking up…I want all of you please…please…”

The admission stumbled out of you and you almost regretted it as you said it but Javier simply smiled. As he pumped into, he leaned down and kissed you

“Ohh I want you too. I have for a while.”

His passion overtook him and he sped up his hips. He was practically possessed, letting his brain go numb as he continued to drill into you. Your fucked out face gawked at him, continuously looking at his face and then at the place where his cock had entered you. The feeling of pleasure consumed you, he felt so full and deep in you. You never wanted this to end and neither did he. Javier kissed you frantically, savoring you.

“That’s all I really wanted this whole time. To know you wanted me too.” He whispered

You nodded and he pumped into you more deliberately.

“Christ baby you feel so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

Mhmm go on. Fill me up. Fuck pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” you beg over and over again until he came. His cum spilled into you, feeling warm and filling. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing all over your face as he did.

“Mmm Javier, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” you muffled as he kissed you

“You really think…” he kissed you “that we should worry about that” he kissed you again “right now. In this moment”

You sighed against him and shook your head

“I hope you have a plan for figuring this out.”

“You know I’ll figure it out baby.” He smiled cockily

He cupped your face and continued to kiss you over and over again. You slowly melted into his touch and so did your anxiety. At that moment you didn’t care. You had him, as much as you had tried to resist him, you wanted him and now, now you had him.

꧁✹❂✹꧂



[norman-fucking-reedus]

BEGGING ON MY KNEES FOR CORRUPTION KINK WITH DARYL YOU WRITE SMUT SO HEAVENLY😫😫😫

SWEET LITTLE SINNER

THE YUMMY STUFF: Age gap, (Daryl is in his late 50s, Reader in her early 30s) Creampies, breeding kink, fingering, bit of cockwarming, just smutty stuff, ...petnames 😇, semi-public?? guys they fuck in the church, virgin fem!reader, religious!reader, dont cancel me for this, but religion kink

DO NOT READ IF YOU THINK YOU'LL FEEL OFFENDED BECAUSE HOW YOU FEEL IS NOT MY PROBLEM

OKAY ANON I KNOW IM ANSWERING THIS REQ MONTHS LATER BUT BEAR WITH ME ALRIGHT 🎀

Im playing around with a new posting format and I honestly really like it so far! Im just literal dogshit at summaries so I don't necessarily bother with them (I mean at least I try) but eeeerm guys let me know if its cutie AND PLEASE LOOK AT MY BLOG PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I CHANGED THAT TOO

So after scrolling through the mounds of unanswered asks I have, I found this one and it reminded me of a conversation I had with my sister abt Daryl x a Christian girl who holds herself very high to her faith and has a deeper understanding of the bible

This takes place around the time they find gabriel, and somehow this ended up being a !greene reader, I also had to extend the church for... purposes :3

Believe it or not this is my first time ever writing corruption kink 😭 I got this request back when I was still fresh on tumblr and its been sitting ever since because I just didn’t know what to do (and I still dont)

southern gothic has me in a chokehold and I cant breathe

"Come on! Fight to the fence!" The sound of Rick's voice bellowed over the deafening clang of metal and ringing gunfire, rapidly taking down any walkers that shuffled within range as the men helped the women to climb over the fence first, Carl dropping down and catching all the weapons that were tossed onto the safe side.

Rosita crawled up the chain fence quickly, noticing that you were behind her when she was balanced right on top and extending a hand out to you. "Up and over" She lightly yet urgently joked, and you could only let out a small huff of air as you grasped her hand, and hauled yourself upwards, swinging a leg over to join her in scaling down the other side.

"Let's go! Move your asses!" Abraham shouted as he fired his gun, covering Rick as he made a break for the fence, the redhead man not far behind once the walkers had started to herd up. He threw the firearm over the fence and easily jumped onto half the fence, using a walker's head as a boost to fling himself over onto the other side.

As you and the others hastily gathered your belongings, no one dared to look back at the remnants of Terminus, trying to stay together as you all ran for a safe place behind Rick, expecting that he had some kind of miracle up his sleeve and would find a place to hunker down for a few hours, days even.

Despite the chaos and the destruction that surrounded you, you and the rest of the group hastily gathered your belongings, not daring to look back at the ruins of Terminus. Trying to stay as closely together as possible, you all followed Rick's lead as he dashed through the trees. He was the one who had kept the group alive for so long, and everyone was hoping that he could do it for just a little while longer.

After what felt like forever, you could feel the intense heat seeping into your skin and making your clothes stick to your body. Every step you took felt like a burden, with the fabric rubbing against your flesh. The air was thick with humidity, and you could feel the moisture clinging to your skin, making you feel sticky and uncomfortable. You glanced around at the other people around you, all of them appeared to be struggling in the heat, with their foreheads glistening with sweat and their breathing labored.

As you looked over at Daryl, you couldn't help but notice the solemn expression on his face as he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. It was clear that he had been struggling to come to terms with Carol's sudden disappearance, and had been much more withdrawn and reserved than usual. He seemed to be lost in thought, lost in his own world, and it was hard to know how to reach out to him.

"Right here," Rick spoke as he brought the group out to a small clearing that was surrounded by trees, briefly scanning the area before crouching down in the dirt and beginning to frantically dig.

Abraham scoffed, "Tha' hell are we still around here for?" taking a few steps forward as he analyzed and addressed Rick, watching the man pull out a blue duffel bag.

"Guns. Some supplies," He said bluntly, pulling the black zipper back and further exposing the bag's contents, multiple guns, and other hand-held weapons. "We go along the fences, use the rifles, and take out the rest of 'em."

"What?" Glenn gawked, staring at Rick in disbelief as he listened to the words spewing out his mouth, bouncing around uncomfortably in his head.

Rick started to pull out the variety of weapons one by one, not once turning to meet Glenn's gaze. "They don't get to live."

The latter pursed his lips and huffed, stepping closer to Rick as to get his attention. "Rick, we got out. It's over."

"It's not over till they're all dead." Rick growled, shaking his head.

"They are dead. That place is on fucking fire, crawling with walkers in every which way." Rosita spat, laughing in annoyance at Rick's stupidity.

You shake your head as Rick continued to pull items out of the bag, "We got lucky back there," you said, voice low and trembling. "It's not worth risking our lives by going back in" your eyes meeting Rick's in a plea for him to understand. "God doesn't always give us a second chance. Just play the hand you were dealt" The thought of going back into that walker-infested place made your skin crawl, and you couldn't understand why Rick was wasting his time.

"Does he think he could give me one?" A familiar voice spoke softly from behind your group, faces lighting up in surprise and joy as Carol lightly stepped through the forest, appearing from behind a tree with her signature smile tugging at her lips, stretching all the way up to her ears when all of Daryl's weight barreled into her frame, almost knocking her straight onto her ass with a shocked laugh.

Her unexpected appearance managed to lift the once extremely heavy atmosphere, now bright and bubbly as it was filled with smiles.

"Did you do that?" Rick questioned once it was his turn to hug Carol, not getting a verbal response but the cheeky smile painting her blood-covered face was more than telling. However, it didn't last long once she scanned over the entirety of the group. "You have to come with me."

Carol led the group through the forest and down the train tracks until reaching a small cabin hidden in the trees where Tyrese and sweet little Judith had been holed up waiting for her return, everyone watching as Sasha, Rick, and Carl sprinted towards them, each cradling their respective loved one. It was another emotional yet much-needed heartfelt reunion, especially considering that the last few weeks had been nothing but hell in a handbasket.

"We should get moving, the fire's still burning" The grey-haired woman suggested as she gave the tall, rising black smoke one last look over.

"Yeah. We need to go" Rick nodded as he took stared at the smoke, an unreadable expression on his face and in his eyes.

Daryl huffed slightly, "Yeah, but where?" glancing around the remote area.

"Doesn't matter. Somewhere far away from there."

It had been a long few days since the group had gotten somewhere far away from there, and a long few days since anyone had anything to eat. Stomachs were empty and energy seemed to only be decreasing, the hunger gnawing away at all of you.

As the sun slowly began to rise above the horizon, Daryl quietly made his way into the dense forest in search of something to eat. It was quiet, and peaceful as he gingerly and skillfully walked through the mess of vines and roots at his feet, blue eyes scanning the dirt floor for any sign of movement that might indicate the presence of an animal.

Oddly enough, it felt like he wasn't necessarily alone in these woods, glancing around and over his shoulder more than he typically would. Maybe it was just a nearby walker he could sense before he could see, but he knew way better than to believe something like that. His gut told him that there was someone else out here, and Daryl learned to always listen to his gut.

He instinctively raised his crossbow to be eye level, scanning the treeline as he took careful and quiet steps, moving from the west to the north and then east. There was a slight breeze that ruffled the leaves, tousled dark hair in his face, and flowed a dirty white skirt from a few feet from him, a tiny but audible gasp heard.

It had come from behind a thick collection of bushes, Daryl carefully combing them out of the way with one hand and ducking to prevent anything from getting in his eye. He had a tight grip on his crossbow, ready for whatever potential danger could be on the other side.

Luckily for him though, there was no danger. It was just you, the weird and off-putting Greene who had somehow turned into a new interest for Daryl, not quite being able to put his finger on just what it was that drew him towards you.

You were a quiet, soft but strange Christian girl, much different than Maggie and Beth. Unlike them, you seemed to have some kind of spiritual connection to the bible, a deeper understanding of it that often made others feel oddly safe around you, as if you truly did have God protecting you.

Funny enough, it reminded Daryl of when his parents would drag him to the southern church, forcing him into the small confession box where he would sit and sob for hours, silently begging for God to come save him.

He could hear you softly murmuring something, but the full words didn't entirely reach his ears. You were kneeling in front of a large moss-covered log, hands clasped together with your head down, looking up every so often. He watched how every time you leaned back, your hair fluttered back and fell back into position.

Not wanting to be creepy, he decided to come out from where he had been hiding, a little taken aback when you seemed to not be bothered, as if you had already known he wasn't any sort of threat.

"Hell ya' doin' out here girl?" Daryl grumbled out, standing a few feet behind you. He watched as you repeated the motion with your head a few more times, eventually pushing yourself up off your knees.

You knocked the gathered leaves and a few bugs off your skirt, smiling at him softly. "Prayer. I come out here every mornin' for it"

He scoffed slightly, glancing down at the ground as he rolled a rock under his shoe. "Why bother? Not like s'gon get heard anyway"

“Yeah? We’ll see. I prayed we find a safe place today” You said as you brushed some hair our your mouth, wind starting to pick up in speed.

Daryl hummed, “Pray we also find some food?” flipping his own hair out his face.

“Of course,” You laughed slightly, airy and light. “But with you out here I think that’ll be answered”

The man scoffed again, this time ducking his head at your words. “Yeah right” He mumbled out.

“I mean it. Look, there’s a squirrel in that tree” You point to a nearby oak tree and Daryl follows your finger, pulling the trigger of his crossbow faster than you could even fathom.

The squirrel hit the ground, Daryl stepped over a few roots and bushes to pick it up, pulling the arrow out and tossing the carcass over his shoulder.

“Good eye girly. C’mon, guess yer God is gon help ya’ help feed us” He glanced at you from over his clear shoulder, motioning for you to follow him with a short nod of the head.

You followed as he walked through the thick mess of bushes, the green leaves staining your cowgirl boots as you stepped on them. The birds chirped loudly above head as the sun got higher and higher in the sky, the air starting to increase in temperature.

It was quite a nice walk through the forest regardless of the heat, Daryl making for much better company than you expected even though he didn't have much to say. You filled the silence by humming softly to yourself, staying a few feet behind and looking around the wooded terrain, keeping an eye out for animals and walkers.

Daryl paused for a moment, holding up a finger and then positioning his crossbow again. The weapon fired, and you watched as it struck another squirrel, this time pinning it against a tree.

He yanked the arrow out, sliding it back into the holder on the front of his bow and tossing the second squirrel over his shoulder.

"Need'ta get at least five," He said as he continued walking, glancing at you again from over his other shoulder just to make sure you were still there.

You scoffed slightly at his words. "Five?" You repeated, staring at the angel wings on the back of his vest.

Daryl nodded, peering up into the trees and looking around on the ground. "Yeah. Got a lotta people to feed"

"And you think five is the lucky number?" You joke lightly, a small smile tugging your lips as you stay hot on his heels.

He shrugged, squirrels bouncing with the motion. "Dunno. Depends on how many ya prayed for"

"Well, if you told me, I would've prayed for at least ten" You appeared at his side and bumped his arm with yours, his gaze meeting yours for only a split second before you were suddenly startled by Rick and Glenn's out-of-nowhere appearances.

They pointed their guns at both of you, and you put your hands up to show you weren't a threat. "Jus' catchin' some breakfast," Daryl said as he dropped his arms and nodded at Glenn in greetings.

"Ready to get some concrete under your feet?" Rick asked him as the four of you began to make your way out of the forest and back to the rest of the group, the day only getting hotter and hotter. "I think it's time."

Daryl hummed, a thin layer of sweat starting to form on his forehead. "That is sweet music to my ears, Officer."

"We take the next road we come to, try to get back to going north 'till we find a vehicle." Rick gestured slightly with his hand, gun still in his grip just in case.

You all stepped up the steep hill leading back to the road where the group had decided to set up a temporary camp for the night.

Rick meet Daryl's eyes, placing a hand on his squirrel-less shoulder. "Good?"

"Good"

"–And Father God, I once again call upon you to ask for a blessing, a miracle, an answer. You've got me so far, this group, I ask, will you continue to do so? Will you bestow us a safe place? A home?"

Back on the road once again. It was hot as the group ventured forward, worn down shoes and boots slapping against the burning pavement as you all conversed amount yourselves and entertained one another, Michonne and Carl in some form of competition while you lingered behind, Daryl nearby just in case a walker somehow nabbed you.

He silently listened to the soft whispering of your voice, the gentle lull you used as you spoke your prayers, walking with your head down and the palms of your hands facing towards the sky, almost reaching out in a sense.

There was a few questions lingering on his tongue, but growing up in the southern church Daryl had learned not to ask questions until after prayer. Hell, he had learned not to ask questions period.

Daryl only watched you out the corner of his eye, your plush lips moving slightly as you murmured. There was just something about you that was captivating, the fact that you were almost a mixture of Beth's sweet and softness, Maggie's stern and stubbornness, it made him curious to know what the third mysterious Greene had to offer.

"Amen" You mumbled a little louder than intended, clasping your hands together as you finished and concluded your prayer. You brushed some hair out your face when you lifted your head, catching a glimpse at Daryl's watchful eye.

He looked away when your gaze met his, furrowing your brow slightly with a small and playful smile. "What?" You appeared closer to his side and purposely bumped into him, watching how he staggered a little in his pace.

"Nothin'. Jus' hot as hell out here" Daryl shrugged slightly, sweat rolling down his face and back.

You hummed softly, "Hell is a lot hotter than this, but it is super hot. Just wish we could find a river or something" fanning your legs with the loose fabric of your skirt.

Daryl glanced at you, eyes dropping the flowing motion of the fabric. "Tryna' go swimmin'?" He questioned, because a dip in the cool river didn't sound that bad at all

"We weren't really allowed growing up, swimsuits were always super revealin' so we just stayed inside most summers" You shrugged, a tiny smile on your lips as you recalled past memories with your sisters, even if it was just sitting inside trashing the kitchen. "We weren't even allowed to wear shorts that didn't stop at the knees"

It made sense, ever since the farm you, Beth, and Maggie had always been more modestly dressed then the rest, never wearing something too short even if it was the only option.

But even then, as long as your skirt as, Daryl still couldn't help himself from picturing the entirety of your bare legs, a shiver coursing through him as he tried to wipe the image away as quickly as it had come. You were sweet, almost too sweet for him. He was damaged and tainted, you were pure and holy.

"My moms used'ta watch me 'nd m'brother when we went to the river behind our house 'cause I ain't know how'ta swim as a kid" Daryl forced himself to say, tearing his eyes away from the dingy fabric and looking anywhere that just wasn't where you were.

Of course, it wasn't it that easy, especially when you giggled at his sentence which almost caused him whiplash from how hard he snapped his neck at you.

"Sorry, sorry. Just– You didn't know how to swim? Even I can swim" You covered your mouth as you spoke through your laughter, cheeks starting to hurt a little from how hard you were smiling.

Daryl scoffed, the sound of your giggles being music to his ears. "Laugh it up girly. Won't be funny when I throw ya' in a river"

You did laugh even harder at that, maybe because you knew it might be true. "It'll be hilarious! Even more because you'll be the one finding me a new outfit"

"Jus' a little water. S'not like yer damn skirt s'gon wash away" Daryl rolled his eyes, watching as you fake a look of offense.

"How do you know that? It just might! Then you'd have to cover me up" You folded your arms over your chest, quirking a brow at the older man as he glanced you up and down.

"Maybe I don' want to" He mumbled with a short shrug of his mouth

"What do you want?" You asked with a small tilt of your head.

Daryl's lips moved way faster then his brain, and he found himself suddenly muttering out "Wanna see wha's under tha' pretty dress"

You stared at him for a little, and he wished he could just bury an arrow in his head now, but then you chuckled a bit, nudging his arm with yours. "That's a sin, Daryl"

The two of you fell silent, your words lingering in Daryl's mind as he focused his gaze down on the floor, his ears perking slightly when they caught the gentle sound of your humming, some kind of song that he had surely never heard before.

