#i'm just figuring out where i want to start now-

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[avalon-of-babylon]

Okay yeah it's like 90% the All Star we know and meme but it doesn't flow as well which I argue is a big part of what makes the song work.

In this essay I will once again be over annalize the lyrics of All Star by Smash Mouth instead of getting out of bed

Let's literally start at the beginning:

The draft version looks like it would have been the singer saying "I was a dumbass but you know over the years I came to realize fuck what others think there's nothing wrong with being yourself"

The version we got however is a perfect opening to a song which is ultimately about self-actualization and genuine self-expression. "She said I was dumb and up shit creek without a paddle but from where I'm standing she's the dumb one" which when paired with:

Creates not only good momentum but a sense of action. It's literally saying "Life doesn't stop and let you figure it out so why not live your life on your terms and just be yourself. You'll never know unless you try, and you'll never be amazing unless you be yourself"

My mama said to me "Son" she said to me

But the inclusion of this disrupts that momentum by rhyming "me" with "me" and turning the focus the song just turn towards you back on themselves making the next part into a personal story which not only doesn't add to the overall theme but has the calls to action come before the affirmations.

Hey now, you're an all star Get your game on, go play Hey now, you're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shooting stars break the mold

What we got however works better because it's telling the listener "you're already amazing, you just need to let yourself shine, you dont need to be like other people" instead of "my mom told me to let myself shine, I'm already amazing, I don't need to be like other people" it creates a sense of unity, one where we are all better for being ourselves and not a weird dude implying we should be like him.

It's a cold place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now, wait 'til you get older

Back to the flow problem again by having cold instead of cool it creates this odd momentary imbalance in the rhyming by having 3 words rhymed togetherin 2 lines (cold, colder, older) instead of 2 in 2 or 4 in 2 like we see throughout the finished version by just rhyming "colder" and "older"

The ice we skate is getting pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire, how about yours? That's the way I like it and I never get bored

Unless the line we see is adding the second half of this verse, then the draft is worse for not having it.

Not only is including the dichotomy of hot and cold good for a song with All Star's themes, but much like an onion, it has layers (obligatory Shrek reference). Without the first two lines, the verse is only reinforcing that their way of living is more exciting. However there's a number of ways to interpret the two added lines including "the veneer of normalcy is wearing away; other people are being themselves why not join" or if you want more literal "things are going to hell; why not enjoy the ride". Either way, when paired with the second half, hot and cold take on new meanings; passion and dispersion, individually and conformity, change and stagnation, reality and fantasy, autonomy and heteronomy.

I don't know why I wrote all this, I don't even like the song that much. Maybe I got possessed by the spirit of still living high school English teacher Mrs. Pack. She would do something like spend an entire class period discussing the themes of All Star.

[deansbeer]

★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.

synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.

warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.

kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33

it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.

still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.

"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."

you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."

it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.

he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."

you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.

when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.

you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.

"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"

you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"

he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."

"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.

half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.

"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"

you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.

then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.

your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.

he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."

his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.

"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."

and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."

you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."

"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."

you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"

"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."

you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."

"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"

you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.

"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."

"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."

he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"

"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."

"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"

you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.

"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.

"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"

"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.

you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.

and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.

⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧

[igotanidea]

The talk : Dick Grayson X reader ( with Bruce Wayne)

A/n : it's a snippet, I might consider writing it fully

Warning: suggestive but not explicit

Summary: it's time for the bees and bird talk with Dick

***

Bruce walking in on a young adult! Dick and his girlfriend y/n getting cosy between the sheets.

Obviously, as a normally functioning adult and a father, even if just a foster one, the batman takes it upon himself to have a talk about bees and birds with his favourite son.

He got it all planned out, schemed, thought out to avoid surprises and misunderstandings.

He actually had the contingency plans from A to Z drafted for a while, only hoping that those would never come to use.

Unfortunately, seeing y/n, with her blouse undone, hair a mess and Dick's hands (and apparently more) on her, forces Bruce to retreat to hide the blush creeping on. The last piece of his dignity is gone and he is pretty sure there's no good way to recover from such a failure.

He had reached the ultimate botttom.

"Hey B, you good?" Hours later Dick found him in the batcave, engrossed in some feigned, quickly fixed work. It was too easy to figure he would hide there to avoid seeing or - god forbid - hear anything.

"Hm."

"You wanted to talk to me about something, didn't you?" He grinned, delighting in a way Bruce seemed to develop an eye twich.

"Hm".

"Great. I got some time before I get back to y/n, so?"

"Get back?" Bruce turned to face his son and immediately regretted it. He seriously wished to erase the sight of lipstick and love bites on his neck.

"Something wrong?" Once more dick flashed a smile, trying to force a reaction out of Bruce.

"hm."

"we're being safe"

"Amazing"

"and she's okay with it"

"Great"

"And I've studied female anatomy so I know a thing or two about --"

Oh dear lord...

"Dick." Bruce was an inch from having a spasm. How ironic it would turn out to be if gotham lost its protector because of certain golden boy growing up.

"hey did you know that --"

"Get out, Dick."

"But I thought you wanted to--"

"I said get out"

"-talk?"

"I believe you got it all wrong. It was Alfred. Yes. Alfred wanted to talk to you. Not me."

"You sure about it B? You want me to talk to Alfred about -"

"yes. Absolutely. Now go. I'm sure time is of essence"

"it is. Though Alfred took some time off, thanks to your generosity, Bruce. So I'll go, sure, but I've already got so many questions that I don't want to search online and--"

"Dick?" Y/n voice sounded dangerously close to the batcave entrance "Where are you? I'm gonna have to go soon and I need a proper goodbye --"

"coming!!!" Dick yelled rushing off the room " great talk, Bruce. We'll continue it later."

Dick left and Bruce was finally able to let out a groan. The masterplanner forgot to acknowledge the fact that sweet kids tend to turn into feral, hormonal young adults and require actual upbringing.

***

"you're so mean to him, you know that?" Y/m muttered, once again with his lips on hers

"mean? Who, me? Ouch! You're hurting my heart here princess."

"you are. He could easily be a DILF, yet is alone and you're tormenting him."

"but if you saw the look on his face --"

"you're only proving my point of you being mean".

"I'm sure he'll get some, some day--"

"but still- mmm!"

"I remind you that you enabled the plan baby.... Played quite an important part in it." Dick started kissing her a little harder, not even trying to hide where he was heading. "Wonder why that is..."