He didn't wanna admit that your voice was soothing and melodic, it almost reminded him of his mother when she would cradle his trembling body in her arms, bruised and bloodied as the soft vibrations of her humming buzzed through him, comforting him as he softly sniffled into her chest, clutching onto her shirt and wondering what it was that made him so undeserving of God's–

"Help!"

The scream of terror rang out from the forest to the woods, and you all looked around at each other as your movements halted, everyone turning in the direction they thought the cry had come from with their weapons drawn, you subconsciously inching closer to Daryl for safety.

"Help, anybody! Help!" The cries came again, this time audibly and undeniably from the left side of the trees.

Rick nodded his head, gun drawn and pointed as he dashed off the road and into the forest, the group all following closely behind as the screams and pleads for help didn't cease, getting louder and closer which drew the attention of nearby walkers, having to dodge and take out any that got too close.

"Anyone, help! Help!"

As you all sprinted deeper into the trees, the sound of snarling and clicking teeth began to mix and become more audible, eventually leading the group out into a green clearing where there was a... pastor cowering ontop of a large stone rock, slipping off and making a half-ass attempt at kicking the walkers.

There weren't that many walkers, but it was still enough to where Rick felt firing his gun was necessary. The gunshots rang out through the forest, and you covered your ears at the loud noise, wincing slightly as it bounced around uncomfortably in your head.

Daryl took out the last straggler with a hard stab of his knife, wiping the thick blood off his blade on his pants before he slid it back in his holster, appearing at your side as he analyzed the pained expression on your face.

"Ya' alrigh'?" He murmered softly, hands hovering over your face but not quiet touching it, almost as if he was restraining himself.

You nodded, uncovering your ears and glancing at the pastor on the top of the rock, Daryl and everyone else following your gaze.

He whimpered softly and quietly from where he sat, eyes frantically darting between the all of you as if you all were the threat.

"Come on down." Rick said in a loud, stern voice, taking a few steps forward in front as the group took a few steps back.

The man rolled on his stomach and awkwardly wormed his way down grunting slightly and crying out when he slipped the rest of the way and landed on his ass.

A few giggles erupted from you and Maggie, stifling your laughter in the same way you've both always done by simply turning your heads away from the source of humor.

Rick didn't seem too entertained though, glancing the man up and down when he stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off. "You okay?" He raised a brow, emotion unmoving and flat.

"Sorry. Yes, thank you. I-I'm Gabriel." He stammered out, his lips pulling themselves into a small an nervous smile.

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick titled his head as he asked condescendingly, taking another step closer to 'Gabriel.'

The man in question chuckled slightly. "Do I look like I would have any weapons?"

"We don't give a rats flying fucking ass what it looks like." Abraham barked out, and you could only nod your head in agreement.

Gabriel mumbled out some kind of understanding before he put on his best brave face. "I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need"

At that you scoffed, covering your mouth in a fake apology. "Oh sorry, just that, didn't really look like God was protecting you now was he?"

Gabriel smiled nervously and awkwardly at your words, his eyes taking in your attire and the sparkly cross around your neck. "Well, he led a woman of your nurture here, so that must mean something right?"

"Oh of course. It means that you have something we want" You spoke softly, yet your tone was oddly dark. It somehow flipped the aura surrounding the group, replacing it with a heavy presence that just couldn't be explained.

"I-I have nothing to offer. Whatever food I- I had left, it just hit the ground." He glanced down at the ruin pile of whatever it was he had.

Carl stepped forward, fishing something out his pocket and holding it out to the pastor. "We've got some pecans, sorry if you're allergic" He partially joked, taking a step back and behind his dad.

Gabriel thanked him, dumping a few into his mouth and chewing. Judith cooed sweetly from where she rested against Beth, the mans eyes softening as he spotted her. "That's a beautiful child," He said, glancing around at just how many of you there were. "D- Do you have a camp?"

"No. Do you?" Rick asked without hesitation.

"I have a church." Gabriel mumbled, and your ears perked up at the sound of that. Daryl also noted the way your face lit up, while his twisted in distain.

Rick stuck his gun in the waist band of his jeans, aggressively grabbing Gabriel. "Hold your hands above your head."

"How many walkers have you killed?" He questioned, roughly patting the man down in search for any weapons.

"Not any, actually." Gabriel answered nervously.

"Turn around." Rick commanded and he spun the man, continuing his thorough search. "How many people have you killed?"

"None." Gabriel said as Rick spun him back around, narrowing sharp, quizzical blue eyes at him.

"Why?" He almost hissed the words out, whispering them out through the skin of his teeth.

Gabriel was silent for a moment, glancing at all of you before back at Rick. "Because the Lord abhors violence."

"We've all done something, we were all born as sinners. Nobody's perfectly pure." You spoke up from where you stood behind Daryl, shaking your head slightly. Daryl could argue with your words that you were the most perfect damn thing he’s seen, but he forced himself to keep his mouth shut instead. You were pure and holy, he was damaged and tainted.

He looked at you, slightly taken aback. Rick finished his search by nodding in confirmation that he was clear, taking a step back from Gabriel but not too far.

"I sin almost every day," He murmured out after a moment, scanning you all once more before his lips shifted into another small nervous smile. "But those sins, I confess them to God, not strangers."

"You said you had a church?"

You sat outside on the church step with all the other women, plus Gabriel, while all the guys stormed inside to do a thorough search of the building, in search of any weapons or any other people. Although Gabe claimed it was just him and himself, Rick didn't believe him and didn't want to take any risks.

It was quite peaceful, birds chirping above with a slight breeze that brought a little bit of cooling relief from the burning sun. Judith cooed softly in Beth's lap, shaded from the sun courtesy of Carl's hat, too big to properly fit her head but big enough to cover her body.

"I spent months here without stepping out the front door." Gabriel's voice cut through the blissful silence, and you tried not to shoot him an irritated glare. Rick came out first, followed by Daryl and then Glenn. "If you found someone inside, well, it would have been surprising."

"We found a short bus out back." Rick said, hands on his hips as he squinted from the harsh glare of the sun. “Nothing else besides that. I think we can settle down here for a minute”

“Shit ain’t settled ‘till we get Eugene’s ass to Washington” Abraham’s voice barked from behind the man, Eugene and Rosita following suit.

Daryl stood on the step above yours, and you turned to smile softly at him as his large frame blocked the scorching light of the sun from spilling down onto you.

He scowled in response, but only because he didn't wanna make his cheeks any more red than they already were. He turned his head away and decided to just blame the burning sensation on the Georgia heat.

Rick shrugged his shoulders as he dismissed Abraham. "Yeah, well, people are exhausted. This place has four walls and a roof. Safe. In other words, we're staying here."

"Sounds pretty good to me, I've slept inside a chapel before," You said as you twisted your head to look at Rick, glancing inside the church to get a glimpse at the size inside. "Plus we can all fit in there, so why not? We could even do our own version of 'The Last Supper' but with squirrel meat" You added, gesturing towards the string of squirrels Daryl had managed to catch on the journey here.

"That kinda does sound good" Beth smiled as she bounced Judith on her leg, the thought of eating meat making her really hungry. "And we can have a bonfire! It'll be even better 'cause we won't have to sleep outside after we put it out" She gasped slightly when the idea crossed her mind, sitting up a little straighter as she talked about it.

Maggie smiled softly at the two of you as you both made light of the situation, grateful that you had always been able to see the bright side of things and just simply brush things off, sometimes falling and scraping your knee but getting right back up to walk it off.

Out of the three of them, you had always had a much stronger connection to God even as a child, sometimes walking right out of Sunday school because you claimed the teacher "silenced" his voice. Growing up, you only continued to believe more and more, so much to the point that it almost worried Maggie, like you could always see something that she couldn't.

There were times when she found herself a bit envious of you, especially when you both had reached your teen years, Maggie starting to take a dive at rebellion and you still as perfectly holy as you had been at age five, wardrobe consisting of nothing but your pristine white clothes, and the same faded white cowgirl boots daddy had bought for you a decade ago on Christmas. He had gotten you all a pair to wear around the farm when dealing and riding with the horses, you and Beth wearing yours down to absolute hell.

By the time you were both in your early twenties, petty rivalry put aside years later replaced by constant gossip and the latest guy Maggie was going out with, she realized that there was no reason to envy you, because she didn't wanna be you. You were pure, holy, and kept yourself high within your faith, studying the Bible in a way that she sometimes couldn't even wrap her head around.

"We need supplies, no matter what we do next" Rick spoke up as he glanced around at everyone, watching Beth pass over Judith to you to sit in the shade Daryl provided.

Glenn nodded in agreement. "That's right. Food, water, ammunition, anything we can find"

You quirked a brow at Gabriel, glancing him up and down. "How'd you survive here for so long?"

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice and stuttered as all eyes landed on him. "W- Well, I had God protecting me"

"No, you didn't. God doesn't protect, he watches" You rolled your eyes at him, as if this wasn't common knowledge.

Gabriel was taken aback by your response, mouth slightly agape as he scrambled to find a different answer. "Our annual canned food drive, things fell apart right after we finished-"

"That's great 'nd all, but Rick, seriously, we're gon' get heatstroke s sittin' out here in the boilin' sun" Maggie cut the man off, fanning herself with both her hands even as she was pressed up against your side, trying to hog the shade that you were already sharing with Beth and Jude.

Carol nodded her head in agreement, also dripping in sweat. "Yeah. You said it was safe, so why aren't we inside yet?" She gestured to the church.

"Alright, alright. Everyone inside. Let's cool off and rest our feet. We can discuss what's next later." Rick nodded and propped the church door open so that the group could easily fit through with all their stuff and guns, loud clattering as these things were dropped on the floor.

You followed after Maggie as she helped Glenn haul a bag inside, holding Judith on your hip as she sucked on her tiny fist. The way you held her almost looked natural, as if she was your very own. Daryl tried to pry his eyes away, but he just couldn't. He was drawn to you in a way he couldn't understand.

It bothered him in a way, the world had ended and you treated every day as if it was just an average day, as if dead people walking around was nothing more but an inconvenience. You were a carefree and buoyant spirit, as if your mind was consistently clear and levelheaded.

But it also intrigued him, how somehow someway in a world plagued with darkness that forces people to be tough and hard, you still manage to be soft and dainty, as if the plague hadn't even touched you once.

There was a combination of walker blood and mud splattered all across your white dress, some of it on your sleeves and your face, yet it didn't make you look any less tender, especially now as you seemed to sit cozily in the nave of the church, bouncing Judith on your leg as you softly hummed her a song.

Inside the church was fairly big, the back of it containing a few large offices that Rick deemed the safest the camp out in for the night, explaining that the doors had locks and that if someone were to break in everyone would hear and have plenty of time to wake up, claiming that everyone could sneak out the back door or just fight if need.

"The food lasted a long time," Gabriel said once the large wooden door creaked shut, other members of the group finding a place to settle down. "And then I started scavenging. I've cleaned out every place nearby, except for one."

"What kept you from it?" Rick questioned.

Gabe shrugged. "It's overrun."

"How many?" Glenn pipped in from against a wall.

Gabriel slightly tilted his head in thought. "A dozen or so? Maybe more."

Rick scoffed, hands on his hips as he stared at the man. "We can handle a dozen."

"Bob and I will go with you," Michonne said calmly as she stepped forward. "Tyreese should stay here, help keep Judith safe."

"That'll be okay?" Rick glanced over to the man in question, who nodded his head.

"You ever need me to watch her, need anything for her, I'm right here" Tyreese said with a small smile.

The corner of Rick's mouth slightly quipped upward in a tiny smirk. "I'm grateful for it."

"I'll draw you a map–" Gabriel spoke up but was quickly cut off, "–You don't need to, you're coming with us." by Rick who shot him down with a cold icy glare.

It caught Gabriel off-guard and made his anxiety go through the roof. "I– I'm not gonna be of any help, you saw me up on that rock, I'm no good around those things." He stammered, trying to plead his case nervously under Rick's burning gaze.

"You're coming with us."

The sun had set long ago, and the inside of the church was lit up with a warm candle ambiance that fueled that lighthearted mood, everyone in the group chattering and laughing with one another for the first time in what felt like years.

"I'd like to propose a toast." Abraham loudly announced over everyone and all conversations ceased as the ginger easily captured all eyes in the room, raising his glass of wine that Gabriel had pulled from his own office.

"When I look around this room... all I can see is survivors." He said, scanning his eyes over the nave and everyone inside. "Each and every damn one of you has earned that title."

Abraham was silent for a moment, giving the room one last glance over before tipping his glass. "To the survivors."

"Survivors! Cheers!" You all said in unison, raising your glasses and clinking it against the person beside you, the church erupting back into its previous laughter as everyone resumed drinking and enjoying the night.

You scooted your way over to Daryl who was sat in a corner, purposely getting in his space and holding out your glass to him. "Survivors." You mumbled, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.

He glanced at you, a faraway expression on his face as he raised his glass to yours, mumbling out a soft,"Survivors" that was only loud enough for the both of you to hear.

"Now," Abraham said out loud once again, all eyes falling on him. "We get Eugene to Washington, and he will make the dead die, and the living will have this world again." He took a swing of his drink, raising his pinky. "And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip."

From where Judith sat snuggly in Rick's lap, she cooed and fisted some of his shirts in her small hands.

"Eugene, what's in DC?" The ginger questioned, all eyes now falling on the scientist for the answer.

He took a moment, clearing his throat before he spoke in his usual flat and unwavering tone of voice. "Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this fubar magnitude, that means food, fuel, refuge."

"Restart," Abraham concluded, Eugene giving a short and curt nod at the response. "However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started."

"Save the world for that little one, save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there, who don't got' nothin' left to do except survive." Abraham spoke, his words of encouragement ringing out through the church's walls.

Judith cooed loudly as she squirmed in Rick's lap, and he smiled at her as he readjusted his grip on her tiny torso. "I think she knows what I'm about to say," Rick joked, managing a few laughs from people. "If she's in, then I'm in too."

"We're all in" Carol interjected, smiles spreading across everyone's faces as conversations and laughter began to fill the room again, people started to celebrate by drinking, clapping, and cheering, the energy in the room upbeat and positive. "Let's do it!" Abraham exclaimed, clearly now tipsier than everyone else as he raised his almost empty glass in the air one more time.

The once warm and cozy atmosphere that the church had inside during the earlier activities had been snuffed out long ago, leaving a cold and empty feeling inside the nave.

It wasn't literally cold, or maybe it was just the cigarette that was keeping Daryl warm, taking long drags from the small stick every minute or so. He couldn't be bothered to go all the way outside, and the natural glow of the moon seeping into the room was more than enough.

Plus, it's not like he was alone, considering that you were sitting in the aisle over from him with your head down.

It had been just the two of you in pure silence for about thirty minutes, and Daryl had only been staring at you for twenty. He tried not to, he really did, but it was hard for his eyes to peel away from the way your dress reflected the light, hands neatly folded together in your lap as hair spilled down your shoulders.

Because of the wine from earlier, there was a slight buzz that ran through Daryl's nerves that somehow encouraged him to stop staring and stand, making his way over to where you were sitting.

"Smoking is a sin, and so is interrupting my prayer," You said once he was sat a few inches from you, not even glancing up at him once.

Daryl let out a tiny scoff, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Yeah, well, s'gon fall on deaf ears anyway"

"Do you not believe in God?" You asked as you blinked your eyes, now turning your head to look at him with genuine curiosity etched on your features.

The man shook his head. "Ain't ever believed in no God," he said, pulling another hit and speaking around it. "Hell, ain't ever believed in nobody"

You sighed a little, leaning back against the bench. "God believes in you"

Daryl scoffed a lot louder at that. "Don' even believe in m'self"

"Well, I believe in you," You said with a shrug, scooting a bit closer to him to bump him with your elbow.

He grumbled as he bumped you back, more so pushing as he held his cigarette between his teeth. "Wha' else ya' believe in? Sandy Clause?"

You let out a small giggle at his butchered version of the fictional character. "Santa, and no, I don't. But I do believe that this is the next world though."

"Why? We ain't dead yet" Daryl analyzed you from the corner of his eyes.

You shook your head, "No, we're not. We never have been. Don't you see? This, this is the resurrection" waving your hands around for emphasis.

"I thought everyone was s'pposed ta' disappear or some shit?" He questioned and you rolled your eyes at him. "Oh come on, I thought you didn't believe in stuff like that. Did you also think that Jesus was gonna fly down from the sky and save us all?"

Daryl huffed as he took a long drag, getting more toward the last few puffs of his cigarette as he raised a brow at you. "Ain't that tha' whole point?"

"That's what people want you to think. They always talk about the resurrection and how Jesus will come back from the dead to save humanity from its wrongdoings, which is exactly what's happening now"

"Tha' hell ya' tryna' say, girl?"

"That God has a plan. He wants the world to be pure again, he wants us to be pure again"

At your words, Daryl scoffed, taking a long and final drag of his cigarette. "Well, m'not very pure unlike yerself" He said as he stomped out the butt of the remaining stick, crushing it under a muddy a boot.

"You're tainted, and its okay. No need to be envious of my non-sinning streak" You jokingly said, flipping your hair which got a tiny chuckle out the older man.

"Now I definitely don' believe ya' ain't ever committed no sin" He said, shaking his head.

You had a small smile playing at your lips, shrugging both shoulders as you looked at him. "I mean, technically walkers aren't people, so I don't really think I've killed anyone"

"Steal anythin'?"

"Thou shall not steal, Daryl. Plus, looting stores is only against the law"

"Well, everyone's told a lie"

"Oh, I'd never lie. The truth will set you free"

Daryl frowned at your words. "Yer startin' ta' piss me off, girl"

"I'm just not a sinner, Daryl. I was raised inside a church, so I spent all my time studying the bible and asking God questions." You said with a sigh, thinking back to when you were still a little girl.

"Wha' kinda questions?" Daryl asked, and you turned once again to meet his gaze.

"Well," You started, taking a moment to think before glancing back up at him. "I've always wondered if you commit a sin inside a church, if it still counts as a sin"

"How would ya' know?"

You shrugged. "I don't, I've never really had any sin to commit"

Daryl hummed, eyes flickering down to your plush lips, tracing the shape of them a few times before shifting his gaze back up to meet your eyes. "Lust is a sin"

"Now that's just unholy, Daryl" You scoffed at him, crossing your arms and turning your head away to hide the heat that rose to your cheeks, because lust was indeed a sin. "It's extremely important to save yourself for the person you're gonna marry. Sex is an emotional gift"

The man furrowed his brows, "How do ya' know tha' if ya' ain't ever fucked?" suppressing the shiver that ran through him at his own words.

Something dark twisted and turned in his stomach just thinking about the idea that you were just as pure as the day that you were born, and he tried not to think about the wildly dirty things he wanted to do to you that he knew would potentially leave a stain. You had probably never even thought of doing something like that, let alone with someone of his nature.

But you had, and you were right now, nervously and subconsciously squeezing your thighs together the more self-aware you started to feel within the older man's presence, feeling his eyes traveling over the length of your body. "I told you, I studied the bible. Sex is the connection of two people who are bound to one another for life, aka being married of course"

"Sex could also just be sex," Daryl shrugged, his brows unmoving as your words confusingly rang out in his ears. "Ain't much of a difference is there?"

You sighed, shaking your head at him. "Of course there is silly. When you're married, sex is a form of art and beauty, as well as conception. God intends for us to use our bodies as a way to communicate with our partner. Any other time, sex is just a form of escape and pleasure, abusing the gift that God has given us in a sinful way, or as you know, lust"

Daryl hummed as you simplified the words for him in a way that he still didn't necessarily understand, but he just decided to pretend like he did. "Ya' ain't ever go through hormones growin' up?"

"Are you asking if I get horny?" You let out a tiny giggle at how his eyes snapped to yours at the blunt question, his cheeks starting to tint pink as he grumbled and looked away. You laughed and wrapped your hands around his forearm, pulling at the man and trying to get him to look at you. "Don't get embarrassed! Are you?"

Unknowingly, you had instead pulled yourself a lot closer to Daryl, and when he twisted his head back in your direction, you were both face to face, noses almost touching.

Daryl stopped breathing for a few seconds as your doe eyes stared up at him, flickering down to where your fingers gripped what you now realized was his very muscular forearm. Sitting this close to him under his burning blue gaze made you feel a bit small, and made a funny feeling form in your lower stomach.

His own eyes flickered back down to your lips, finding himself using his other hand to brush some hair out of your face, curling his fingers at the back of your hand and cupping your cheek in a big, calloused palm, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. "Maybe I am"

"This is God's house, Daryl." You muttered in a hushed whisper as you curled your fingers around his arm, trying not to downright melt into the warm touch of his hand.

"Think he's gon' watch us?" He whispered back, and your lower stomach tingled in a way that made your whole core heat up, feeling a mild throbbing sensation coming from your private area as you looked up at the older man, running his thumb over the edge of your jaw.

"I– I don't–" You stammered, shifting your eyes away from his as you found yourself at a loss for words.

"Said ya' always wanted ta' commit a sin inna church, righ'?" Daryl tilted your gaze back to his, stroking your cheek with a gentleness you didn't even know he could muster. "Might as well do the one tha' feels best"

"But I've never done something like this... Will it– Will it hurt?" You said as you searched his eyes, the blue orbs going soft and tender.

"M'not gonna hurt ya' at all sweetheart," He said in a genuine voice, holding your face a little tighter. He couldn't even imagine hurting something as dainty as you, especially not with the way you were looking up at him with curious and innocent eyes. "If anythin' I do hurts, tell me, alrigh'?"

You nodded, the corner of your lips twitching into a smile as it felt like there was an entire butterfly exhibit in your stomach, Daryl learning down into your space and first giving your lips a small peck, before pulling you completely flush by the back of your nape, a shiver running up your spine that went all the way down to your clothed cunt, legs squeezing together as Daryl deepened the kiss, your first and hottest kiss ever.

It made your head light and dizzy, leaving you starstruck and dazed when he pulled away with only a thin trail of saliva connecting your lips, Daryl brushing the skin of your cheek once again as you slowly blinked, still feeling airy from the kiss you just experienced.

"Do that again please" You murmured in a tiny plea, feeling both sets of your lips tingle in excitement at all the new sensations Daryl was showing you.

He pulled you in for a chaste peck, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. "Ya' like tha', pretty girl?" He mumbled the words against you, pressing another kiss to your plush lips and swallowing the tiny moan you let out.

You moved to wrap your arms around the older man's neck, Daryl now taking both his hands and gripping you by your waist, pulling a shocked gasp from you at the way his touch made your cunt ache. He carefully moved you to lay on your back, slotting a thigh between your legs and pressing the denim material against your soaked panties, a noise mixed between embarrassment and need coming from your throat.

It felt so good, and you found yourself trying to rut against Daryl's thigh as he started to kiss and suck at your neck, making you giggle slightly as the skin there was more ticklish than anywhere else. His body was big and warm as it was pressed on top of yours, feeling a pulsating sensation traveling through your nerves as you continued to needily hump his leg, whining softly as you tried to further fuel the feel-good moment you were having.

"Let m'help ya' out doll, jus' leave it all ta' me, gon' make ya feel real good" Daryl spoke the words from the underside of your jaw, kissing his way up to your lips before he leaned back, pulling his thigh back and leaving a hand on your hip, courtesy of your fingers scrambling to curl around his for comfort.

"I'm a bit nervous," You said, avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment as you spoke the words. "What if I mess something up?"

"Tha' ain't gon' happen, m'gon do all tha' work fer ya'" Daryl said as his hands moved down to your thighs, lifting and pulling your legs to circle his waist, a shrill shriek tearing out your throat as your dress started to slip down and pool at your waist.

It left your lower half completely exposed, and it was almost an instinct to drop your hands down to cover your panties, a hot blush painting over as Daryl gripped both your hands in one, moving them away and pinning them to your chest. "Nuh'uh, ya' ain't gonna hide from me, pretty girl"

You whined softly as he released your wrists, ducking his head down to kiss and lick your stomach, causing you to jerk from the wet muscle dragging across your skin. His fingers traveled down past the hem of your undies, pushing them midway down your thighs before sitting back up and lifting one of your thighs, yanking the flimsy blue fabric the rest of the way off and stuffing it in his back pocket, pulling you a bit closer as he licked his lips, eyeing the prettiest pussy he's ever seen.

You weren't exactly sure what to do with your hands, deciding instead to clench the cross around your neck in one and prop yourself up on the other, all this being so new and different, dirty and sinful, that you couldn't help but wanna watch.

Daryl placed a hand on your hip, the other moving to gather spit on his fingers. "Gotta get ya' stretched out so I don' hurt ya'"'

"Is this part gonna hurt? I've only masturbated once, but I was too scared to actually finger myself" You frowned a little, feeling your nerves spike as it started set really just how inexperienced you were.

Daryl leaned down and placed a soft peck to your lips, dipping his fingers into your cunt gently and rubbing the digits up and down your slit, pressing down against your clit and moving in a circular motion, his actions on the bundle of nerves sending shivers sparking up your spine, letting out a moan that was deep in your throat right against the older man's lips.

He let out a low chuckle, adding a second finger to his movement against your clit. "Doesn' hurt now, does it?"

You shook your head, body tingling in a foreign way that almost made you feel like you had been tased but in a good way, not that you've ever been tased before. The rough pads of his fingertips against your clit drove you absolutely crazy, the faster they moved the more you found your hips jerking down in a clumsy attempt to speed up whatever high it was you were riding right now, feeling better than you ever have in your whole life.

"There ya' go beautiful, c'mon, cum on m'fingers" Daryl murmured the words out, quickening his pace as he could feel your legs twitching around him, your whines and whimpers getting louder and louder. He spread your cunt lips apart more which revealed your raw clit more, a few harsh strokes to the small bud before you were biting down on your bottom lip and letting your head fall back, a shaky, pleased cry tearing out your chest as waves of electricity coursed through your entire nervous system.

Rather than pulling his fingers away, Daryl dragged them back down your now much more sensitive slit, this time slipping a single digit past your tight entrance, the feeling foreign and oddly unique. Daryl's finger was a bit bigger than average, so you could feel there was a slight stretch to your virgin hole.

Daryl could feel it too, as well as the way you experimentally clenched and convulsed around his stilled finger, giving you a few minutes to adjust to the new feeling.

When he began to slowly thrust the digit in and out, curling the tip of his finger each time in search of your sweet spot, carefully watching the way your face twisted and contorted.

"Ya' alrigh'?" He asked, starting to brush his thumb against the skin where he was gripping your hip.

You nodded, involuntarily clenching around him. "Yeah, it just feels really funny, maybe I just had my expectations too high," You said as you furrowed your brows, a bit upset that 'fingering' wasn't all you chalked it up to be.

"First finger ain't much, second one might feel 'bit different" Daryl said as he pulled the digit back, this time pushing back into you with both fingers, the stretch and drag of the two digits feeling agreeably more different than just one.

This time Daryl just kept up his steady pace, continuing to thrust and curl his fingers into your cunt, starting to scissor you further open. Your eyes trailed down to follow the movement of his other hand as he released his grip on your hip, beginning to undo the zipper of his jeans and shoving them halfway down, the first and biggest cock you've ever laid eyes on.

Your jaw went a little slack, scrambling to find words as you felt panic boil in your stomach. "That– That's not gonna fit!"

"Calm down doll, I swear yer'gon be jus' fine" Daryl murmured softly, reaching down to reassuringly press his forehead against yours, so close that your eyelashes were almost touching. "Told ya', m'not gonna hurt ya'. S'probably not gon' feel tha' best at first but it gets better, righ'?"

Taking his words into consideration for a minute, you nodded your head against his and let your eyes flutter shut as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips, followed by another, and then the feeling of his fingers slipping out of you.

It left you feeling oddly empty, but there was excitement building up as you watched Daryl spit on his cock, using it as lube as he dragged it up your already slick slit, pressing the tip into your hole and easily pushing past, the stretch of his cock slowly slipping into you a lot more painful than expected, your hands finding his forearms where he gripped your waist and squeezing them tightly, wincing slightly as you dug your nails into his skin.

Daryl caressed the skin of your waist with his thumb, trying his best to ease the discomfort he could see and knew he was causing you. "I know, I know, s'gon be alrigh' gorgeous, yer' alrigh'" He muttered, pulling his hips back and pushing them forward again, repeating the motion in long, deep strokes.

Whatever his method was, it was definitely working, each drag of his cock against your walls feeling better and better, your cunt only getting wetter and wetter which made it so much easier for Daryl to increase his pace, trying his best to restrain himself from completely plowing into you like he had been craving to do for days, weeks now.

He didn't wanna hurt you or go too rough, this was your first time for crying out loud, a sweet christian girl who hadn't even dipped her own fingers inside herself, and here he was, a grumpy tainted man who had somehow managed to stuff himself balls deep into her pure little pussy, hugging his cock in a warm, velvety hold that he just wanted to absolutely ruin.

He watched the way your eyes fluttered, soft moans coming from you as your face seemed to be pleasantly relaxed, the tight and fearful grip you once had on his arms now reduced to a lazy and content hold, fingers squeezed every once in a while when Daryl's cock would bump a rather sensitive nerve. "That actually feels good" You mumbled as a small smile twitched on your lips.

But Daryl knew how he could make it feel even better, and his restraint to hold back from completely plowing into you had run down to nothing, a sharp grunt leaving his throat when he snapped his hips forward, shoving the entirety of his cock into you suddenly.

You let out a surprised squeak at the action, Daryl's hands planting themselves awkwardly but firmly on the church bench, your own moving to keep yourself steady as he ducked his head down to begin sucking your neck, setting a rough and unforgiving pace.

"Oh my fuuuck" You moaned out in a shaky, pleased breath, fingers curling into the wood and your toes curling in your boots. It's like you were dancing on cloud ten, each hard bump of his tip to your cervix making your mouth practically water, sending bolts of lightning licking up your spine.

Daryl groaned into the skin of your neck, sucking and kissing against your pulse as he got lost in the warmth of your cunt. "Got such a perfect fuckin' pussy, love tha' s'all fer me"

You whined and couldn't help but clench around him at his words, a shudder running through you when you felt him start to speed up, pulling tiny moans out of your chest at every thrust.

Daryl muttered in a husky voice right by your ear, "Feels so fuckin' amazin' doll, so damn tight 'nd wet, might fuck ya' fer hours" grabbing you by the hip and pulling you impossibly further in his lap, driving his cock faster and deeper into your body, nailing your tender sweet spot dead on which caused you to let out a high pitch cry, Daryl muffling your sounds with a slow but sloppy kiss.

He slammed his cock right into the sensitive bundle of nerves, each thrust making you feel dizzy and lightheaded, knocking the air out of your lungs but it felt so good you couldn't even care, eyes starting to roll back when Daryl slid a hand down to roughly finger at your clit, the way he was stimulating your whole cunt making the entire room spin, a shaky, needy sob spilling pat your lips as your whole body was drowning in pulsing and throbbing tingles, Daryl placing another kiss to your lips as he only went faster.

"Ya like tha' huh m'lil sinner? Goin' against everythin' ya' stand fer, feels real good don' it?" He groaned the words out against your lips, and you downright whimpered at his words, heart pounding in your ears as he worked your clit, still ramming in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You couldn't think, and the only word you could muster was a small, broken "D-Daryl"

Your hips jerked down to clumsily grind against his fingers and his cock, needily chasing the building high of your second orgasm as it became difficult to keep your volume at a low, moans starting to tear themselves right out your throat.

Daryl reached an arm underneath your back and flipped you into a sitting position, straddling his lap with his fat cock now one hundred percent of the way buried inside you, so deep that you were convinced for a second that he was in your stomach. You draped your arms over his shoulders and muffled a lewd moan into his neck, the first thrust sending him deeper than ever.

He held you flush against him and bunched your dress up with one hand, and squeezed your hip with the other, letting out breathy, heavy moans of his own as he bounced you in his lap, the tight and slick drag of your raw cunt against his throbbing cock straight up addictive.

"So goddamn wet baby, ya' was saving this wet ass lil' pussy fer me huh, lil' devil?" As the man spoke, he sounded extremely winded, with deep and passionate huffs, you couldn't help but convulse around him at his words, a tiny noise leaving your lips as you clung to him tighter, whining as his hand on your hip pulled you even closer against his pelvis. "Fuck, so fuckin' perfect doll"

Only choked-off moans and whimpers came from you, trying to muffle your sounds into Daryl's neck as his cock shifted angles inside, driving himself right into a soft and squishy spot that made you mewl, the man holding you down as he continued to slam into that spot head-on. His thrusts were fast and unforgiving, fucking your cunt almost as if he hated you, but his grip was tight and protective, holding your body against his like he loved you.

Which he did, but he just didn't know how to say it. His only hope being that you could feel it in the way he fucked into you, hips starting to falter slightly as your tight cunt milked his cock, practically sucking him in and making it impossible for him to ever want to pull out.

From the way you had started to tremble and spasm around him, Daryl could tell that your orgasm was getting closer and closer, encouraging him to quicken his pace. “Gonna cum, pretty girl?” He murmured as he moved down to pepper kisses across your cheek.

“Yes! Oh my goodness yes” You moaned as your entire body pulsated, each bump of his tip to your cervix sending you further into bliss. Your arms dropped down and you curled your fingers into his sturdy shoulders for purchase as he relentlessly pounded your twitching pussy, keeping your limp body closely pressed against his.

Daryl could feel the boiling heat of his own orgasm rising in his gut, the wet and warm slide of your cunt against the throbbing pulse of his aching cock pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He hitched your dress up further as he adjusted his grip on you, speeding up his pace even more as he started to chase after his own relief, the squeeze of your soft and squishy walls practically making him drunk.

He groaned as electricity licked and burned through his veins, thoughts flashing and racing through his head. “Let me cum in ya’ doll. Gonna get ya’ nice ‘nd plumped up with a lil’ baby, huh?”

That sent tingles shooting down your spine, clenching down around his thickness at the words each time they rang out in your head. Growing up, all you've ever wanted was to have a sweet little baby of your own, and after unlocking such a world like this you couldn't possibly picture life without Daryl at your side.

"Please, please give me that" You almost whimpered as you trembled against his chest, heart pounding in your chest as a heat burned and built up in your stomach. You jerked your hips and made a clumsy attempt to rut down against him, but he tightened the hold he had on your lower half to stop your movements. "I've got ya' gorgeous, m'gon take care of ya', told ya' m'gon make ya' feel good"

Daryl readjusted his position, moving you to sit up properly and gripping you at the waist, pinning up your dress there as well as he started to bounce you in his lap, downright using your body as a sex toy as he plowed right into your sensitive sweet spot, pulling strained and guttural moans from your chest as you tried your hardest to keep your volume down as to not echo off the church's wall, biting back sobs as your hands found their way to Daryl's chest, fingers curling into the strong flesh as all the digits had a hot buzz to them, lungs suddenly not being able to take in any air as your stomach burned, toes curling in your boots and teeth clenching as a wave of scorching hot pleasure washed over your whole entire body, this time not being able to hold back the loud cry that tore it's way out your throat, uncontrollably convulsing around his cock as he thoroughly fucked you through your orgasm, muffling your pleased moans with a messy kiss.