"cause you're also a -- ohh!"

"you were saying?" He smirked, looking up at her.

"-prick"

"Am I?" His hands moved where she liked it "what else?"

"liar..." She gasped. While it was true he didn't tell her why he invited her over and that his father was in, his movements were serving as a pretty good apology.

Even if knowing Dick it was obviously also a way to boost his ego and prove his point and complete his twisted and deranged plan.

"you know what, I've already had one talk, I don't really need another.... Rather keep my lips occupied with something else --"

***

Bruce came out of the batcave only after making sure it was safe.

Mentally cursing himself for having not one, but four boys under his care.

Which meant that this - whatever it was-- was about to happen again.

[mj0702]

New Year🔞🔞

There is smut content in there so... MINORS NO NO!!!

What a Party it had been. Patri really went all out for this new year party she hosted. Jenni wore a simple black piece hugging her figure just perfectly her eyes in a – what you called vintage – smoky eyes in silver and black makeup her lips painted in a dark red nearly brown-ish. Alexia the complete contrast as usual wore cream light but elegant pants, a – also vintage – crop top (you'd never dare to call your girlfriends old into their faces so you always settle for “vintage” instead) and simple makeup. You – the most simple out of the three of you – wore simply Jeans (you wanted to go in sweaters but both Alexia and Jenni threatened to tie you to a lamp post and just leave you there if you would dare to leave the house in sweat pants) and a Ralph Laurent Polo. Surprise you weren't the only one. You found yourself in a corner with Caro, Ewa, Laura (Keiras girlfriend) and Esmee all sporting the Jeans 'n Polo look standing there awkwardly all of you a cup of something in your hand. It was like a scene from a bad High school movie where all the nerds standing in a corner watching the popular girls while all your girlfriends (minus Ewa who still longed after that girl in her old Club and Esmee who had a dating ban by your girlfriend – the Barcelona one not the Mexican one – after the drama caused with Esmees ex-boyfriend) had the best time on the makeshift dancefloor

“So... how was your Christmas?” Caro asked after 15 minutes of heavy silence

“Oh... yeah... good” Ewa shrugged her shoulders “... spend it with my family in Poland”

“Careful there Pajor...” you smirked nodding at Laura “... not that you get invaded... again”

“hey.... that was ONE time...” Laura rolled her eyes playfully

“Wait what??” Esmee looked confused “Laura invaded Ewa? Uh oh.. Keira won't like that”

“Yeah no...” you snorted “... Lauras grands invaded Poland... and the Netherlands”

“Oooooh....” the young player looked curious “.... why?”

“Hun... I know you're young...” Laura started patting Esmees head “... but even you should've heard of World War II … Jexias plaything over here just loves to milk them Austrian jokes”

“Ooooooh... yeah I heard of that...” Esmee nodded while Caro snorted into her drink

“England was invaded too...” the norwegian pointed out making Laura groan

“Not really no...” you pursed your lips “... our leadership knew what they were doing”

“Can we please stop making bad 1930s jokes?” the Austrian huffed but the little twinkle in her eyes showed that she wasn't mad

“Because you'd lose again?” Esmee asked innocently

“Careful there kid...” Laura pointed her finger at the youngster “... or you and I will have a little face off tomorrow”

“I still have tomorrow off...” the young dutch exclaimed

“You won't if you keep choosing the wrong side” the Austrian raised her eyebrow

“Come to the dark side...” Ewa threw her arm around Esmees shoulders “... we have cookies”

“And alcohol” you pointed out lifting your cup

“And alcohol” the polish player confirmed

“Alexia said I'm not allowed to have alcohol during the season” Esmee hung her head

“First.. she's not looking...” you quickly glanced at your girlfriend who was dancing with Jenni before you pushed you cup into the young players hands “... secondly... drink that”

“Bad influence... all of you” Caro shook her head smiling

“Are you going to report us all to Marta?” you challenged her an eyebrow raised while you “helped” Esmee drowning your drink – you simply held the cup so the young one couldn't do anything else than drink

“And get in trouble because I didn't stop you?” the norwegian snorted “Hell Naah”

“Jesus... that's strong...” Esmee now coughed a little bit after she emptied your cup “... what is that”

“It should've been a Mojito....” you shrugged your shoulders “... I might went a little hard on the Rum...”

“It tasted like... pure Rum” the young player pulled a face

“Because it was...” you said unphased “... I forgot what else belongs into a Mojito so I went for the ingredients I knew... Rum”

“Isn't there sugar in it?” Ewa wondered out loud

“Yeah... but try to find sugar in a pro athletes household...” you waved your hand around Patris home

“Huh... true” Ewa nodded while Laura and Caro started laughing

“I think our Cari is enjoying herself” Jenni husked against Alexias ear her hands on the blondes hips while Alexias back is pressed into the older ones front the Catalans arms hanging loosely around her girlfriends neck

“Mhm...” Alexia hummed after she quickly glanced over to you “... and with Caro and Laura there we don't need to worry that her, Esmee and Ewa get into trouble”

“I wouldn't go that far” the dark haired one chuckled “... she can be quite the brat if she wants to”

“You love it if we act a little out of line” the blonde smirked turning in her girlfriends arms so she can look at Jenni

“I love it even more when I get you both back into line” Jenni smirked bending down kissing Alexia softly

“Get a room” Pina hollered from the other side of the room which caused Jenni to deepen the kiss lifting her left arm and showing Pina the middle finger

“NOT my room!!! NOT any room in my house!!” Patri panicky interrupted when she saw that Pina was about to contra Jenni once more

“You just have to turn the music up Pats...” the dark haired one smirked after she ended the kiss “... both of them can get quite loud”

“Oh god” Jenni and Alexia heard your faint groan bursting out laughing

“Why would you yell at each other in a room?” Esmee asked with the innocents of a child after your groan of embarrassment making Ewa, Caro and Laura burst out laughing

“Jenni and Alexia are both....” you tried to do damage control “... intense people”

“Intense... yeah...” Caro chuckled wiping away a tear “... call it intense”

“I mean I never played with Jenni...” the young player pondered

“Y/n does that quite frequently...” Laura laughed at your misery

“Really?? When?? You play here...” dear god that girl was naïve “... and she plays in Mexico”

“Whenever she's here... ain't that right Tygrysku??” Ewa pressed out before she broke down laughing again

“Can I come and play with Jenni too?” Esmee looked at you pleadingly

“NO” you exclaimed sending the people around you into a new fit of laughter

“Gosh...” the young player rolled her eyes “... you really are egoistic... playing with the best players in the world and not even willing to share”

“Oh she's sharing alright” Caro heaved out trying to get some air into her lungs

“Can you please stop” you pleaded

“Defiantly not...” Ewa pressed out holding onto Lauras shoulder so she wouldn't fall over from laughing

“Sweetie...” Laura started in an overly motherly voice “... Y/n isn't playing football with them....”

“Well... what else would she play with them?” Esmee looked confused

“They're...” Caro started before she had to think for a second “... shaking sheets”

“That makes no sense” Esmee rolled her eyes “... I know for a fact Y/n has a woman coming in once a week cleaning her flat because she's too lazy... I bet she's shaking the sheets too”

“No she's not” Ewa snorted “... not in that way”

“I want to die...” you groaned in agony “... can't the floor open up and swallow me whole?”

“They're playing... bedroom rodeo” the norwegian now clarified waiting for Esmee to catch on – and oh you could see the moment she did

“EW....” the young player exclaimed disgusted looking wide eyed at you “YUCK!!! That's basically mi Mamí you're talking about”

“DON'T call her that” you groaned your head in your hands trying to hide your beet red face

“Even the fans say she's basically my football Mamí” Esmee looked outraged at you

“Please... for the love of god... I pay you whatever you want... just...” you looked desperate which didn't go unnoticed by your girlfriends “... stop calling her Mamí”

“WHY???” the young one exclaimed and again the three players around you exploded laughing

“I think I'm gonna pee myself” Ewa was laughing so hard she hardly got any air into her lungs “... this is gold”

“Just...” you took a deep breath “... stop”

“Everything alright here?” you know heard the voice of Alexia right behind you and at the tone you heard that she expected an answer – most likely from you

“Everything alright” you turned around putting up your best (very pained) smile

“Then why are you looking like you just want to drop dead?” your girlfriend raised an eyebrow

“Esmee and I just.... settled some...” you started before Ewa interrupted you

“Misunderstandings” the polish player snorted trying to hold her laughter in

“I didn't ask you...” Alexia fixed her player with a glare “... Cari?”

“Y/n said I'm not allowed to call you Mamí..” Esmee exclaimed “.. but even fans say you're my football mom”

“Hmm...” the catalan hummed her eyes not leaving yours making you squirmy

“Come here...” Alexia said low but not low enough but you stayed rooted in your place not wanting to give the group around you even more material to make fun of you

“Really?” the blonde just raised her eyebrow giving you a last chance and you knew it “I advice you to think hard about it...”

“Can we please not here...” you said your voice quite sharp – sharper than you intended

“Watch your tone” Alexia was instantly in your personal space towering over you not even leaving you time to react “... now be good and come here”

“You're right in front of me” you snapped “... where should I go then?”

You should've known that it was a bad idea to challenge Alexia Putellas. With her being nearly 15cm higher than you, pure muscle AND spanish-hot-blooded you knew there was no way you would win fighting against her. So the second the words left your mouth you looked up in horror right in time to see Alexias face switch from surprised to disbelieve. A second later her big hand made its way to the back of your neck locking in place pushing you past her and through the whole room. To your relief no one except the small group who were the start of all evil noticed what was happening. Well... no one except Jenni of course who always had an eye whenever Alexia and you interact knowing that sometimes both of you were to stubborn to listen to each other. So the second she saw Alexias hand dart around your neck she was already on her way to interfere whatever argument you two were “settling”

“I don't know what was in that cup you had in your hand before” Alexia sneered the second the front door fell shut behind you two “... but you better pray it gave you enough courage to tell me what THAT was in there”

“You were right in front of me...” you grumbled back wincing a little bit when the blondes hand squeezed a little tighter

“Wrong answer...” the catalan sneered “... think again and think HARD what comes out of that bratty mouth of yours next”

“Well hello...” you heard Jennis surprised voice behind you

“You keep yourself out of it Jennifer” Alexia snapped shortly glancing at your girlfriend

“Ay... I did nothing...” Jenni lifted her hands in surrender “... I'm just here to make sure you don't kill her and end up in prison.. your ass is too pretty for prison”

“Oh you find that funny sí?” Alexia snapped at you shaking you a little bit by the neck as you snorted at Jennis comment

“You do have a nice ass...” you admitted the alcohol in your system not letting you grab the situation “... I must know... I stare at it often enough”

“Are you...” the blonde got thrown off track by your behaviour “... drunk?”

“Teeny tiny little itsy Bitsy bit” you giggled the alcohol kicking in full force now that you were outside breathing fresh air

“Mierda..” Jenni chuckled under her breath “... it took her all of 30 minutes”

“I can't even punish her for being bratty” Alexia looked outraged at Jenni like the older one stole her ice cream

“Amor....” the dark haired one chuckled “... either you sober her up or you wait until tomorrow and then punish her”

“How should I sober her up right now right here?” the catalan asked Jenni bewildered

“Ice water? Coffee??” Jenni offered knowing Alexia wouldn't have the heart to dunk you in ice water

“Uh” the blonde groaned while you looked intensely at Patris butterfly figure next to the door “... she'll cost me my last nerve”

“The joys of love” the older one snorted “... let her be for tonight Amor... I'll let you do whatever you want to her tomorrow...”

“It's not like I have a choice...” Alexia grumbled “... she wouldn't remember anyway”

“Let's get her some water... and some Ibuprofen” Jenni smiled as you tried to poke the butterfly wondering why it wouldn't fly away

It's not like you planned on getting drunk. But being a pro athlete that only has a drink now and then or at some celebration at the end of the season – that Mojito really brought you down. You didn't remember Jenni and Alexia getting you to drink glass after glass of water with you getting distracted every five seconds to the point were the blonde considered just hitting you over the head with a bottle so you would sleep it off. Jenni had a field day watching the two of you bickering the whole evening only stepping in when she noticed Alexia was near losing it. You didn't remembered that you saw them two kiss at midnight sending you into a frenzy where you actively ran away from them out of the house tears clouding your vision so that you fell over Patris porch railing straight into a bush of dark red roses. When Jenni and Alexia who were hot on your heels found you crying in them roses both of them really had to hold in their laughter. What they didn't expect was that you didn't wanted to be touched by either of them – it took a drunk off her ass Ewa Pajor to pull you out of the rose bush (with Patri yelling in agony about her damn roses) and an Ingrid Engen to calm you down so at least Jenni was allowed to sit next to you. When she asked what was going on with you knowing fully well that drunk you was a very emotional you you started crying again how your girlfriend Alexia kissed your other girlfriend Jenni and they both cheated on you with each other. Drunk you also didn't do common sense. Not realizing that your girlfriends were right in front of you. Alexia let out a string of spanish curse words how one could be so stupid making you cry even harder. Jenni got you to calm down by telling you she will have words with Alexia and Jenni that under no circumstances is it okay to forget about you but only if you'd agree to go home with her. You agreed under the deal of her sleeping on the couch – you were a lot but no cheater. The oldest one chuckled and agreed. By the time you three were home you were fast asleep against Alexias chest drooling on her crop top.