With the way your now overly sensitive cunt squeezed and roughly gripped his pulsating dick, Daryl wasn't far behind in his orgasm, grunting into your mouth as his hips stuttered inside you, cock twitching eagerly as he pumped his load deep into the warmth of your heat, Daryl slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressing it up against yours.

When he pulled away, you were nothing but a puddle of pure jelly, going limp in his grasp as he wrapped a secure arm around your middle, moving to kiss and suck your neck as he covered you back up by dropping your dress, deciding he wanted to stay wrapped inside you a little longer.

"Are you gonna give me my panties back?" You questioned from where you now rested against his shoulder, eyes following the older mans movement as he flicked his lighter, holding the flame up to a new cigarette.

The tip burned red as he took the first and long drag, blowing the smoke up in the air and holding the cigarette away from you by stretching his arms across the bench, humming softly as if taking a moment to think. "Nah"

You pulled back from his chest and gawked at him. "No? There'll be a sticky mess between my legs in the morning!"

He smirked at you, showing a sliver of his porcelain teeth as he did. "Tha's the point, lil' sinner, yer gonna be feelin' me fer days"

The nickname made you blush, turning your head away from the man as you also considered his words, a part of you wanted to feel and experience it all over again, almost arguably a divine slice of heaven itself, and you wanted to taste it once again.

"Well you should never commit a sin twice" You mumbled instead of your real thoughts, cheeks now starting to heat up from embarrassment and a bit of shame, Daryl's cock still buried inside you as a reminder of what you had just done, a reminder that the purity and sacrality you had been preserving for your future man had been completely stripped by another.

Unless, Daryl was your future man, clenching down around him as he took another drag of his cigarette, placing a hand back over your now-covered hip, traveling up to your waist, and squeezing the flesh there. He wasn't the God-fearing, clear-minded, faithful man you had dreamed about as a little girl. Still, he was the strong, protective, and leaderful man that you had dreamed about as a young woman, the man you dreamed of to provide for you and the home you built for another, to protect and preserve the family he's made.

His hand grazed your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek and tracing over the shape of your lips. With his gentle and soft touch, you could feel each blister and callous formed on his hands, the rough feeling of hard work against your skin causing goosebumps.

"Somethin' bad gon' happen ta' us?" He questioned, talking around an exhale of smoke as he did.

"We'll go to hell, Daryl!" You rolled your eyes at him.

He lazily shrugged a shoulder, staring at you with searching eyes. "We'll go together"

Your mouth gaped at his words, stammering as you struggled to find your own. "W– Well I'd much rather prefer we go to heaven together"

"They not gon' let me in" Daryl scoffed slightly as he spoke.

"Not when you commit sins like lust, Mr. Tainted" You flicked his forehead, and he grumbled swatting your hand away, rubbing the reddening skin.

"Ain't my fault, Mrs. Holy, yer' dress leaves little ta' tha' imagination" He muttered, and your eyes widened at his words.

"Are you– My dress goes to my flipping ankles!" You picked up some of the pooled dingy fabric, tugging on it for emphasis.

Daryl shrugged again at that, his eyes now traveling the length of your body where you sat still in his lap. "Don' matter, ever since I saw tha' pretty lil' face I've wanted ta' see the rest of ya', 'nd I ain't disappointed"

You scoffed in disbelief, turning your head in an attempt to hide the heat rising to your face, speaking in a hushed whisper. "My gosh, you speak such foul words in such a sacred place"

"We jus' fucked" Daryl said bluntly, taking another drag from his cigarette as he watched you snap your neck back to him, mouth slightly agape as you scrambled for words. "Y– Yes. But, that doesn't mean you have to talk like that in God's house"

At that, Daryl's cock twitched inside you, a smirk taking over his lips "Ya' said tha' same thing before m'tongue was down yer' throat"

"Daryl!" You hissed, the man chuckling as he gripped your hip and moved to kiss at your already marked-up neck, the weight of your faith starting to weigh heavy as you felt Daryl's cock hardening to life against your walls. "Fornication is straight up breaking the laws of God. We can't– I can't do this again"

The smell of cigarettes and sex painted the church air as you planted both hands on Daryl's chest, pushing yourself up and slowly off his dick with a restrained groan, turning into a sharp gasp when the elder pulled you back down, flush against him.

"Think fornica-whatever s'allot more than jus' sex, 'cause I don' have a problem makin' ya' mines" Daryl mumbled the words into your hair, holding you to his chest with one arm and stubbing out his cigarette in the wooden bench with the other. "God can't stop me from wantin' ya', can he?"

"He can, if you don't truly want me" You muttered into his shirt, and could feel the rumble of his short laughter through his stomach. "'S'good tha' I've wanted ya' fer a while then"

You sighed as you pushed yourself up to meet his gaze, eyes sharp and focused on yours as you moved. "It's more than just want, marriage is a life-long commitment, spiritual and eternal, it's about your faithfulness and loyalty to the person you love, the person you wanna become one body with, share your body with. That's why it's important to save yourself for marriage, to keep yourself pure and clean for the one you want to share it with"

"Aren't we one righ' now?"

"I– I mean– yes, but n– not in the way God intended for us to be–"

"–Why? 'Cause we ain't married? Pretty stupid if yer' askin' me"

He took your left hand in his, bring it up to his lips and placing soft kisses on your delicate fingers, lips lingering against your ring finger.

"Don' need no God ta' tell m'tha' I do or don' love ya', 'cause I know I do, dammit woman, loved ya' since I met ya' on yer' daddy's farm" Daryl scoffed as he finally spoke his feelings into the air, listening to himself and how ridiculous he sounded.

You listened intently, staring at him with glossy eyes as he spoke, your lips twitching and tugging into a tiny smile.

A provider, a protector, a man, a real man, was what Daryl Dixon was, the type of man that you thought could only ever exist in your head and bible, yet here he was, clinging to you and holding you close to him, pressed tightly against and in you, so tight that it felt like you'd just melt right into him at any second, his heart beating erratically in his chest, so much that you could feel it against the beat of your own heart.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You whispered, watching how Daryl's eyes shifted away from yours in the embarrassed way that they always did. "Tell me!"

The man grumbled as you grabbed his face and shook his head, forcing his gaze back on you as he pulled your hands away with his, dropping them down to his chest and holding them there. "I didn' think ya'd want someone like me"

"What? Someone unholy?" You tilted your head slightly at him.

He shook his head, fingers squeezing your wrists. "Someone damaged"

"Damaged? You aren't damaged, Daryl. You're just tainted" You furrowed your brows, frowning slightly at his words.

"Ya' always say tha'" He mumbled, and you sighed. "Because there's no other way for me to put it. You're just a corrupted soul, but that doesn't mean you're a bad person"

He stared at you, licking his lips as he looked at your own, his cock twitching back to life again. "Even if I wanna corrupt ya' too?"

"And how exactly would you do that?" You laughed, but couldn't ignore the heat starting to pool in your gut, feeling a familiar buzz in your fingertips as Daryl ran his hands up your thigh, bunching the fabric of your dress all the up past your tits, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as the cold air hit them, the older man pulling you close and popping one of your tender nipples into his mouth, rocking his hips to full hardness. "M'gonna slut ya' out, pretty girl. Gonna turn ya' into my sweet lil' sinner, a little holy fuckdoll"

"I'm not a sex toy" You whined as he dragged his tongue across your boobs, involuntarily clenching around him as you tried to defend yourself, but Daryl laughed lowly as he trailed his lips up to the skin of your neck, kissing his way up to your ear and taking the lobe between his teeth. "Not yet, gorgeous, not yet"

GUYS. GUYS I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ANY OF THIS I SWEAR.

I can't believe its done??? I've snipped so many snippets, cut so much out, stared at it for so long, and now its done (after a few decades) so I hope that everyone who I hyped up for this fic was satisfied and it was everything that I had made it out to be

Anyways this fic wouldn't have even existed without @tylermaxxine the local instigator and chronic coffee chugger

[suzukiblu]

. . . anyway LISTEN I told 'yall November was gonna be "obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU" month, and I really did not INTEND to post my daily words for it again this year but also, like, fuck it, we ball. No promises I will update EVERY day this time around but again: fuck it, we ball. ( also uhhhhh I've been writing this fic kinda-sorta-semi out of order lately but there is still a significant chunk of word count I'd already written that I would've pre-gamed and posted YESTERDAY if I'd thought I was gonna be doing this, sooooo hope nobody minds us kickin' off the month with like an extra 5.9k on top of the 1.6k of obligatory sugar that I ACTUALLY wrote today behind this here cut? yes? no?? Bueller???? )

get sugared, Super-boytoy. Tim, you just . . . you just do your future-supervillain best over there, buddy. you just do what you can with yourself. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I wanted to,” Tim says again, and Kon glances away and bites his lip, turning the flowers by the stem again. 

“It’s, uh–pretty,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s–cool. Thanks.” 

“If I can’t bring you fresh ones, well . . .” Tim shrugs. Kon glances back to him, and very briefly presses one of the orchid blooms against his own mouth. His face is still all flushed and his eyes are still a little soft, and it’s . . . it makes a picture, alright, even if it's not one Tim's specifically set up to take. Especially with the gold eyeliner and his blue eyes both matching the orchids. 

Tim didn't plan that, obviously, but he thinks it makes up for the sapphire versus ruby thing.

“Um . . .” Kon trails off, biting his lip. Glances down at the orchids from under his lashes. It doesn't make him any less of a picture, for sure. “So, um–do you wanna see the ‘something nice’ I got?” 

Tim blinks, immediately thinks of the most embarrassing option that Kon could possibly mean, and desperately tries to fight back a mortified flush at the idea. But, well–everything he can see Kon wearing is something he remembers buying him already, so . . . 

Oh god, he needs his brain to shut up right now. Immediately. Right now and immediately and forever. 

“Sure,” he says like a normal person, trying not to panic. “What is it?” 

Kon, thank god, pulls a little rectangular package inexplicably–and inexpertly–wrapped in newspaper comics out of the same coat pocket he tucked the jewelry box in. There's plain white string tied around it in a bow. 

Tim . . . blinks. 

If he didn't know better, he'd think Kon had . . . 

“I, um, got you something?” Kon says, and Tim stares blankly at the package. He–what? “For once, anyway. Well, I guess, uh, technically you got it for yourself, and actually this is kinda stupid maybe, you can literally just get yourself whatever you want whenever, obviously, but I just thought, uh–” 

“You got me something?” Tim repeats in surprise. Kon turns pink and shoves the package at him. Tim is too bewildered not to take it. 

“I thought it’d be, uh–fun,” he says, biting his lip and still very visibly blushing. “I mean–that we could have some fun with it. Y’know?” 

Tim stares at the package for another moment, then looks up at Kon. Alright, this maybe isn’t exactly the vibe he was going for here in terms of who’s paying for what and who’s giving things to who, but . . . well, Kon apparently used his allowance for whatever this is, at least, which gives him a reason to have wanted the allowance, so . . . he can work with that, he figures. Like, it’s an “in” to work from; a step in the process. 

He can’t tell what Kon’s gotten him from the shape of the package, though the edges are hard even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in a box or anything. “Have some fun” isn’t much of a clue, though he supposes it does imply something interactive. Maybe it’s a game of some kind, or–

Tim unties the bow and splits apart the clumsy seam of the comic-page wrapping paper with his thumb, tugging through its layers to reveal the package’s contents, and Kon flushes a little darker and watches him just a little bit nervously. 

Tim doesn’t actually know what to say. 

“I just thought, um, a real one’d probably take better pictures than a phone can,” Kon says sheepishly, slanting his eyes away and half-hiding his face behind the orchids. “I made sure the battery was charged and the guy at the store said it's got a lot of storage, I guess, so . . .” 

“You got me a camera,” Tim says blankly, which is the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him short of, like . . . no, it’s pretty much just the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. By far it’s the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. 

“You like taking pictures, right?” Kon fidgets a little, then smiles just barely shyly as he glances back at him. Tim's heart skips a few beats. Or more than just “a few”, maybe. “So, um–I thought maybe we could go do that . . . somewhere. You know, after dinner.” 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him a little stupidly. It’s not a particularly good camera, honestly–like, it’s a perfectly functional model for casual amateur use and a decently reliable commercial brand, but he’s got much better ones that are all professional-quality. He hasn’t used any of them in a while and most of them are admittedly a few years old now, but . . . yeah, this was a hundred bucks max, if that, and his cheapest camera was over five hundred. 

Note to self: raise Kon’s allowance. 

Also, apparently now his favorite camera is the kind of camera civilian amateurs just take random family photos on. Apparently that’s a thing. 

Tim really doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kon not only remembered something he mentioned having an interest in, Kon bothered to actually get him something he thought he’d have an interest in. That is really, really not the dynamic he’s been encouraging here, for one thing. And also, why even would Kon do that? Like–really? 

“Thanks,” Tim says sincerely, turning the camera over in his hands and feeling incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “I love it.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, biting his lip around a smile. His face is still a little pink and he looks all soft and pretty like that, especially with the flowers still in his hand. Tim really was not prepared for Kon having “soft and pretty” in his repertoire. Like, that was not a thing he ever expected to see from his cocky, crowing brawler of a teammate. 

Kon’s only a brawler because he thinks he’s supposed to be, though, Tim’s pretty sure. Like–increasingly sure, at this point. 

He really, really needs to figure out how to get Kon to tell Robin more about his TTK. Or, like . . . anything about it, apparently. Just literally any single thing, at this point. 

“Thank you,” he says again, inspecting the camera assessingly and making note of all its functions and ports and the generally obvious basics. “We could go take some shots around downtown later, if you’re up for that?” 

Kon turns bright red, and Tim doesn’t understand for about half a second before remembering–the last time Kon had talked to him about taking pictures, he’d offered . . . 

Oh Jesus. 

Tim is either incredibly stupid or–actually, he doesn’t even know. Lucky? Embarrassing? The dumbest moron alive who didn’t even realize he was being flirted with again? All those things and several even worse ones? 

Kon had offered to let him take spicy pics of him the last time they'd talked about taking pictures, whatever “spicy” means to Kon–brash, impulsive, shameless Kon–and Tim’s the idiot whose first thought upon Kon following up that conversation by very literally giving him a camera was to go take pictures of fucking downtown.

He is the most useless “sugar daddy” to ever sugar. 

Well, to be fair, it is Gotham downtown, so it’s very–

“I like taking pictures of streets and buildings,” he blurts belatedly, fumbling to sound like just the oblivious idiot that he is and not some kind of weird fucking perv who’s trying to get Kon arrested for public indecency. Jesus, he’s stupid. “And people-watching is interesting too. You know, stuff like that.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks several ways at once, including both a little relieved and a little disheartened, which . . . okay, Tim would literally die if they actually went somewhere to take spicy pics tonight, so is unfortunately unavoidable. He’s not trying to make Kon not feel–attractive or anything, but he needs at least twenty-four hours to make a plan and also two or three or seventeen contingency plans before . . . anything like that happens. Ever. Even in theory. “Um–yeah, sure. That sounds cool.” 

“Cool,” Tim says, still desperately pretending to be an idiot. It’s not hard, on account of the fact that he very much is an idiot. 

Kon pauses for a moment, then perks up a little, seeming to think of something, and asks–“When’s dinner?” 

“Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes,” Tim says, double-checking the time on his phone just to be sure. “Well, forty-six. I figured that’d let us take our time walking over and maybe we could window-shop a little on the way.” 

And also shop-shop a lot, if Kon gives him literally even the slightest indication that he wants or needs something. Just if it comes up or anything. That’s all. 

Tim definitely did plan their route to the restaurant to cut straight through the middle of the downtown shopping district, either way. 

“We could’ve just met there, dude,” Kon says wryly, but grins anyway, glancing down at the orchids in his hand again. “Forty-six minutes, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Tim confirms. 

“And you like taking pictures of streets and buildings?” Kon asks, his grin turning just a little bit sly. Tim frowns briefly in confusion, not sure what the grin’s about. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotham has a lot of really interesting architecture and design. Like, it’s an old city, and one that’s been pretty resistant to updates in a lot of areas or just not had the money for those updates. So you get a lot of places with a lot of character and it’s basically the bastard child of gothic and art deco design with a side of industrial warehouse, depending on the part of town you’re in. Like, Crime Alley and the Diamond District have very different vibes, but they’re both very Gotham vibes, if you know what to look for. It’s–” 

Kon is grinning really widely at him, for some reason. Tim realizes he’s rambling like a moron and turns red. 

“Uh,” he says, repressing a wince. “Yes. Yeah. I like taking pictures of streets and buildings.” 

“Cool,” Kon says, and then he carefully packs the orchids back into their box and it back into the gift bag and transfers the chocolates and jewelry back into it too, then grins even wider at him as he hooks the bag’s handles over his arm and into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t drop the camera, babe.” 

“Wha–” Tim starts to say, and then Kon grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the closest alley, which is terrible survival instincts for Gotham, oh god, but before Tim can say anything about that Kon’s wrapped an arm around his waist just tight enough to just barely lift him off his feet and bolted straight up into the air with him. “Shit!”