“I can't believe that happened tonight” the blonde rolled her eyes as she carefully slipped out from under you

“I can't believe I have to have words with myself” Jenni snorted reaching over you to unbuckle your seatbelt

“How did she get so drunk so quickly?” Alexia shook her head at your black out state

“She never could hold her alcohol” the dark haired snorted while she pulled you out of the car “... just... let's get her to bed”

Jenni should learn pretty quickly that this task alone was a whole other fight. You woke up the moment the dark haired one sat you down on the bed starting to open your Jeans. Alexia went into the Bathroom to get something to clean you up and to change you into (it's either one of hers or Jennis t-shirts) when she heard you panic screeching from the bedroom

“What's going on??” the catalan rushed back into the bedroom to find Jenni standing at the foot of the bed while you were pressed against the headboard a pillow pressed to your middle

“Ale...” you cried out

“Sí Cari?” the blonde features soften a little bit as you shuffled over to the edge of the bed, getting stuck in the blankets falling face first out of said bed to then quickly jump up wobbling behind Alexia for cover

“This woman wanted to.... you know” you whisper yelled behind Alexia with absolute urgency

“This woman???” Jenni exclaimed making you shriek ducking further behind your blonde girlfriend

“Bebé...” Alexia said softly “... it's okay...”

“No it's not!!” you huffed “.... she wanted to get into my pants!!”

“She's drunk... she's drunk... she's drunk....” the dark haired spaniard mumbled to herself so she wouldn't lose it while Alexia tried to not burst out laughing

“Normally you like it when Jenni gets into your pants” the blonde snorted “... come Cari.... let's get your drunk ass into bed”

“But....” you pouted “.... there's a stranger in our bedroom”

“Stranger?” Jenni looked at you with wide eyes while Alexia bursted out laughing

“It's okay Cari....” the catalan laughed “... she's a good friend... she just needs a couch to sleep on”

“Are you really kicking me out of OUR bedroom because of drunky there??” the older woman looked at Alexia outraged

“Just wait until she's asleep and come to bed” the blonde rolled her eyes manoeuvring you back onto the bed

“Since when am I the bad one?” Jenni mumbled as she left the bedroom

“You can come back” Alexia called out just as her girlfriend left the room

“I can't believe she declared me as a stranger who tried to rape her” the older one grumbled

“You know that she's not thinking straight when she's drunk” the blonde said as she pulled your pants off your legs

“But still... I'm her girlfriend!” Jenni huffed as she started to undress herself

“Yes you are” Alexia said carefully

“But?” the dark haired one asked an eyebrow raised

“You aren't around as much as I am...” the catalan pointed out “... we live together... and I KNOW you do everything possible to be here as much as possible... but...”

“It's not enough” Jenni sighed as she got into bed next to you

“It is Jenni... she's not thinking straight...” Alexia said softly getting in on your other side

“Apparently it isn't” the dark haired one huffed

“Don't get hung up on that....” the blonde rolled her eyes “... we'll find a solution one day”

“You both can move to Mexico...” Jenni kept her voice light even tho Alexia heard how much it hurt her girlfriend

“Not in a million years” Alexia played into it “... you know what they say... Barca is Alexia... Alexia is Barca”

“They can have a human sized cardboard cut out from you... can tape it to the side of Nuo” the older one chuckled tiredly

“You're an ass” the blonde chuckled kicking her girlfriend lightly under the blanket

You woke up because you felt so warm. Your head felt heavy and you needed a second to realize where you were and why you felt so hot. You turned your head to find Jenni spooning you from behind her arm loosely around your midsection while Alexia laid in front of you – more half under you. Of course you fell asleep in between the two space heaters you called your girlfriends. These two women had a body temperature from around 200 degrees and always complain how cold it was hence the extra blankets. You on the other hand were english – you literally melted every time you shared a bed with Jenni AND Alexia. One of them was bad enough but both of them... sudden death for you. But there was something else that made you feel hot. Alexias leg was slotted in between yours and her thigh pressed right into a very delicate area. If you were really quiet and REALLY carefully you probably could get away with getting yourself off on the Catalans thigh. You knew both of your girlfriends were normally dead to the world sleepers – even more when they have time off. So you really carefully started to move your hips a little to test the waters a little bit so even IF one of them woke up you could still play it off as getting uncomfortable and just needed to move a little. After your initial try you waited a few seconds to see if one (or in the worst case scenario both) of your girlfriends stirred but nothing. So you got bold. You pressed your centre down on Alexias thigh and out of reflex your blonde girlfriend flexed her muscle making you suck in your breath

“I hope you're not doing what I think your doing Cari” Jennis voice cut sharp through the silence

“Fuck” you swore and jumped a little turning your head quickly looking at your girlfriend with big eyes

“So...” the lanky spaniard looked at you expectantly “... where you doing what I think you were doing?”

“I....” you stammered “... no?”