Tim doesn’t drop the camera because he’s held onto cameras while falling off literal buildings before, but definitely only because of that. Muscle memory, or whatever. Also he’s been snatched off his feet by Bruce and Dick plenty of times and thrown off rooftops by multiple rogues and thugs over the years and these days gets regularly dragged around by Bart, all while holding very important things he could not afford to drop, so it’s not like either the sudden jolt or the effort to keep his grip on the camera are as disorienting as it otherwise would be. Just . . . 

Ugh, Tim realizes, absolutely unimpressed with himself upon realizing that the breathless feeling he’s having right now is not actually related to the swift and sudden increase in altitude, but is actually just because it’s Kon holding him. 

He is an idiot, isn’t he, he reflects resignedly. Just an actual literal idiot. 

Jesus. 

“Whatcha think?” Kon asks with a grin as he comes to a stop in mid-air with him. He stops very suddenly, but Tim notices a distinct lack of jarring with said stop, which implies Kon’s got his TTK around him again and probably completely around him, which means–

Oh god, Tim thinks, and very quickly makes himself stop thinking about that. 

“It’s cool,” he says, because a normal civilian would think flying was something interesting and unusual, but it’s hard to act too excited about a move Kon probably pulls on literally everyone he–

“I meant the view, babe!” Kon says with a laugh, and Tim . . . blinks. 

And then he looks down. 

They’re hovering a few thousand feet up, and downtown is already lit up bright in the early evening gloom. And Kon . . . 

“Streets and buildings, as ordered,” Kon says, grinning wider with a smug, cocky look on his face. 

Oh no, he’s hot, Tim realizes with dread, and then blinks again. Stares down at the city below, past the whipping wind and down into the busy streets and the bright, dazzling lights cutting through the murky gloom. He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, obviously, because of course he has–he’s been climbing these rooftops for years, and every night he runs across and swings back and forth between them and utterly fails to learn how to do more than a double backflip. 

One day, he promises himself distractedly, and then looks back at Kon. 

He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, but never just because someone thought he’d like it. Like–not like this, he means. Dick's shown him a few particularly special or exhilarating views over the years, yeah, but . . . definitely not like this. Not for a reason like this. 

And definitely not while peacocking all smug and pretty dressed up in clothes that he bought him and holding him close enough to kiss. 

Kon’s expression turns a little sheepish; a little soft. Not quite shy, but . . . 

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice pitched a little quieter, and Tim has the much worse and even more dread-inducing realization of oh no, he’s CUTE.

He swallows, briefly, and feels his face burn. 

“Yeah,” he manages in an almost-normal voice. “I like it.” 

Kon grins at him, brighter than any city light, and Tim barely keeps himself from dropping the camera after all. 

“Thanks,” he attempts awkwardly, making himself focus on the camera and resisting the urge to take an immediate shot of that city-light grin. 

Then he takes one anyway, because of course he does. Kon laughs in surprise, then makes a face at him teasingly. 

“Hey, you can buy this face in any cheap gossip rag, focus on the fun stuff,” he jokes, jerking his head towards the city below. Tim looks searchingly at him for a moment, and then for obvious reasons snaps another picture. Kon flushes a little again. They probably won't even come out from this close, but . . . 

“You’re the most fun I’ve had all week,” Tim says, which is definitely too honest but clearly necessary to make a point of saying. Kon turns redder, ducking his head and grinning around his bitten lip. 

“You don’t have to say that kind of thing to me, man,” he says, and it comes across almost like a reflex. Tim hates . . . yeah, just literally everybody Kon’s ever known in his whole entire life, actually? Like, pretty much everybody? Bart gets a break because he grew up alone in VR and is therefore terrible with people and the girls get a break because they haven’t known any of them that long, but everybody else can just take a long walk off a short gutter, in Tim’s opinion. 

Especially any “everybody” from Cadmus. 

Or Metropolis, at this point. 

“I’m not saying anything I don’t want to say,” he says simply, and goes to the effort to frame a few shots of the skyline so Kon will know he appreciates . . . well, not the angle, exactly, but the thought. 

Technically he is usually on top of a building when he’s doing this, so the angle is actually a slightly different one than he’s used to–not that he’s been taking photos lately, just–not the point, really. Kon got him a camera and brought him up here because he clearly thought he’d like it, and damned if Tim is gonna do anything to make him think he doesn’t. 

He has better cameras for things like this–aerial shots and night photography and long-distance and the like, and better cameras for closeup candids too–but he already knows these pictures are all going to be exactly what he wants them to be, even the ones that don't come out. 

Or especially those, maybe. 

He's not sure how he'd explain that feeling to someone else. 

Kon flies them around, staying out of sight behind the light pollution and among the shadows of the buildings, and Tim takes . . . a lot more pictures than he needs to, actually. He was just trying to make sure Kon knew he appreciated him thinking of him, but actually . . . 

Well. 

It’s fun, that’s all. 

It’s . . . been a while, kinda, since he got to spend this much time on just photography and nothing else. Or–any time at all, really. 

Not that this is nothing else, obviously, given that Kon’s holding him and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything besides that, but it is the kind of a view a standard civilian never gets, and it’s kind of nice to be flying for non-work-related reasons, for once. Like . . . novel, he guesses. A different experience. 

Technically he and Dick do “fly” together just for fun, sometimes, but that’s different. Like–so many kinds of different. It helps them in their work–keeps the rooftops familiar and them both in shape and in sync–but he can’t take photos when he’s trying to keep up with Nightwing across the rooftops of Gotham, and it’s not like Dick’s carrying him either. 

Also, it’s much less flustering and difficult to concentrate through, because again, Dick is not carrying him, and also Dick doesn’t do things like wear clothes he bought or do his eyeliner and paint his nails for him. Or, uh . . . anything like that. 

Also, definitely the “spicy pics” thing is not at all a thing, with Dick. Like, not even slightly, in any way whatsoever. And they’ve also never made out in a changing room or the back of a planetarium or– 

Look, there’s a lot of ways it’s different, okay? 

A lot of ways. 

“I'm not boring you, am I?” Tim asks a little bit sheepishly as Kon lands them on a ledge just behind one of the bigger gargoyles, tucked in tight in the shadows between it and the building it's perched on. “We can probably still fit in some window-shopping before dinner, if you want.” 

“Oh my god, dude, I promise we can do things you don't have to spend money on,” Kon says with a laugh as he lets him down on the ledge. “Though if it helps you technically did spend money on this, given how I got the camera and all.” 

“It's your allowance,” Tim says, because he wants to make sure Kon actually gets that. “You can spend it however you want.” 

“Well, I spent it how I wanted,” Kon says, and then steps closer into his space with a smile. Tim ends up sitting on the gargoyle’s back as Kon leans down to kiss him, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone while perched on a gargoyle before, but somehow it feels like something new anyway. New and electric, bright and easy and smeared with the city lights and thrilling in its shadows, and– 

Kon breaks off the kiss, though he keeps a hand on Tim’s arm, probably to make sure the squishy untrained civilian won't accidentally fall off the ledge and get splatted on the concrete. Tim barely holds himself back from chasing his mouth. 

“It's cool, anyway. Um, doing stuff you're into with you, I mean,” Kon says, looking a little soft and almost-shy again, and never mind, Tim not only needs to chase his mouth, he needs to set up a damn manhunt for it. “You're real cute when you get excited, man. I mean, uh–just–” 

The manhunt is going to require a very significant budget, Tim notes. 

Then he kisses him again, obviously. Kon melts down into it–into him, really–and wraps his arms around his neck, and Tim feels several kind of ways about it. Admittedly, it's the easier option with him sitting on the gargoyle and Kon leaning over him, but Kon's put his arms around his neck a couple of times now, and, well . . . 

That's just not something he would've expected from him, he guesses. Not “cool” or masculine or badass or . . . whatever, exactly, Kon thinks he's supposed to be. 

So Tim . . . likes it, he thinks, that Kon doesn't seem to think he needs to be like that around Tim Drake. 

Robin’s sure as hell never seen Kon in eyeliner. 

Robin's loss, Tim thinks. 

. . . maybe he's compartmentalizing a little too much these days, but still. 

Kon makes a very, very soft little sound between their mouths and then laughs, and Tim promises himself he won't stop at Gotham: he'll take over Metropolis for this asshole one day. Even if that means putting up with Lex Luthor and Superman. And also, like . . . everything about Metropolis. 

He'll figure it out. Supervillainy is still a long-term plan, so he's got time. 

Anyway, if he gives it to Kon after he takes it over he won't have to put up with it, so it's whatever. Sugar daddies do that kind of thing, right? Get their sugar-ees a city? 

. . . okay, definitely not. Like, very definitely not. 

“Okay date idea, then?” Kon asks as he leans back a bit and does a very bad job of biting back a smile, his face a little flushed and arms squeezing a little tighter around his neck. 

Tim will get him Metropolis if it kills Lex Luthor. 

“Very okay,” he says, smiling back at him. Kon grins, his face turning just a little bit redder, and then kisses him again. Tim has absolutely no complaints about that. Ever. He can’t even imagine a complaint he’d have about that, in fact. 

Worst case scenario, he’ll get them in at another restaurant if they miss their reservation. 

He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to do about how easy Kon blushes. 

They definitely spend too long making out against the gargoyle and Tim definitely lets himself get too riled up during it–and does not think about tactile telekinesis or any kind of related passive perception while he does–but by the time he’s the one pressing Kon back against the building, he really doesn’t care anymore. 

The fact Kon is even willing to let him do that when there is literally no way Tim could ever actually pin him anywhere without a way to sabotage his powers is . . . really, really distracting. Just–so distracting. 

Jesus, Tim thinks, breaking off just long enough to catch his breath for a moment. Kon pants softly against his mouth, which sabotages that even worse than kryptonite would sabotage TTK. 

Jesus, Tim thinks again, and then crushes their mouths back together. 

He doesn’t need to breathe that often. 

Kon makes a softer, breathier sound this time, and Tim does not let himself make it weird by letting his hands wander anywhere outside of second base territory. Frankly he’s not sure second base territory isn’t him making it weird, but Kon started it, so hopefully it’s not? Like–logically it’d follow that Kon wouldn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want touched, right? 

Well–hopefully, anyway. 

The air feels tight, Tim notices suddenly, like the feeling of sinking into deeper pressure when underwater but all at once, and then realizes–oh. 

Uh. 

Okay. 

“Um,” he says, and immediately the feeling of pressure vanishes as Kon jerks back and claps a hand over his own mouth. Which is mostly him pushing Tim back, given their position, but he does crack the brickwork behind him a little. 

Whoops, Tim thinks. 

“Sorry!” Kon blurts. “Sorry, sorry, that’s–sorry! I just, uh–got a little too into it. I won’t do it again.” 

“It’s really not a problem,” Tim says, with absolutely no idea how to take the idea of Kon getting “a little too into it” when kissing him, or the idea that getting a little too into it apparently involves getting wrapped up in TTK a lot more noticeably than making him bulletproof at the museum did. “I mean–it didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.” 

“I–yeah, I know, it’s just–weird,” Kon says, still looking mortified. “So–sorry. That’s all.” 

“I don’t mind weird,” Tim says, because actually the idea of being temporarily at least as invulnerable as Kon is while making out with him implies being able to devote a lot more attention to said making out, as opposed to keeping half an eye out for snipers or rogues or random rooftop criminals. Not that he’d stop paying any attention to that, obviously, just–yeah. Well. 

It’s a little tempting, that’s all. 

“Uh–you don’t?” Kon bites his lip, still looking a little embarrassed. 

“It kind of just felt like scuba-diving, but with less equipment involved,” Tim says with a little shrug, keeping his tone light because “seriously, you have no idea how much I’d like to not be compulsively keeping an eye out for snipers right now” isn’t a very “civilian” thing to say. “And I’m not about to complain about you enjoying kissing me that much either way.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and flushes a little. “Uh–really?” 

“Really,” Tim says, smiling at him again and tugging gently at the lapels of his jacket to pull himself back in. Kon blushes, and grins, and meets him halfway for the kiss. The sensation of pressure wraps him up again, gentle but undeniable, and Tim feels several kinds of ways about it. 

Maybe even a little bit safe, or at least as safe as anyplace outside the Batcave ever gets. 

Tim knows there’s no such thing as being perfectly, completely safe, but getting all wrapped up in Kon’s TTK and kissed for it makes it hard to remember that. 

Very, very hard. 

They spend a much longer time making out this time. Tim is vaguely aware that they still have a dinner reservation to make, but . . . well, he did pad the time to allow for window-shopping, so even with the time they spent flying around taking pictures, it's probably fine? 

Yeah, no, they’ve definitely missed their reservation by now. Probably way past missed it. Just so, so far past missed it. 

Weirdly, Tim doesn’t care as much as he should, even though he really prefers when things go to plan and also needs Kon to feel appreciated and like he got properly spoiled and taken someplace nice. He’s going to have to figure out something else on the fly, though, because he really does needs Kon to feel appreciated and also needs the excuse to get him more used to getting money spent on him and–

Tim remembers that he needs to breathe more than he's currently breathing and breaks off the kiss. Kon half-chases his mouth with his own, audibly breathless himself. Tim is not equipped to handle Kon breathless. 

That might actually be more flattering than the TTK thing. Or, uh–flustering, maybe. 

Both, maybe. “Both” is probably accurate here. 

Jesus, Tim does not know what he did to deserve Kon getting breathless over something he’s done to him, much less all soft and pretty and–

They have definitely, definitely missed their reservation. Usually Tim has a better sense of time than that, but usually Tim doesn’t have Kon wanting to make out on a Gotham rooftop with him, Like, he thinks he can forgive himself a little bit of disorientation on that one, considering. 

. . . as long as Bruce never finds out he messed up that bad, anyway. Because Bruce would definitely not like hearing he’d messed up that bad, TTK or not. 

Probably especially involving the TTK, actually. Probably Bruce would not take “yeah I let Superboy get distracted enough to unconsciously wrap me up in his Kryptonian-level superpowers while he wasn’t in full control of them and actually, like, encouraged it, kinda? like, explicitly encouraged it, actually”. 

Yeah, Bruce would not like that. 

“Um,” Tim says, and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “So, uh–hungry yet?” 

“You could say that,” Kon murmurs, then flashes him a sharp, wicked grin with his eyes slit open just enough to fix on Tim’s mouth. Tim spares a moment to compartmentalize just enough to not lose his mind about that, then makes the mistake of licking his lips anxiously, sees Kon’s hooded eyes go hot at the sight, and immediately fails to not lose his mind. 

“Uh,” he manages, and then decides they don’t really need to get dinner just yet and maybe they could just, like–no, no, Kon is definitely not getting enough calories from that stupid barely-legal underground lab’s stupid definitely-not-health-code-compliant cafeteria, Tim is not gonna be a bad enough date to not get his date a respectable amount of calories. That is just not a thing that he’s gonna, like . . . thing, as a thing. Or whatever. 

Not like Superman’s been bringing Kon casseroles or anything, the prick. 

“Um, I–uh, might’ve let us get a little too distracted, sorry,” Tim attempts after a moment of mental fumbling, making himself push back from Kon a little and pulling his phone out to check the time. Yeah, they have definitely missed their reservation. Very, very thoroughly have they missed it. 

Dammit. That is not Bat-quality situational awareness. 

“You think that was just you, man?” Kon asks with a little laugh, just barely ducking his head and biting his lip. It is . . . very distracting. As is his face. And his hands, which are still loosely on Tim’s back, and his TTK, which is still loosely . . . basically everywhere, yeah. Just–way too many places for Tim to be rational about, basically. 

“I mean, I was the one who made the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly as he does his best to at least fake rationality. “So, uh, I should’ve been paying attention to the time. I can see if there’s someplace we can still slip in, it’s a little last-minute for a Friday but–” 

Kon kisses him again. 

Tim was saying something, he’s reasonably sure, but he couldn’t remember whatever it was with a gun to his head. A gun to his head while out of his suit and without Kon on the same floor as him, to be clear. 

Kon leans back and grins at him, all bright and pretty and cutting right through the shade and shadows of Gotham like a spotlight-signal lighting up the cloud cover. Tim remains vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing . . . something. At some point. In theory. 

God, Kon is so pretty. So, so pretty. And everything he’s wearing is something Tim bought him, coat and clothes and jewelry and all. Just–all of it, as far as he can see. 

Tim does not let himself think about what else Kon might or might not be wearing right now. Just–that way lies madness, and also Kon not getting a decent dinner and decent spoiling. 

. . . there’s probably some other ways Tim could spoil him, technically, if he just– 

Tim does not finish that thought. 

“You’re so fucking cute, daddy,” Kon says, still grinning just as signal-bright and pretty at him. Tim is not prepared for literally any of that and nearly melts right off the ledge into an incoherent mess of street pizza. 

“Uh,” he says, swallowing roughly. “We should–are you hungry yet?” 

Kon laughs, for some reason. Tim very quietly and carefully burns alive, and then Kon floats up a few inches and ducks around him and back out into the open air, leaning down to grin at him and reaching to–probably he’s intending to pick him up again, Tim’s brain is vaguely aware, but the rest of Tim is thinking more like hurr durr pretty boy, which is definitely why he ends up reaching up to cup Kon’s face in his hands and tug him down for another kiss, pushing himself up on his toes on the edge of the ledge to reach him easier. Kon makes a soft, breathless little noise, then laughs in delight and kisses him back. 