“No?” Jenni raised an eyebrow “... to me it looked like you were trying to get off on Ales thigh”

“No no no no no” you quickly shook your head “.... I was getting.. uncomfortable... you both are too hot”

“Gracias Cari” the dark haired one smirked wolfish “... but I KNOW you tried to get yourself off... alone the fact that you waited to see if one of us would wake up... you know neither Ale nor I will let that slide.... even tho it was just an attempt... a very poor attempt”

“I didn't...” you started but one look from Jenni shut you right up

“Why are you two so loud?” Alexia groaned next to you

“Our dear Cari just tried to get off on your thigh and now is trying to lie about it” Jenni informed Alexia who shot right up into a sitting position

“You what??” the blonde glared at you which you couldn't quite take seriously since her hair was sporting the fresh out of bed look making her look like a confused Owl and not like Alexia “I can make people cry just looking at them” Putellas

“I... didn't...” you started but the way your lips pressed into a thin line told Alexia everything

“Oh I can promise you now...” the blonde looked down at you “... you will regret that”

“You wanted to come didn't you” Alexia whispered into ear while Jenni was busy eating you out “So you'll come... over and over and over again... until I AM satisfied”

“Ale... por favor” you whined trying to push Jenni away from you

“No Cariño...” the blonde whispered sweetly “.... you were so SO bratty yesterday... challenging me in front of everyone... then you called Jenni a stranger and hurt her with that... and THEN... if you weren't in problems anyway you thought it would be a good idea to use ME to get off... not very clever Bebé”

“Please...” you whimpered but with Alexia having your leg in a dead grip with her legs and Jenni having your other leg over her shoulder you had no chance to get away any time soon

“Come Cari...” the catalan growled into your ear “... come for me”

You did just that. Your back arched off the bed your body trembled and shuddered your eyes screwed shut as you came hard. Alexia smirked against your skin not letting go of you. You on the other hand didn't know where you were for a second. Not only did the blonde keep her hold on you also Jenni didn't stop. From your experience you knew the Madrista could go for hours.

“Ale please... no more” you begged the catalan who just chuckled against your skin before she gently nipped at it

“Oh mi Corazon...” Alexia shushed you “... you WANTED this”

“No I.... dear JESUS” you squeaked out feeling two of Jennis long fingers entering you roughly

“Just Jesus? The last time you called us “oh god”...” Jenni grinned from her position between your legs “... not doing my job well enough then...”

“Very well...” you groaned “... too well... enough well”

“Oh Bebé...” your blonde girlfriend now taunted you “... if you can still talk back then Jenni isn't doing her job properly”

“No... please” you begged again tears starting to form in your eyes when you felt the dark haired one thrusting her fingers in and out of you in a rapid pace and now on top sucking on your clit

“Ssshh Cari... let Jenni do her job and loosen you up for me” Alexia whispered sweetly her nose brushing against your cheek “.... you have no idea what I have in mind for you”

“Ale... por favor” you whined

“No mi Bebé...” the blonde kept her voice sweet “.. you wanted to come... now you'll come”

“I can't.... no more” you screamed out and still your body betrayed you reaching it's climax on Jennis long fingers

“Huh.... that just looked different to me” Alexia faked surprise knowing you wouldn't be done after two orgasms “... be good for us Cari”

“You are pure evil Ale” Jenni smirked from her position between your legs

“She ASKED for it..” the blond defended herself before she turned her attention back to you “... and whatever Jenni does to you know Bebé... I'll do too... only for twice as long and three times as often”

“No please” tears spilled down your cheeks knowing exactly Alexia would do just that to the point where you either tap out or use your safe word

“Oh sí mi Hermosa Corazon” the catalan murmured as she pressed open mouthed kisses to your throat

You groaned pitifully knowing you just.... lost. You feel Alexias evil smirk against your skin and right this moment you accepted your faith. The bed dipped but the blondes hand against your jaw and cheek prevented you from looking what's going to happen. But you didn't need to wait long until you realize what's going on.

“You're so beautiful Bebé” you heard Jenni murmur her hands stroking over your thighs her thumb digging into your muscle there “... you're gonna look even more beautiful stretched around my dick”

“No no no no no” you whined wriggling around but the dirty chuckle from Alexia told you everything you needed to know

“Sí Corazon...” the dark haired one smirked nudging your legs further apart with her own thighs making more room for herself “... just relax....”

You whined when you felt the head of the strap pushed inside you but at least Jenni was kind enough to give you a moment to adjust before pushing further until she bottomed out her hips flush with yours.

“So beautiful” the older one mumbled her hands gently stroking over your stomach “So tight”

“You're getting soft Hermoso” Alexia smirked looking over her shoulder at her girlfriend

“YOU are the one torturing her... not me... I'm just here to let her have fun” Jenni wriggled her eyebrows while she slowly started to gently thrust in to you

It wasn't something that you weren't used to – them speaking about you like you weren't lying writhing in between them. Most of the times you found it extremely sexy but today it hit different fuelling your insecurities and you knew you wouldn't be able to enjoy whatever they have planned with you if you wouldn't word your concerns

“Jenni... el alto” you grunted out and immediately Jenni stopped moving and Alexia looked back down on you – not that you expected anything else

“What's wrong Pequeña?” the dark haired one asked her brows furrowed

“I'm here” your voice raw making Jenni and Alexia looking first at each other than back at you

“Sí... we.. see that” Alexia said carefully not knowing what your point was

“... I mean.. I feel it” Jenni piped up getting slapped by the blonde on the shoulder

“I am HERE” you said lowly

“Sí Bebé... we see you” the blonde catalan said carefully

“Then don't talk like I'm not” you sniffled

“Oh Corazon” Alexia sighed leaning down again pressing her nose into your cheek “... lo siento... we KNOW you are here.... we KNOW”

“Sí...” Jenni nodded slowly not knowing if your head was in the right mindset to continue

“I...” you tried to find the words but you couldn't

“It's okay... breath for me mi amor” the catalan said her voice low “... while you are a brat sometimes you can always talk to us”

“I need you to relax for me Corazon” the dark haired spaniard above you said softly about to pull out as you stopped her

“No...” your hand basically flew to her hip your fingers grabbing the harness to stop her from moving

“Sí Bebé....” Jenni kept her voice soft “... your head isn't here...”

“I can...” you started again before Alexia interrupted you

“We know you CAN...” the blonde whispered “... but there's no use right now... I will get my way... don't you worry... but right now you need something else... you need us...”

“Don't tell me what I need” you snapped

“Cari...” Alexia warned you but she knew this was just a way of you coping “... this is going a VERY long year if you don't watch it...”