The wind is cold and sharp and the evening sky is all heavy dark clouds and hazy light pollution and Kon’s wearing clothes Tim bought him, some of which Tim even suggested to him, and he put on makeup and painted his nails to come see him and he’s got a gift bag of little things Tim picked out for him hooked in the crook of his elbow and he liked all of those little things, and they’ve not only missed but obliterated their dinner reservation, and they’re half-on a ledge high above the street and kissing and Kon is just so pretty.

And Kon also bought him a camera and brought him up here because he thought he’d like it and called him “cute”, which are all facts that Tim is definitely going to have to compartmentalize to fully process later, or else he really will melt right off the stupid ledge. 

The spicy pics thing, also, is a thing. The spicy pics thing is, uh–very much a thing. 

Tim is maybe just never gonna process that particular fact in, like, self-defense. 

Ever. 

. . . god, he’s going to have to process that fact at some point, isn’t he. God. That is . . . that is a whole thing that he is going to have to do. Like, effectively and well and throughly.

Maybe it’s not too late to just go supervillain right now, actually. Maybe Kon would be open to, like, minionhood or something. Lots of supervillains put their minions up in their lairs, right? That’s totally a thing, isn’t it? 

Ugh, no, Kon deserves a place he can really feel like is his place and also he has not laid near enough groundwork to get Dick to switch sides. Like, Alfred would, obviously. Alfred will be on-board the second the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan comes up and will probably have useful notes to add. But Dick is gonna require some more long-term finessing and Babs definitely won’t come if Dick doesn’t and– 

Kon laughs into the kiss and cups Tim’s face in return, which is incredibly distracting, and then squishes his face, which is incredibly annoying. 

“Hey!” Tim sputters, and Kon laughs again and leans back just enough to grin at him. 

“You are so weird, dude,” he says. “I can literally hear you thinking.” 

“. . . that’s not me being detached from the situation, I–” Tim starts, unable to repress a wince, and Kon just grins wider, grabs his wrists, and tugs him off the ledge and–oh, okay, that’s a weird sensation, Tim notes, because gravity does absolutely nothing at all to him until Kon’s pulled him into his arms and wrapped him up in them again all easy and secure. . 

So that’s . . . yeah, no, “incredibly distracting” isn’t actually gonna cover this one, considering. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking a couple of times. That. That is definitely not how Superboy holds Robin. 

Frick. 

“I just gotta keep you better attached, right, daddy?” Kon purrs–really purrs, his chest briefly vibrating against Tim’s–and then grins wider at him again with eyes that are, unfortunately, literally goddamn sparkling right now–thanks, gold eyeliner, Tim didn’t need those higher thought processes–before giving him another quick little kiss that Tim actually would like to turn into a four-hour make-out session and maybe also a sleepover and–

God he needs to remember how to compartmentalize. He really, really needs to remember how to compartmentalize. 

Also he needs to kiss Kon’s literal friggin’ brains out, the smug friggin’ asshole.

Mid-air makeouts are the worst possible idea Kon has ever inflicted on him and Tim would sooner fight Killer Croc without his utility belt than point that fact out to him. 

He winds his arms around Kon’s neck and kisses him back, and Kon makes this tiny little–not pleased, not content, but actually happy-sounding noise and kisses back harder. Tim feels gravity stop being a particularly relevant concern again and feels like he’s floating in deep, heavy water but also like he’s the lightest he’s ever been in his life, and it is . . . it is a feeling, alright. 

Kon is a menace. Kon is a problem. 

Kon is so, so damn cute. 

“You are an actual literal brat, baby,” Tim mutters slightly more feelingly than he means to, and Kon’s laugh comes out a little breathier this time and he ducks his head to the side and his face flushes and–

No. Nope. No. Tim needs to not learn anything new about himself or Kon tonight, or, worse, anything about him and Kon. That is just not a thing he has time for in his schedule. He’s got to fit in an anxiety attack and three full files’ worth of casework this weekend, for one, plus his science presentation and that make-up book report, and also come up with someplace else nice enough to take Kon to dinner tonight. 

“So, uh–dinner?” he says very quickly–self-defense, again–and Kon bites his lower lip and grins around it, his face still turned just a little bit away. Tim pretends they’re not effectively pressed together from knee to neck right now. Pretends valiantly. “I mean–um, if you’re hungry yet.” 

Kon laughs, ducking his head lower, the dangling gold teardrop hanging from his ear gleaming warmly in the murky electric city light. Tim goes through multiple stages of emotional processing to keep himself from kissing his neck right behind that earring and completely forgetting about not only dinner, but all his homework and casework and even the anxiety attack. 

Does Kon laugh this much around Robin? 

Tim really doesn’t feel like he does. 

He also doesn’t tell Robin very important things like the fact that he can make other people bulletproof on a whim and map out an entire mall just by standing in it, which is objectively much worse and potentially dangerous a thing not to do, but also Tim is already positive he’s going to miss that laugh like crazy every time he sees Kon with the mask on. 

Robin doesn’t get to see Kon like this at all, even when he lets the asshole eat both stupid boxes of cinnamon bread. 

“Dinner, yeah,” Kon says, grinning again and then taking off backwards across the sky, apparently unconcerned about their chances of hitting a building. Tim’s not really in a proper carry so much as just stretched out against him and wrapped up in his arms, but given the nature of how Kon’s powers work, an actual carry is obivously not really a concern, so . . . 

Oh, Tim realizes as Kon tips back just enough to be reclining in the air, still flying without any apparent care or concern for the aerodynamics of the situation or anything but staying more or less out of view of anyone on the street below. 

Avoiding the street view is good. 

The part where now he’s essentially laying on top of Kon is . . . less good, maybe. 

Maybe he won’t have to convince Kon to go supervillain, at least. Maybe Kon’s already there. 

“Where to, daddy?” Kon asks with a smirk, keeping one arm looped around Tim’s waist and folding the other behind his own head like he’s laying out in a lounge chair on the beach. Tim thinks longingly of smothering him and also of getting him to take down his TTK so he could bite a hickey or five into his neck. Maybe six. He could probably do six. 

Or seven. 

“Northeast towards Broad Street,” Tim says as he tips his head in the appropriate direction, then pulls up the camera again and snaps a quick shot of Kon’s smug smirk, which immediately breaks into a surprised laugh as the other flushes again. 

He takes a picture of that too. 

“You flirtin’ again already, man?” Kon asks with a sheepish little laugh, like the bastard has any room to talk. 

“The position’s pretty good for it, that’s all,” Tim says with a level of casualness he absolutely does not feel. Kon flushes darker and bites his lip again, still just barely grinning. Tim, ethically, has no choice but to take a few more pictures. 

“Oh my god,” Kon says, laughing again and unfolding the arm he has tucked behind his head to hide his eyes behind instead. Tim is maybe a little bit too aware of the line of his throat under the neck of his shirt, without his eyes and the sparkle there to be distracting him into a useless stupid mushbrained might-as-well-be-a-civilian, observationally-speaking. “I’m not a building, you absolute nerd!” 

“I said I liked people-watching too, didn’t I?” Tim points out reasonably, though mostly his brain’s occupied with the question of–“Hey. If you let down your TTK a bit, could a baseline-DNA human give you a hickey? Like, is that physically possible, or are you too Kryptonian for that?” 

“Oh my god,” Kon repeats, laughing harder even as the flush on his face spreads down his neck. Tim wonders how warm that might feel under his mouth. “I, uh–dunno, man. Maybe?” 

Tim silently resolves himself to finding literally any excuse to conduct that experiment and moves a hand to cup the side of Kon’s throat, eyeing it consideringly. Kon makes a slightly weird noise and visibly swallows, and Tim belatedly realizes that he’s paid literally no attention whatsoever to whether or not they’re about to hit a building or a flagpole or a roof this entire flight; he just assumed Kon had it handled. The Bat-paranoia kicks in and he glances up reflexively, and just as reflexively slides the pad of his thumb across Kon’s pulse. Their flight path is clear; they’re high enough to avoid most of the buildings in this area. Definitely still gonna need to keep an eye out for radio towers and billboards, but . . . 

Kon swallows again, the gesture a little bit rough this time. Tim feels the other’s throat flex against his palm. That sure is . . . that sure is a thing that Tim feels right there. That invulnerable throat flexing right there against his palm, and maybe not necessarily having to be invulnerable, if Kon didn’t want it to be. 

. . . . . . he already said he didn’t have time to learn anything new about himself tonight, dammit.

[multch]

Accident.

No outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader [18+] CW: Unspecified age gap \ touching \ suggestive content\ afab Reader

After a wardrobe malfunction at the beach, Mr Miller decides he’s gotten too close- enough is enough- but he couldn't have anticipated the constant teasing that would follow suit..

Sand, sun and some eye-candy, Nothing could be better than this!

Finally coming back home felt fantastic after months away at college. Not only would you get to crash on the much larger bed of your old room but you would also be around for the elaborate summer holidays your parents would take.

Your family was enthusiastic.. To say the least. They were always ecstatic when it came to organizing what annual ‘event’ they would host. You hoped it would be just a simple trip with you and your siblings like last year- maybe someplace where you wouldn’t have to suffer the sweltering heat waves that summer kept offering- Like England or Newzeland!

Unfortunately, your parents had something else in mind:

The beach.

With people you hardly know.

With THE Joel Miller practically babysitting you while they organize it.

Fuck.

Joel Miller has been a friend of both of your parents for a few years now. Having first met him as a helping hand while officially moving out of your parents’ house, he’s proven himself exceptionally helpful. You almost feel bad- You know your dad always makes sure he’s paid for his work, however; you felt like you, personally, had never thanked him properly.

Heck- You’d be happy to thank him quite thoroughly if you know what I mean… 

You could never shake the thoughts you've had since you two first locked eyes. A simple gesture sparking many moons of passionate yearning. Thinking about his muscular arms, his sculpted face and the dark tone of his restless voice. Perhaps even the sounds it would make if your hands wandered achingly slow down his solid chest and towards his big, hard, throbbing…

You wish! Your little crush on him was absolutely trampled on 2 years ago by the sly comment you heard him tell your parents one night. Apparently he had started dating again- probably found someone already, afterall, it has been 2 years..

Still… you couldn’t help but wonder if a beach party could be your chance- maybe not to do.. anything… but you could at least muster up the courage to ask him if he's taken or not.

Right?

You felt butterflies in your stomach, swearing this was a make or break decision.

It took hours of pacing and rapid texting-the night before- but finally you had picked out the perfect bikini for tonight.

It was baby-blue in a gingham print. The bikini itself tied together on both hips and one in-between your breasts- joining in a dainty little bow you had spent ages worrying if it didn't look “effortless enough.” It was cute enough to be semi casual while being mature enough that your relatives wouldn't keep acting like you were an actual child.

You couldn’t help but second guess yourself… Was the effort really worth it? It's just a small get together after all, why would you need to impress anyone?… 

Would you actually impress him?

Could you ever impress him?

*

In the blink of an eye, you gasped at the sudden grasp around your tits. Those hands were large and powerful. They were panicked- almost hesitant however he didn’t seem too keen on letting go. As the wave finished toppling over you two, Joel swiftly pulled you around to face him.

The sight was mouth watering.

Flushed bright red, Joel was quick to glare into your eyes- His were brimming with concern yet crystal clear with honesty and the determination to protect your honor. His hair was wet and sat tousled over his eyes. You couldn’t help but gaze at his bitten lip as he concentrated so deeply between the valley of your breasts- almost as if he was staring directly into your heart. 

It thumped as if it were about to explode.

It might have taken you a few moments to realize but before you could react, Joel was already bent down and trying to re-tie the center string of your bikini top. Being so far out- the waves were ruthless. They crashed over the two of you like an avalanche.

It felt near impossible to keep your balance with Joel tugging you towards him- all the while, the moving sea pulling you-two away from shore.

Instinctively, your hands steadied yourself on Joel’s shoulders. A pink blush spread throughout your face as you began to realize how truly naked you were.

His tanned, bare shoulders were strong and toned from years of strenuous work in the blistering sun. Your exposed stomach fluttering with a flight of butterflies. The memory of his careful touch against a place so sensitive…

His motoring hands slowly came to a stop. As soon as he went to stand up, you quickly dropped your arms. Not knowing where to place them, your hands checked the tight bows around your hips. Luckily, it seemed like your bikini bottoms were secure; however, your top was another story.

The look you gave him was less than impressed…

“Shut up.” He growled without hesitance.

Oh.

It was painfully obvious he was embarrassed.

Cute, you thought.

You shot him back a sly smirk

For a man who spent so long hovering over your bust, his ability to tie the knot was sheepish. Joel had fixed a simple double knot, causing the remaining rope to dangle over your naval.

Letting out a quick sigh, you decided you had enough of the ocean for today. His eyes widened as he felt your brisk grasp on his arm- dragging him back to shore to the best of your ability.

*

Staring at your phone was useless. The mere thought of today's “incident” was enough to keep you running in circles. You sigh as you fall further into the plush cushions that lined the small sofa. Like many family functions, You've sought refuge in the same old fashioned living room. It was a cramped room tucked far within the back end of the house cluttered with old furniture. Fortunately, the abandoned room was silent compared to outside’s blaring ruckus. It was yours.

… at least, it was.

There in the door frame stood a familiar sight;

“Hey… can I speak to you,” Joel sighed, “about earlier today… I'm sorry for-”

“Groping me?” You snarked.

“God, give me a break would ‘ya,” His brows furrowed as his face slowly turned a light shade of pink, “It was either I did that or else you would’ve flashed everyone!”

For a moment, you get lost within the passionate emotion of his southern drawl. He’s so flustered; it almost seems as if he’s annoyed by you too. Maybe you were too calm? Maybe he was too embarrassed. Regardless, His outrage humored you more than you would like to admit- forcing a chuckle to erupt from within you.

“What? You think this is funny?” He spat- rolling his eyes.

"A little…”

…

The room sat still in deafening silence until…. “BAAHAHAHHAAHAAHAHA- oh my god, ok so maybe a lot,” you giggled, “I'm so sorry but really I don’t see why you care so much?”

Joel was practically fuming. Hot pink- he was humiliated “Get a grip!, damn you little-”

“Did you just tell me to get a grip? I would but it seems you’ve grabbed enough things today for the two of us-”

Before you had the chance to laugh, your eyes widened at the sight of the one and only Joel Miller rushing towards you with a salty smile and a couch pillow hurling towards you.

HWACK! You squealed at the sudden collision. Despite being a pillow, when punted hard enough at a victim, it proves itself as an effective weapon.

“GOT ‘YA!” He gasped- now standing over you. As you opened your eyes, they locked with his. 

Your mouth sat smug, readying yourself for a moment to strike back. His eyes! it was for a brief moment yet you were lucky enough to catch them darting down to your lips. 

Ha!

Your tactic: the element of surprise. When his gaze returned, it took all your power to summon the courage to muster out the question plastered across your heart for so long.

It was now or never, you assured.

“Jo- Mr Miller,” you stated, “this is so awkward but… I was wondering if you were in a relationship?”

“What's it to you?” He chuckled, shifting to rest his palm on the armrest beside you.

“I… um..” you tightened your grip on the pillow.

The look in his eyes was enough to tell you.

Fuck.

“Ah… shit.., look ‘sweetpea, y'know your daddy and I are buddies…” he tried telling you but he knew he couldn't steer you away.

“And? So what, I'm an adult,” You barked, “C'mon Joel- I really like you!”

The truth came bubbling out, you didn't expect to actually tell him. Not tonight. Not ever. Happily watching from the sidelines was a hobby- you imagined him in your future. Confessing to him; however, was never foreseen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

With your vision glossing over, this wave of dread was suffocating. Before you could excuse yourself, you felt his familiar grasp on your hand. Unlike before, his touch wasn't hesitant. Instead, his grip was determined, driven yet caring.

He grazed his thumb side to side across the back of your hand. His fingers kissing yours with each rough callous and soft intention.

The surprised action made your eyes widen, you raised your head up high only to see the sight of Joel Miller looking back at you like how one looks at a puppy- as if his heart had melted.

A bright pink flush and bitten lips, it was clear he had something to say stuck on the tip of his tongue. 

“Y/N.” 

“Joel.”

He bent down and held the side of your face. Dark and hazy, his eyes glazed over with ambition. “You're so pretty, y'know that?” He kissed onto your lips.

With that said, you stretched your arms up and placed them on his broad shoulders, merging your mouth with his. He nipped at your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave in, allowing him access to explore each and every crevice with his tongue. 

Was it mere minutes or years you had been kissing for? You couldn't tell. Regardless, at some point you had to pry yourself apart in order to grant yourself a moment to breathe. Your lips felt so tender and bruised- God, how you missed his touch.

He fell to sit beside you, the old couch creaking as he sat down. “Do you normally make out with men twice your age?” He teased.

“Oh, Shut up!” you said before chucking the pillow at his chest with a loud thud.

[latenightdaydreams]

ei, então.. pensei em algo como Trucker König! leitor x que está viajando há dias, talvez tentando fugir ou apenas conseguir algum lugar para recomeçar sua vida, ela está tão desesperada e desorientada que não percebe os avanços do caminhoneiro rude e carente por uma empresa que ele possa foder sem se preocupar, talvez ele seja um pouco carinhoso com ela, só para não assustá-la no início. é isso :3

Okay, so google translate wasn't helpful and I only know Spanish so i hope this is CLOSE to what you wanted? I kept it fluffy because of the heavy topics. Again, I'm sorry if I didn't translate it right!🩷

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Fluff so all welcome!

>cw: fem/afab, fluff, talk of traumas but no details

1.4k word count

For more click here!

Trucker!König x Runaway!Reader

König had recently retired from the military and taken a job as a trucker. It gave him a chance to see a slower pace and side of the country he always found relaxing during his military travels. Struggling with PTSD he had one final break down that lead to his early retirement. This being his first out of country assignment, to travel from Austria into Germany, he was excited to just relax on the road and be able to clear his mind. That’s how he thought it would go at least.

He saw you. Scared and clearly disoriented. König slows to a stop and pulls off the side of the road before getting out. He is aware of his size and the fact his face is covered in scars, so he tries to approach you like he would a stray dog. Hunching his shoulders he calls out, “hallo Fräulein, geht es dir gut?”

You turn with a face full of fear and tears streaming down your checks. You see a giant man speaking to you in German, a language you don’t know, and begin to cry harder.

This breaks Königs heart, he didn’t mean to cause you even more distress. He stops walking and watches you as he stands still sobbing.

“Are you okay?” He asked in English this time.

You look up registering it and you shake your head no.

He gets a better look at you and can see that your clothes are dirty and that you look like you’ve been traveling on foot for a while now. He looks around to see if you’re alone, you are.

“Miss, are you hurt? Can I help you?” His voice soft as he takes two small steps to you.

You don’t move back but just look at him. Your breathing is shaky as you nod your head again, finally you speak with a foreign accent, “I- I need help.” You begin to cry again and drop to the floor feeling your exhaustion fully take over.

König walks to you and crouches down, “Is it okay if I touch you miss? Only to carry you to the cab of the semi.”

Seeing you this way gives him flashbacks to all the disoriented women and children that would get caught in a bombing or were kept as prisoners. You have the same broke look in your eyes and he feels the overwhelming want to save you.

“It’s okay…” Your voice so meek as you just lay there.

König reaches out and scopes you up gently, as if you were made out of paper and walks you back to the cab. He buckles you in and makes sure that you’re comfortable before walking around to the drivers’ side and getting in.

He goes to the back of the cab to the cooler he keeps there and grabs a water and a sandwich he had made for himself.

“Here, please drink and eat. There is more if you need it.” He hands them to you as you look up at him.

Slowly you extend you hands to grab the food items from him. You look at them for a while them over to him as he sits down in the driver seat.

“Why are you being so nice?” You question him, not trusting it’s out of the kindness of his heart.

“Because you need help and its just the right thing to do.” His gaze is genuine as he smiles at you.

You take time to notice the scars on his face and arms, implying that maybe he has also had a hard life. You open the water and begin to chug it, it had been almost a full day in the sun without a drink. König watches you without saying a word as you chug the water bottle, he gets up and grabs you a second one quickly. You begin to open the sandwich as he changes out your empty bottle for the new in the lap. Slowly taking your first bit you watch him again.

His pale blue eyes met yours again, “Is it okay if I ask you why you were out here alone like this?”

You chew the bite of food that you had in your mouth as you decide if you want to open up to the stranger you just met.

“I only ask because I can tell you’re not from here, and you’re in pretty bad shape. I just… want to make sure nothing happened or…” He leaves the question open ended not wanting to push too much and make you uncomfortable.

You stay quiet and continue to eat, he takes the hint and nods. He isn’t mad, he just hopes he didn’t push too much. Starting the truck again, he pulls back off on to the road and begins to drive.

“So, where is your destination?” König looks over hoping the change in topic will help you begin to talk.

“I don’t have one,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“You don’t?” König is shocked to hear this, then where were you going?

“No, I don’t.” You repeat taking a drink of water.

“Well, my job is taking me to Germany.” König looks over at you. You simply nod your head again. “You can stay with me as long as you need. It’s just me anyway. My name is König, by the way.”

“I’m y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n.” König gives you a smile with teeth this time that show off his sharp K9s.

You finish eating your sandwich and then go take a nap in the back of the cab. There was a small bed with a blue blanket that you cover yourself with. Sleep came to you easily. It had been months since you were able to get a good night of rest and feel safe enough to do so.

Once you wake up you notice that the sun had completely set and it was dark out. You slowly walk back to the passenger seat and sit down. König looks over at you with kind eyes.

“Did you sleep well?”

You nod and stay quiet for a moment longer. “Thank you… for helping me, König.”

“Of course, it’s no problem.”

“Can I ask how you got all of your scars?”

König doesn’t like the talk about the past, especially not now. For you though, he is willing to tell you anything. The fact you’re opening up enough to ask his questions makes him smile and feel warm inside.

“I was in the military. I went in at 17 and I just retired last year.” He looks over at you to see your reaction to this information. You had a neutral look on your face but a softer look.

“Now you do this?”

“Ja, it is relaxing. Therapy in a way. I can just drive and forget.”

You look forward out the window as the clear night sky. Stars covering it as there were not many lights here.

“It is beautiful…” You say in a soft voice that makes Königs heart flutter. “So, you’re running away from something too.”

So, she’s a run away?

“I guess so,” König chuckles. “It’s natural to want to run from painful parts of our life.”

You stay quiet and look out at the night sky for a while and König sits with you in the silence.

“I met someone online that said they would help me escape from my abusive home life,” your voice cracks slightly. “I moved all the way here and…they…they…” you begin to cry.

König begins to stop the truck and again to pull off the side of the road. He unbuckles himself and embraces you in his arms. His massive muscular frame embracing you tightly as if he could take all the pain away. He kisses the top of your head as you continue to cry in his arms.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry the people that you were suppose to be able to trust betrayed you. You’re safe now. You can be at home with me.” He rubs your back.

His words cause your walls to come crashing down as you hug him back, clinging to him and melting into his arms. This was the first time in a very long time you felt safe and that someone’s words were genuine. With no where to call your own, you decide to stay with König and see how to trip to and from Germany goes.

Both of you broken people who so happen to cross each other’s paths when you needed someone the most.

[menagerofmischief]

Ask and you shall receive!!! With nico rosberg

Stuffed cherry tomatoes served cold with fish and chips, chicken quesillda, and spring rolls. Drinks are ice tea, black coffee, and iced water.

Have fun!! 😉

Dia's Diner Menu

stuffed cherry tomatoes sugar daddy cold appetizer rough sex fish and chips "Where are your manners" chicken quesadilla "So pretty with my cock down your throat" spring rolls "All you do is complain, perhaps I should shut you up" ice tea oral black coffee chocking iced water dirty talk

Nico Rosberg x sugar baby!reader

TW: blowjob, mean-ish!nico at the start, gagging, chocking, hair pulling

WC: 1k

A/N: nico rosberg, my favorite pop queen <3. this is actually so bad, I hate it but I'm mentally drained and this was the best I could do. also I added lance, arthur and mick to the menu if anyone is interested in requesting for them.

The whole car ride home was unsettlingly quiet. Nico was mad, I knew it. His hands gripping the steering wheel as he sped through the busy city traffic, passing cars like he was still on the track.

“Nico,” I said his name, trying to break the silence we had fallen into.

His head snapped towards me, his eyes narrowed and he gave me a look that conveyed what he wanted to say rather clearly. Stop talking.

I shut my mouth and tried to lean back into the seat of the car, knowing that we were going to be home soon and how things would go once we got there.

Soon enough we made it up to our, or rather Nico’s, penthouse. The moment the doors were shut, Nico grabbed me and pushed me against the door. 

“What was that, huh?” He asked, his voice rough. One of his hands trailed up my body and wrapped around my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. Not enough to stop my breathing, but enough to put pressure. “Is that how I taught you to behave?”

I did my best to shake my head, my cheeks warm. “No,” I said, the word coming out as a whisper. 

Nico’s eyes fixated on mine, his pupils blown wide, and desire and lust clear in his gaze. He removed his hand from my neck and I immediately sucked in a breath. Nico moved his hands down and the sound of him unbuckling his belt filled the room.

I knew the rules we played by, I should have already been getting on my knees, desperate and wide eyed and asking to pretty please, suck his dick. But my mind was blank, my eyes focused on the way his hands moved as he opened his jeans and pulled them down. On the bulge in his black boxers, on how he took them of and on his semi-hard cock.

I snapped out of my trance once Nico’s hands were on my shoulders. Without a warning he pushed me down, making my knees hit the floor. I hissed at the contact, the tiles cold and digging into my naked skin.

I whined, looking up at him through my lashes. “You pushed me,” I said, pouting my lips. “That’s mean, Nico. You could have bruised my knees.”

I was going to keep talking but Nico grabbed my chin roughly, towering over me and looked down into my eyes. “All you do is complain,” he said, the tone of his voice dark. “Perhaps I should shut you up.”

With one hand he grabbed ahold of his dick, giving himself a few tugs and growing harder before slapping the tip against my lips. When I noticed him about to do it again, I opened my mouth, hoping that the tip would just slip right in but instead he grabbed my hair and tugged my head back.

“You really are acting like a dumb little whore tonight,” Nico said. “Where are you manners, huh?”

I whined, looking up at him, one of my hands braced against his thigh. “Please,” I said, my voice giving away how desperate I felt. “Please let me suck your cock. I need to feel it in my mouth.”

Nico humed, satisfied with my response. His hold on my hair eased up and he placed his hands against the back of my head. Not pushing me, just giving me the sensation of knowing he’s there.

As soon as he nods his head, I’m surging forward. My lips wrap around the tip, suckling on it and running my tongue over the slit to collect some of the precum that had started leaking. Nico groaned at the feeling, his hand pushing my head further, forcing me take him deeper into my mouth until the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat.

He held my head there for a moment and I gagged around his length, providing the additional sensation of my throat tightening which made him moan. His hand moved away and he let me start working at my own pace.

I started bobbing my head, trying to take him all the way every time my lips glided along his dick, hollowing my cheeks and running my tongue along the vein that was on the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, there we go.” Nico said with a groan. “My pretty little slut, sucking me off so well. You look so pretty with my cock down your throat, baby.”

Nico moved one of his hands to my neck and wrapped it around my throat just as I was moving down his shaft. He laughed, the sound mixed with a moan of pleasure, and it sounded beautiful. “I can feel my dick sliding down your throat,” he said, his hand staying where it was placed. “God, your mouth feels like heaven. Keep going, baby, I’m almost there.”

That made me speed up, bobbing my head faster and doubling my efforts to make him cum. Nico’s fingers gripped my hair and that was all the warning I got before he was twitching inside of my mouth and shooting his load down my throat.

I pulled off him with a pop, the taste of his cum salty against my tongue. Without as much as a second thought I swallowed everything inside of my mouth, sticking my tongue out proudly and looking up at Nico to show him.

He smiled down at me, his cheeks flushed and mouth open as he panted, trying to catch his breath. One of his hands came to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin. “Good girl, baby,” he said. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

Nico helped me up and pulled me into a messy, passionate kiss. He lifted me up into his arms, making me giggle and started making his way towards the bedroom. “Now, how about I give my good girl a little reward?”

[neoballsucker]

SAY MY NAME

Summary : complaining to your friend about working overtime for extra work with the office's crush

Pair : mingi x fem!reader

Genre : office AU , SMUT

Warnings : semi public sex , pet names (princess baby etc.) , unprotected sex , soft Dom!mingi , cum play , fingering , blowjob

words count : 1.3k

A/N : I'm still really bad at that I'm sorry 😭😭

Mingi was a really popular guy in your office

He was handsome respectful

He was the meaning of perfection

A Lot of girls had a crush on him you can't deny you didn't grow a little crush on him since you knew him he was attractive his deep voice made you melt everytime you hear it

You didn't know if he was single or taken it wasn't really your business a lot of women from the office tried flirting with him women older than him and younger than him it was embarrassing how he just refused to go out with them but can you blame them he was handsome and a gentleman man

“I really wanna ask him out but I don't really know how he rejects everyone” your friend sighs in disappointment

“Maybe it's because he has someone in his life?” You chunkles at your friend's disappointment

“It's okay babe he's not the only man out there you know that right” you try to comfort her patting on her back softly

“You're right but he's just…so handsome and cute, his girlfriend must me so lucky to have him”

“Yeah you're right he's handsome I agree but c'mon there are alot of men out there I'm sure they'll be better than him”

“Yeah it's okay whatever” she rolls her eyes

“Anyways wanna come to the club with me after work?”

You sigh deeply in disappointment “oh well… the manager told me I have to stay overtime because I still have some work to do”

“Oh damn that must be lame will you be alone or…?” She asks and pats your back softly

“I don't know probably…I hope so tho i don't want some nasty old men with me for overtime”

She chuckles at your comment “yeah I agree some of these old men are really lame I'd rather be alone too” you just nod and return your gaze to your computer

Time skips everybody left it was only you…that's what you thought until you heard footsteps you rolled your eyes thinking it was one of the old men until you heard his voice

“Hi umm is anyone there?” He said clearing his throat…it was mingi

“Oh yeah…hi mingi” you smiled and waved

“Oh hi y/n you also here for overtime?”

“Yeah unfortunately “ you sigh in disappointment and rolled your eyes

“Anyways work hard I believe in you” he winks and smiles softly

You didn't answer him you were just starting at him…maybe more than you should

He noticed it and chuckles “someone is in love I see” you shake your head “ahh no sorry I was just spacing out” you said and chuckled nervously “yeah I see it's okay you're to the first one to ‘space out’ talking to me” you roll your eyes “I can't blame them” you chuckles as you feel his body leaning closer “so do you think I'm handsome too?” You feel his body closer his voice getting deeper you swallow hard as you feel heat raise in your body pool was created in your underwear as you feel his lips on yours his lips were so soft and nice it tastes like strawberry it was sweet your eyes close slightly as you feel his hands on your waist as he pulls you closer to his tall figure you didn't want this moment to stop you felt him unbuttoning your shirt something in you told you to stop him but instead you helped him take off your shirt as your shirt was removed on the floor he cups one of your breasts as you moan into the kiss it felt like heaven it was good it felt unreal as you feel him take off your laced bra exposing your breasts you knew it was wrong doing it in a workplace he knew it was wrong doing it in a work place but who cares now?

He pulls out of the kiss going lower to the level of your breasts as you feel one of your nipples in his mouth and the other between his fingers squeezing it you press your lips together as trying to hold your loud moans until you couldn't anymore you started moaning as you feel his fingers massaging your entrance the pleasure was too much for you.

“Will you please be quiet for me princess?”

“Y-yes I ca-” you couldn't even continue the sentence until you felt his finger inside you your eyes roll back as his fingers stretch your hole you try to moan but it got stuck in your throat as you cries out and whine

“If you can't take one of my fingers probably how are you going to take my dick princess huh?” You hide your face in your hands embarrassed as your ears slightly turn red from the embarrassment

“I-i will handle your dick mingi” your voice is shakey your vision getting blurry as you feel yourself near climax

“C-can I cum…please” as you said that you feel your hole empty whining that you couldn't cum

“Do you wanna make a mess in the office princess?” you shake your head and just roll your eyes

“Use your words baby”

“No mingi I don't but like please.. please can you fuck me” you begged it was embarrassing when you think about it but he looked just too hot to resist

“Alright fine then…it will be a quick one though” you nodded with a cocky smile on your face as he pushes you on a chair unbuckling and discharging his pants while you take off your skirt

“Open wide for me princess and don't forget to say my name” he chuckles softly as he settles between your legs teasing your entrance with his tip

“No teasing mingi please” as you said that you felt his dick inside you

You bite your lower lips trying to hold the urge to moan

“A-ahh mingi oh please faster” your voice was shakey it came out more of a moan than a proper sentence you can feel the smirk on his face even if your eyes are closed

“Oh fuck you're so tight princess pussy only made for me don't you think so ?”

“Y-yes mingi yes”

“You look so pretty all fucked like that pussy so tight yet taking me so well”

“I'm about to cum please can I cum?”

“Of course princess what are you waiting for” as you heard his words you released it all your eyes rolls back your grip on his hair gets tight as you feel him pull out of you

“Get on your knees for me baby” his voice was low it makes what to do whatever he asks you whatever it was you get on your knees between his legs taking a deep breath as you feel the tip tapping on your mouth you open your mouth as he puts his dick in your mouth, you start bobbing your head up and down as you hear his moans and groans you feel his dick hitting the back of your throat as you try to not choke on it

He groans as he releases his seeds in your mouth some of it on the corner of your lips but you swallow whatever was in your mouth for now he wipes the cum off the corners of your lips

“Open for me princess” you open your mouth widely as he inserts his fingers as you wrap your lips around his fingers cleaning it off

“That's my girl” he smiles softly and kisses your lips and helps you stand grabbing your clothes and helps you get dressed as he gets himself dressed

“Alright now shall we go back to work?” He asks with a soft smile on his face

“Yeah I guess so” you smile weakly still feeling your sore throat but at least it was worth it wasn't it ?