“I KNOW what I can take” you shot back a slight feeling of failure making it's way into your mind

“Basta” Jenni interrupted her voice strict “... let go Cari”

You begrudgingly let go of the harness and Jenni pulled back and out of you oh so carefully but still making you grunt in process

“I know Bebé” the dark haired one said softly as she wriggled out of the harness disposing it carelessly on the floor before crawling up your body pressing soft kisses to your skin “... you did so good”

“No I didn't...” you huffed “... failed both of you”

“Ay non of that” Alexia interrupted your train of thoughts firmly “... stop thinking... you did NOT fail me or Jenni or us... you made us proud by telling us what you need”

“Sí... so good for us” Jenni murmured against your skin “... but we need you to tell us what you need right now”

“I need...” you stammered “... I don't know what I need”

“Space? Gym? A run?” Alexia provided

“No” you looked at her shocked

“Cuddles? Bath? Breakfast?” Jenni smirked

“Yes” you sighed sinking deeper into the pillows letting yourself relax a little

“Which of the offered things?” your blonde girlfriend asked

“All of them” you answered like it was the most obvious thing making Jenni snort as she laid down next to you

“All of them?” Alexia asked her eyebrow raised but her eyes soft

“Sí...” you nodded letting the dark haired one pull you into her side

“You heard her Ale... vamos...” Jenni smiled widely keeping her tight hold on you

“You can also...” the blonde started confused and immediately Jenni shook her head

“Can't... someone has to stay with our Cariño” the lanky one smirked

“Increíble...” Alexia mumbled rolling her eyes swinging her legs out of the bed “... usarla para no hacer nada”

“Someone has to look after her...” Jenni yelled after Alexia who just flipped her off on her way to your bathroom getting started on that bath

“What do you want for breakfast Cari?” Alexia asked from behind you holding you securely in her arms while you had your eye closed simply enjoying the warmth of the water and the calming smell of Sandalwood, Chamomile and a little splash of citrus oil

With you being very open to stress and anxiety Alexia started quite early in your relationship to read and study about different ways to reduce your stress and calm your mind and body. You weren't open to everything she introduced you to like mediation. Even tho you could meditate if your in the mindset for it most times the quiet left you even more overwhelmed than relaxed. The blonde figured out very quickly that if the technique got pushed on you that you left the session even more stressed so she put a stop to it immediately and kept on looking for other solutions. Sometimes skin to skin contact helped you immensely and sometimes even the lightest body contact sent you into a frenzy. But what always worked was scent. If it was in form of a Bath like now or Candles or a few drops of oil that your catalan girlfriend sneaked on your pillow before you went to bed. And yet it was a long road to figure out what worked best. You absolutely despised anything too floral or too woody. Citrus always worked but citrus wasn't very calming so Alexia experimented a lot until she got the perfect mixture for you. She didn't mind one bit always one for learning new things exploring new directions. She even used Mapí and Pina a couple of time as a cross reference. Pina apparently was allergic to Jasmine – poor woman sneezed for two days straight after Alexia held the little bottle under her nose asking if she likes that smell.

“Breakfast is nearly ready” Jenni appeared in the doorway keeping her voice low seeing how you basically melted into Alexias embrace

“Vinga Cari...” Alexia mumbled against your temple “... esmorzar”

“No...” you whined your eyes still closed

“Sí... vinga” the blonde said pushing you slightly to sit up more

“If you move at this rate we can make dinner out of it” Jenni rolled her eyes disappearing again

“Come on Cariño....” the catalan poked your sides making you whine even louder “.... you know we'll never hear the end of it if we need too long and Jennis hard fought breakfast making is for nothing”

“We can eat it later... it's only cut up fruit” you whine sinking back slowly again

“I made eggs!!” your other girlfriend yelled from the kitchen knowing you and Alexia bashing her breakfast skills

“I rather get a red in a Champions League final than to end up in hospital again because of food poisoning” you mumbled making Alexia bark out a laugh

“We'll just let her eat first...” the blonde smiled “... if she drops dead from the chair we know not to eat it”

“You see....” you slowly got out of the bath “... food poisoning takes time... even IF she eats first... it's at least four hours until the symptoms kick in... I'm NOT risking it again”

“I'll never do anything for you again if you don't move your ass soon” the dark haired one yelled from the kitchen again and you heard she's getting annoyed

“We're already moving” Alexia yelled back wrapping you in a big fluffy towel

“Good...” was the answer you got as you pulled an old t-shirt (probably Jennis according to the length of it) and put on some boxers Alexia held out to you knowing you prefer those to “normal” underwear

“I don't feel good...” you mumbled your back pressed against Jennis front as you were laying on the couch her arm loosely around your midsection your feet in Alexias lap

“What's wrong Corazon” the dark haired one murmured from behind you her eyes closed as she was about to drift off to sleep

“My stomach hurts” you whine trying to get more comfortable

“Oh no...” your catalan girlfriend looked over alarmed “... not again”

“What you mean again?” Jenni lifted her head slightly looking at the blonde

“You cooked her into hospital before” Alexia said eyeing the lanky one until she caught on

“ONE time... that was ONE time” your girlfriend exclaimed

“Ale...” you whined holding your stomach

“Oh Bebé...” the blonde was up as a shot kneeling next to your body

“Hurts” you whimpered while Jenni looked flabbergasted

“I used the book you gave me for Christmas!!!” Jenni defended herself

“And still our Cari is laying here in pain...” Alexia snapped at your girlfriend “... Jesús Jennifer... why do you always have to offer to cook”

“I followed the book step by step” your dark haired girlfriend huffed starting to gently massage your stomach making you groan

“We should go to the hospital” the catalan mumbled stroking some hair out of your face

“Tea... we could make tea” Jenni said quickly “... tea is good for stomach”

That's when it happened. You quickly sat up thinking you need to puke. Alexia scrambling away thinking the same. She loved you but it was not on her new years agenda to get puked on by her girlfriend. But no... the burp that left your body was everything but NOT human. Jenni and Alexia looked at you like you were transforming into a demon right in front of you while you smiled happily instantly feeling better.

“Now I feel better” you declare grinning widely as you threw your body back on the couch getting comfortable again

“That was...” Jenni looked down at you then back up at Alexia

“... I'm at loss for words” Alexia shook her head still shocked “... how can such a pequeña Cariño make such a sound??”