[pfhwrittes]

hey p this is nobody you know but do you have thoughts about depot mouse seeing something they shouldn't have seen? 😇

hello friend! (who i definitely don't know, no siree) i waffled over this and my search results are now full of dubiously legal activities that i definitely haven't ever seen in practice, not even once mr/ms/mx GCHQ person checking online traffic. (i also got distracted by portakabin set ups, but that's a separate issue.) and then my brain spat this out for the tradieverse.

does it answer the prompt? eh, vaguely. but i hope you'll be pleased with it.

tags/tw: non-sexual semi-nudity, russian pet names (pchelka = little bee, myshka = mouse, milaya = darling/sweetie/dearest), light angst at the end, and a very brief mention of choking.

author's note: barely skimmed for typos and bad grammar as always and a patented (by @/391780) abrupt ending because i couldn't figure out how to end it and it was getting away from me.

at this point, you're certain nikolai thinks it's funny to have you running around after him. flitting from your office to the driver's "lounge" (another portakabin, this time outfitted with a row of lockers, a sagging sofa, a table and set of scattered chairs, and a small kitchenette area), you yank open the door and your waspish comments die on your tongue.

nikolai is leaning against the counter of the kitchenette. in his pants. in just his pants.

unbidden your eyes skate over his broad shoulders, down over a glimmering gold chain that is nestled in thick, dark hair that spreads wildly over his chest to a soft stomach, to land on the tightest pair of black briefs you've ever seen.

"hello, myshka." nik's voice snaps you out of your staring and you feel heat flooding your cheeks as you tear your gaze away from his... underwear to meet his amused brown eyes.

"i, um, i was looking for you." you absolutely do not let your eyes drop below his neck as nik redistributes his weight as he laughs.

"and now you have found me." nik grins, a flash of surprisingly white teeth considering the amount of black tea and cigarettes he imbibes.

"yes, i wanted to - sorry, but why exactly are you in your pants?" you blurt out.

nik shrugs his broad shoulders and you drag your gaze up to look just past his left ear where a damp lock of black hair curls lazily.

"my clothes are wet." he says simply, like that explains everything. it probably does, knowing the very little you do know about nik.

there's a beat of silence where nik continues to grin and you ignore the way your neck and face are blazing with heat.

"right." you clear your throat uncomfortably. "anyway, i need your receipts."

"it's no problem, i've already handed them to farah." nik waves your words off with a lazy flap of his hand.

"yes, it is a problem! you can't just hand your receipts off to the head of the company, nikolai!" you huff irritably and nikolai interrupts you with a loud boisterous laugh.

"ah, pchelka." he sighs fondly, "always so busy running around, you miss what's right in front of your nose."

that brings you up short and you scowl furiously at him. of course he would think that, all he has to worry about to getting from the depot to the job site and back again. he isn't having to chase wayward drivers around for scraps of paper, or answering the phone to a disgruntled jonathan price when he can't get hold of nikolai, or answering emails with the subject line "how much 4 hardcore??" that you hope to god have come from a bot and not some sad, lonely weirdo thinking that a haulage company offers pornography.

the grin on nik's face flickers slightly and you see his eyes are no longer amused, but soft, almost apologetic.

"sweetness, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to imply-"

"it's fine." you interrupt him, your tone has gone flat and professional despite the way frustration burns at your lungs, urging you to unload all of your irritation on the man. "i'll just go ask farah for the receipts."

nik takes a step towards you.

"milaya -"

"no, really nik." you turn away to push at the door, "thank you for your help as always." you shove open the door and stomp across the dirt to the office you share with farah, leaving nik behind you in his underpants.

(later in the afternoon, after you had emailed farah to send you copies of nikolai's receipts, you lean back in your chair and refuse to let your mind drift back to the glittering gold chain resting on nik's collarbone.

and if you do, it's only because you're thinking about wrapping it around your fist to strangle the insufferable man with it, honest. )

[softspeirs]

These Heartbeats Clear (1): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: Rosie/OC… literally couldn’t resist. I was torn between this OC and a Red Cross OC from the flak house, but I think I wanted someone who would see him during all the hard parts, not just for a week when he’s Suffering. Spoilers for eps 5 and 6 of MoTA. These Heartbeats Clear Masterlist

one - adjustment period.

Grace watches warily as the crew approaches on the jeep - she’s not sure what she expected… for them to be jubilant and laughing, looking refreshed and ready for action? Nervous, scared, resigned… some combination of the two?

Her eyes land on Rosie, as they’re prone to do. He seems calm. That’s not a surprise, but the glimpse of something — fear? hesitation? — in his eyes is.

Helen, standing on her left, shifts her weight, her posture the picture of worry and sadness.

“Try to pull yourself upright,” Grace says quietly.

"I'm trying--" Helen says, her voice dull. To her credit, she flashes a smile as the guys get closer, her frown softening.

"Ladies," Rosie says, fingers on the brim of his hat. "What's the welcome wagon for?"

"Coffee." Helen says, "Just brewed."

He smiles thankfully at her, but his eyes go back to Grace's. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Lieutenant Fleming--"

"Bearer of semi-bad news, I'm afraid." Grace says, ignoring the way her heart picks up a little at his half smile. She rushes to finish before she can see his face transform - he can't afford any more bad news. "Doc wants to see everyone, just a quick chat. After that there's food in the mess."

He nods. "What's one more doctor?" He mutters. She suspects she wasn't supposed to hear that. Then, louder, "You heard her, gents. Doctor's orders."

They grumble a little, but head into the infirmary behind Grace and Helen, taking a cup of coffee each as they go. Helen follows behind, empty tray tucked under her arm. She looks back at Grace, but Rosie is lingering behind, twisting the brim of his cap in his hands, and Grace can't bring herself to leave him out here alone.

She waves Helen on, telling her she'll catch up in a minute.

“Captain?”

He starts, like he forgot she was there. He also looks like he’s forgotten about his promotion. And that’s the thing with flying — a promotion isn’t always wanted. Deserved, certainly. But it often comes at the expense of other pilots, and it’s always a tough pill to swallow. “How’s it been? How’s— everyone?” He asks her. His face is so earnest. It makes her throat tight.

“As well as we can be, Captain. Most of the replacements are here.” She hesitates before continuing. She’s been here right along, with the Red Cross girls and the doctor and the other nurses. But just because she’s been here as long as everyone else doesn’t mean she understands what the flight crews have gone through. “How was your week off?”

“Too long.” He says, no hesitation. His smile is small, wry, a barely-there upturn of his lips. “I wanted to get back.”

“And you’re alright?” The question comes out almost without her permission. They don’t even know each other that well - she’s patched up a few of his scrapes and bruises and they’ve made idle conversation as he checked on some of his crew that ended up in the infirmary, but this is bordering on too casual.

But she’d argued with him, the day before he went on leave. She’d been too casual then, too, and so had he, both of them lost in the emotions of the Munster mission.

It feels a little awkward now, but she does her best to press on.

She can’t help but worry about him. She admires him, at the heart of it. The way he kept his men together through it all, the way he always has a kind word and a joke for anyone who needs it.

She just hopes he’d say so if he’s the one who needs it, this time.

“I’m as good as I can be, Lieutenant.” He replies.

“Grace.” She reminds him softly. “It’s— you don’t have to call me Lieutenant.”

“Grace, then.” He echos. “I’m okay. Have to be. For them.”

“I hope—“ she pauses, looking down at her shoes. “Forgive me sir, but I hope you know that we’re all here for you. What you went through—“

“I know.” He interrupts her, not unkindly. “You think we haven’t seen the way you’ve been there for us? Even when you thought we didn’t notice?” He shakes his head. “You write our letters when our hands shake, and get us extra blankets, and tell us it’s going to be okay when it’s—“ He stops himself, shaking his head.

When his eyes meet hers, they’re so soft she can barely stand it. This is dangerous, what this conversation is turning into, but she’s also relieved to hear that what she’s been doing besides being a nurse and keeping them alive has made a difference.

“I appreciate it more than I can put into words, Grace.” His voice is rough.

There’s a long moment of prolonged eye contact. Her senses are screaming, danger, danger! But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t look away.

“You just keep yourself and those boys alive, Captain.” She says, her voice thick. “For the rest of us.”

He salutes, a jaunty thing that lightens the mood. “Yes ma’am.”

She laughs, and he grins at her in response. “Go on, you have to meet with the Doctor too. Just standard procedure.”

He hums. “Heard a lot of that the last week.” He takes a few steps away and then stops, “Grace?” His face is suddenly boyish, shy. “You’d better call me Rosie. Or at least by my first name.”

It feels right — she’s given up calling anyone else by their rank anymore. They’ve been through too much for that. The new guys will be an adjustment - she’s not sure she can manage getting attached to any of them. Because it’s inevitable, what happens after.

But the line has already been crossed with this man, looking at her in the fading sunlight.

“You got it, Rosie.”

His answering smile stays with her until the next day, long after the roar of B-17s fades into the distance.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

I think one of the reasons that kaladin can deal with actively killing as a soldier but not with accidentally (passively) letting someone die as a surgeon is the sense of failure (plus of course the obvious protection aspect and the whole me-vs-them mentality he only really starts to question when Shin joins bridge four, and he starts interacting fairly regularly with a light-eyes he can genuinely respect). dalinar himself said that he "love(s) taking responsibility for things", which is especially clear in the way he still can't quite blame amaram for tien's demise (because he feels like this is his failure, too).

like we can see in the first book that the deaths of the people he swore to protect weigh on him not only because of the dying people per se, but also (and I would argue: especially) because of his FAILURE to keep them alive. he always makes this connection to himself, thinks of their demise in relation to HIS own person and HIS role and HIS failure (cue the whole "stormfather cursed me specifically" thing). like, besides tien and the bridgemen (who we know because they are active current characters), can we truly say much of anything about the people he failed to protect in the past? the only thing we really know is how HE feels about it and how it messed HIM up. but the people themselves??

kaladin just has insane main character syndrome, and everything happening to him (first dark-eyed to have the rank of a light-eyed, one of the only surgebinders, guy able to survive multiple fights with actual shardbearers, etc etc) do the opposite of helping him dissuade the notion. I feel like I lost the plot of my own post. Kal is honorable and a good guy and everything but he is also pretty self-centered? which I actually find really cool because many times people who do objectively good actions are still kind of demonized if they don't do it for the "right" reasons (aka purely 1000% selflessness), but Kal explicitly starts helping the bridgemen not because he actually cares about them but because he needs a reason to not commit suicide. and when he loses bridgemen (especially in the beginning where he barely knows them) he always immediately thinks back to the other people he FAILED to save. he isn't devastated because that person in particular died, he is upset because he is very bad at dealing with his own failures and also terrified that the wretch will use this to lure him back onto the ledge. i mean, he loathes failure so much he was resigned to never see his parents again (who he clearly loves a lot and who he knows would welcome him back with open arms; it's his own shame that he can't confront)

he helps people primarily to try to make up for the failures of the past, an attempt to dissuade the guilt and shame eating him alive 24/7 (which of course never works because guilt is a very unreasonable emotion and as long as he doesn't change his mindset and confronts his own beliefs about himself and the world it will never go away.)

"do the fire sprin create the flames or are they attracted by them?" of course syl was compelled to follow kaladin around. dude keeps actively (even if semi-unconsciously) putting himself into the same role and situation over and over again in the hopes that if he can only succeed one time it will somehow redeem him for his past failures. literally every single thing Kal does and thinks and believes is rooted in the fact that he blames himself for tien's demise. he needs to somehow redeem himself in order to be able to live with himself but at the same time he can never be redeemed because letting tien die is an unforgivable crime and yet he needs to make it up somehow because the wretch is always in the back of his mind and he's actually terrified of it but he is equally scared of actually somehow managing to get over this sense of guilt and failure because wouldn't forgiving himself mean he thinks tien is less important than his own stupid (and, in his mind, deserved) feelings?

that guy is so not over his brother's death it actually isn't funny anymore 💀 please get that dude some fucking therapy 😭😭

[admiringtheskies]

okay, so The Hyperfixation Is Hyperfixating, clearly, and honestly im just gonna continue going with it bc THEM— *screams* ANYWAYS @frownyalfred uhhhhhh hope you enjoy this as well! without further ado, another idea inspired by the incomparable ✨borderline✨ that just would NOT leave me alone until i got it all down into actual real words:

at some point further in the timeline of borderline'verse, when they've finally got the whole situation mostly under control, the batfam (whenever they accompany bruce, or multiple kids go together by themselves so they're in batclan mode, to do jl/other crossover shit) sort of ends up just doing the whole Bat-Danger-Aura thing, like, Constantly; somewhat unintentionally, but also with not much effort really made to rein it in, bc they do think the reactions are hilarious lol. and like, the thing is, they were ALREADY doing it pre-bond, pretty much right from whenever dick, jason, or both made their first appearance w bruce outside of gotham and first established the existence of mini-bats for the outside world — i mean, that sense of leashed power, as well as the eerie synchronicity and ability to communicate in the tiniest of gestures, was really just a natural consequence of the crime-fighting codependency and the training bruce put them through, originally. (as you may be able to tell, i have an Extremely Normal Amount of Feelings about the concept of cryptid batfam <3). but WITH the bond?? i mean, the kids are all connected to each other, yes, but their primary connections are all to BRUCE, and once they've had time to adjust, and set + actually semi-consistently enforce some basic boundaries, they absolutely take pride in using that to it's fullest advantage (that they're capable of while not intentionally compromising anybody's autonomy, anyways).

and like… OP's already touched on this in earlier chapters briefly a few times, but i NEED a thorough exploration of the idea of bruce seeing this change in them, seeing them subconsciously incorporate even just these little subtle mannerisms, and feeling so fucking guilty about it and spiraling bc he's terrified that all of his self-destructive qualities [that he's painfully aware of in himself] will transfer over to the children, who somehow never seem to realize that how proud and grateful they make him when they demonstrate their DIFFERENCES from him in those regards. and he's just so scared that he'll somehow ruin the few parts of them he thinks he's miraculously managed to avoid 'tainting' with his mentorship/fatherhood until now… …and meanwhile the kids are about to start crying because dad no what the fuck,,, but also facepalming a little bit bc jesus CHRIST, B, did you never even stop to consider the fact that you're just… really fuckin smart and skilled and know how to do a frankly ungodly amount of Cool Shit that we all share an interest in, and we were excited to have the chance to copy more of that shit too?! just, even beyond the great mental image of the Danger Walk, what really got me about that scene was just... his two oldest boys, who are already so much like him, not hesitating for a SECOND to gleefully take the chance to match his behavior even MORE perfectly, and wanting to know where he learned something as (relatively, by their standards) simple as the Serious Business Walk, and wanting to share that memory because it's just fuckin cool, y'all! like, to be clear, i absolutely respect the fact that, at least by the time that they're entering adulthood/in the prime of their mental and physical youth, any of the batkids are pretty much on, or definitely rapidly approaching, the same level as bruce in general badassery — and they probably each have 1 or 2 specific skillsets in which they can and do surpass him. but at the same time, you CANNOT convince me that, at any given point in the established DC timeline, there exists a non-bruce batfam character who can really look at bruce (like his personality, his aforementioned ridiculous skillset, i mean everything about him) and not see at least ONE quality in him that they aspire to. maybe it's something they already have and just can't see in themselves, maybe it's more a projection of something one of their other siblings has and shares with bruce, maybe it's just some skill, some random combat move, that he doesn't need very often, and so when he does use it, it briefly reminds them that "holy shit, he's The Fucking Batman" — but there's always SOMETHING there, some reason that even when they're having trouble communicating or arguing or emotions are running high, they'll never truly lose that respect for him that compels these ridiculously independent, self-sufficient people to willingly follow him: to listen to him, to trust him, and to keep themselves ready to unite under his lead. because nobody can argue that they are a clan, whose purpose comes from being first united under the guidance and protection and love of the bat.

[astrahannah]

On Saturday, I've seen the second Venom movie. I'm so confused about Symbrock canonicity. shipping wiki says they're canon in the movies, but that feels ambiguous to me, semi-canon at most. One of the mods there even told me a while back strong implication isn't enough to declare a ship canon, so... IDK. I've seen other sources say they're only canon in some comics.

I mean, the Czech translation de-gayed it even more - "I love you" turns to "Mám tě rád" which is more of an "I like you", commonly used platonically, I don't remember Dan saying they need couples' counseling...

On that note, as the youths would say "If you don't like Dan, you're an opp"

There's enough guys out there who leave their wives over inconveniences. Then there's Dan, whose fianceé's ex keeps on crashing into their life, he has an alien symbiote in him, and Dan isn't afraid his fianceé will leave him, he's genuinely worried about the ex and treats him nothing but kindly, and when later, his fianceé is kidnapped by another, evil alien, he still doesn't dip. He goes to where they took her, and LIGHTS THE ALIEN ON FIRE.

He might've not been able to free Venom from the rubble, but I don't recall him being a burden in any way, like Venom later called him. He always got out of way on his own in the fight.

And I'm glad Anne stayed with him. I'm the sort of girl who is always pissed on the behalf of the Hallmark-esque movie boyfriend/fiance of the female lead, who is a completely fine man and never did anything wrong, but he's just not as exciting and spontanous as the male lead and ends up getting cheated on, so me cheering on Dan isn't a surprise, but even my brother, who doesn't really care about this thing said he hopes Eddie and Anne don't end up together, because Dan is a cool guy and Anne shouldn't leave him just because the main guy also wants her.

Note - I sometimes say ships that have many fics about them but very few with "OTP: true" filter on have "chronic side ship syndrome". And dude, I haven't seen true chronic side ship syndrome until Anne/Dan. I've seen 63 fics turn to eight, that's nothing. Over THREE HUNDRED fics turn to TEN, if you apply OTP: true to the Anne Weying/Dan Lewis tag. And several of the fics there aren't even about them! The fate of being a cute canonical side ship, I guess.

Anyways, I'll probably go to see the third movie. I'm sad we most likely won't get clear, not just implied, canon Symbrock in it, because we have to market in like, Russia and China, am I right, but what we have is enough for me to feel justified in calling them a couple, even if it's not spoken aloud.