“It's a special talent” you smiled cheerful “... you should look up the video where Mapí challenged me to do the Sprite-challenge... THAT was loud”

“I'm dating a child...” the catalan said bewildered “... a literal child”

“Found it” Jenni held up her phone grinning widely

“Two children...” Alexia shook her head stunned listening to Mapís voice cheering you on to ex the bottle and then the demonic sound coming out of the phone while Jenni nearly died laughing and you grinning pleased

[janiehellion]

Revved Up

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Learning to ride a motorcycle should’ve been simple. After all, you knew your way around bikes better than anyone in Alexandria—except Daryl Dixon. But one crash and one pissed-off redneck later, and you're stuck with him giving you a hands-on crash course in focus and control.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / MINOR INJURIES / VAGINAL FINGERING / CUNNILINGUS / SEMI-PUBLIC / ROUGH SEX / PAIN PLAY / MARKING

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.441

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S05E13—ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ & S05E14—ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first oneshot of 2025—and my longest yet! Sorry, not sorry, for the length; Daryl Dixon refused to stop until the lesson was fully drilled in. Hope it's worth the ride.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Out of everyone from the new group in Alexandria, he was the one who made the least effort to fit in. He was quiet and always looked ready to leave, like this wasn't a place to call home. He preferred to keep his distance, doing his own thing around the community, and that made him even more interesting to you.

Daryl Dixon was certainly different from the rest.

The first time you caught him working on the motorcycle and the parts he got from Aaron, in Aaron's and Eric's garage, something caught your attention. It wasn't just the way he moved, though the way his hands worked on the machine was something you couldn't ignore. No, it was more than that, and it pulled you in.

And for you?

The sound of metal and the smell of oil were all too familiar. You'd grown up around motorcycles and spent hours watching your old man work on his Harley Davidson most of the time, until you decided to become a mechanic after school, especially for motorcycles. That knowledge was something you didn't share with many others in Alexandria, but when you saw Daryl putting that motorcycle together piece by piece, you figured it might be a good way to start a conversation, if nothing else.

Sure, he kept to himself mostly, spending more time with his crossbow than with humans. But it made him stand out in a place where most people were getting used to living 'normally' again. And you didn't want anything normal. You wanted real.

That's what led you to the garage.

Daryl, of course, was bent over the motorcycle he'd been working on for some time now.

As you walked closer, you pretended to inspect his work. "What is this, a '92 Honda? Nice setup. Yamaha front end, though? Bit of a Frankenstein's monster, huh?"

That got his attention. "The hell ya know 'bout bikes?"

You shrugged, smirking at him. "What, do you think just 'cause I live in Alexandria, I can't tell a carburetor from a walker? Oh, please."

He hadn't spoken to you much since he arrived, but then again, Daryl didn't talk to anyone much. But you? You barely ever got a grunt in your direction since he'd been here.

"Looks like it's finally coming together," you started, trying to sound bored. It was a shitty way to break the ice, but small talk wasn't your thing after all.

Daryl didn't even look up. Grease covered his hands, and his current expression made him look like he'd rather punch you than say hello.

"Yeah, maybe if ya'd stop annoyin' my ass," he murmured, tightening a bolt.

"I'm only annoying the bike," you snorted. "And I'm making sure it doesn't fall apart the second you ride it out of the community."

That earned you a glare. A quick one. And you held his stare for that moment, refusing to look away.

"So yer always this annoyin'?" He shot back, wiping his hands on a rag and finally standing up to his full height.

"You tell me. So what is it? This… special kind of build?" You asked, gesturing to the motorcycle. You had to admit, it did look quite nice.

His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be a little surprised about your curiosity. "Do ya really know bikes?"

You shrugged, playing it cool. "Enough to know that this isn't a normal setup, but that's just personal taste, you know?"

"It'll work."

"Sure, until it doesn't," you continued with a smirk. "But hey, it's your funeral. Or someone else's if that thing gives out mid-run."

He grunted, clearly not in the mood to admit you might have a point.

"Still, not bad for what you had to work with. Must've been a pain in the ass to track down some of the other parts," you moved closer, getting a better look at the setup. "But I heard Aaron's been helping you out. He's good with scavenging stuff. Though, I bet he didn't know half of what you needed."

That got a grunt of agreement from Daryl. "He ain't bad. Jus' don't need anyone watchin' when I'm workin'."

"Noted." You raised your hands, but you didn't back off. Instead, you crouched next to the machine, inspecting the details up close. You could feel Daryl's eyes on you, probably wondering what the hell you were doing.

After a moment of silence, you looked up at him again. "You ever really gonna take this thing out, or are you just building it for the hell of it?"

Daryl looked over to the garage door as if he was thinking whether or not to answer. Finally, he sighed. "Gonna use it. Aaron wants me on the road, recruitin' and all. Need somethin' fast."

"Yeah? And what if you end up with a flat tire out there? Wait, that might not even be a problem, since it kind of looks like you're building yourself a time machine there," you answered, standing up. "But you're gonna need more than just duct tape and spit to get this thing running."

Daryl's eyes narrowed again. "Told ya I know what I'm doin'," he snapped, his hand tightening around the wrench like he was itching to throw it at you.

But you weren't about to be ignored that easily. "You've really got some interesting mismatched parts here. Yamaha forks on a Honda… Look, I'm just saying that you might wanna check the suspension before you ride outta here. Unless you're aiming to get launched off it."

"Gonna manage."

You snorted. "Sure, you will. But hey, if you ever feel like teaching someone else how to ride, I wouldn't mind learning. I mean, someone's gotta be around to save your ass when that thing tries to kill you."

Daryl shot you a look, his jaw clenching slightly, but this time, he just stared at you like you were the most confusing person he'd ever seen.

"Ya wanna learn how to ride?" His voice sounded annoyed, like the idea was somehow offensive to him, but there was also some slight disbelief to be heard as if he wasn't sure why you'd ask him of all people. "Ain't got time for that. Got 'nough problems without babysittin'."

"Come on," you pressed further. "What's the harm? Or is the asshole routine just for me? Besides, if you ever crash, I promise I'll write you some kinda eulogy. Something about how you died doing what you loved—which is looking perpetually pissed off."

You could've sworn you saw the slightest smirk, but Daryl quickly busied himself with the motorcycle, like he hadn't shown you might really have a point with your tips.

Keeping your voice casual, you stepped back. "Let me know if you change your mind," you continued, brushing off your knees. "Might be fun."

With that, you gave him one last smirk and turned around, leaving him to think about whatever he thought of you.

You spent the next couple of days trying not to think about Daryl Dixon, which was about as easy as trying not to notice a walker biting your arm. But despite your best efforts to act like it was no big deal, the thought of riding that motorcycle—and more specifically, him teaching you—kept making its way into your head.

Daryl didn't say anything about your offer for those few days, too. Hell, he didn't say much of anything, really. He'd pass by you in Alexandria, his crossbow by his side, always looking like someone just spit in his drink. But you had gotten used to the silent treatment by now, so you didn't let it get to you... much.

Indeed, it didn't take long to figure out that convincing Daryl Dixon to teach you how to ride a motorcycle was like trying to herd cats—but grumpy, feral ones… with knives.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself near the garage again, and you hadn't planned on seeing him, but let's face it, you were intrigued. And there he was—still working on the motorcycle and still looking like it personally insulted him.

However, the thing looked all patched together with scavenged pieces and maybe a little bit of wishful thinking. It had a certain look to it, like it wanted to run off into the wild and never come back.

Daryl didn't even move. He didn't look your way. He just kept wrenching something near the seat before he glared at you like you'd asked him to solve a math problem.

"Thought I'd come by and bless you with my knowledge once more," you announced, smirking as you leaned against the workbench.

Daryl only rolled his eyes—actually rolled them—like he couldn't believe he had to put up with you again. "Ain't nobody asked for that."

"Yeah, well, nobody asked for that bike to look like it's held together with a plea and a prayer, but here we are," you shot back, leaning forward slightly. "'Livin' on a Prayer,' in fact."

He grunted, shoving the wrench into the toolbox with force. "The hell do ya know 'bout motorcycles, anyway?"

"I do know motorcycles! I told you, didn't I? And that thing," you pointed to the machine, "is one bad pothole away from turning into scrap metal."

Daryl scoffed, clearly not a fan of having his work criticized, especially by someone who, in his eyes, hadn't earned the right to say something about it. "It'll hold. 'S a good bike."

"Sure, sure," you said, grinning at him. "But if you're so confident, why don't you accept my offer? Teach me how to ride. Let's see if this thing here can handle it."

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was thinking about his options. You could practically see the gears running in his head—whether to shut you down and tell you to piss off or give in just to prove you wrong.

"Ya serious 'bout this?"

"Dead serious," you said, holding his stare. "What? Are you afraid?"

His nostrils flared in the way they did when he seemed to be two seconds from snapping at you, but instead, he just turned back to his work. "Ya wanna learn? Fine. But don't come cryin' to me when ya hurt yer ass."

"Oh, don't worry, Dixon. If I hurt my ass, I'll make sure you hurt yours, too," you said, biting back a laugh as you straightened up. "But I swear, this thing's gonna be your mid-life crisis. What's next, leather pants and chaps?"

He showed you one of those stares again—half-annoyed, half-confused—like he wasn't sure if he should bother responding or pretend you didn't exist.

"Ya done?"

"Done? I'm here to save you from yourself, Daryl. You keep this up, and in a week, you're gonna be having a mullet and wearing a crop top."

He stared at you like you'd grown an extra head. "What the hell're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Mid-life crisis, Daryl. First, it's the bike. Then, it's questionable fashion choices. Next thing you know, you're coming back from a run with a Corvette and crying over Bon Jovi ballads. I'm just here to make sure it won't happen."

"Ain't havin' no damn crisis."

You smirked. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say. Just remember, I offered to help. I can't wait to see you when you're rocking those chaps and a bandana."

"So, ya still wanna learn to ride or not?" His voice sounded definitely pissed off.

You raised your eyebrows, as if in shock. "Oh my, was that an offer in return? From you? I'm touched, really. Let me just—" You pretended to wipe a tear away from your eye and sob. "This moment's very special to me."

"Shut up," he grumbled, but his voice gave way that he almost sounded amused.

"I'm just saying, this is progress," you said. "Next thing I know, we'll be exchanging friendship bracelets."

Daryl didn't respond right away, but you thought you had seen enjoyment, maybe? Or irritation. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, he was back on his feet now, pulling the motorcycle upright and kicking the stand back. Soon enough, the familiar sound of the engine made its way through the garage, and damn if it didn't make your pulse race just a little.

"Get on."

His sudden words made you blink at him in surprise. "Wait, like… right now? Where's the foreplay, Dixon? At least buy me a drink first."

"Nah, when I'm dead. Yeah, right now," he snapped, unable to believe you were even asking.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, swinging your leg over the motorcycle with as much confidence as you could have at that moment. The seat seemed normal, but it still felt bigger than you expected.

Daryl stepped beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you. "Ya know how to start?"

"Of course I do," you said, reaching for the handlebars.

You were halfway through fumbling with the throttle at first when Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "That ain't how ya do it," he growled as he leaned in. "First lesson: This here's the throttle—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a throttle is," you interrupted, waving him off. "I'm not a complete idiot. I could turn this thing into scrap and piece it back together if you wanted me to, so..."

His eyes narrowed. "Then maybe shut up and listen."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You couldn't help it—pissing him off was just too easy.

"Clutch on the left, throttle on the right," he continued, his fingers tapping the handlebars. "Brake's here. Don't yank it like an idiot." He then gave the machine a once-over. "Ya pull the clutch, twist the throttle slowly. Too much, and yer gonna stall it."

"Okay, understood. Show me."

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh but soon moved behind you, reaching around to grip the handlebars. His strong chest pressed against your back, and you immediately forgot how to breathe.

"Ya gotta ease into it," he instructed while his fingers guided yours on the throttle.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, ease into it," you mumbled, trying to sound unimpressed. "And what happens if I don't ease into it? The whole thing explodes?"

"Nah. Ya gonna wipe out an' eat dirt," he shot back, his lips showing a bit of a smirk. "But maybe ya'll learn faster that way."

"Yeah, well, I've eaten worse," you answered, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Besides, I doubt you've ever taught anyone how to ride before. What if you're just a terrible teacher?"

He huffed against your neck. "Ain't teachin' ya much. Now, idle it forward."

You followed his instructions, twisting the throttle just enough to get the engine purring beneath you. The vibration went through your legs, and despite yourself, you had to admit it felt very, very good.

"Okay, now what?" You asked, trying to sound bored even though the adrenaline was starting to kick in.

"Now ya balance," Daryl said, his voice neutral like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Try not to fall over." You could feel his eyes on you, judging every movement you made. "Quit messin' 'round. Friction Zone is how ya idle forward."

You shot him a look but did as he said, trying not to stall the motorcycle. For a second, you wobbled, and you swore you heard Daryl whisper something—probably betting on how soon you'd crash.

But you didn't. You steadied yourself. It was a weird feeling—kind of thrilling, kind of terrifying.

"Well, look at that," you said, showing him a grin. "Didn't fall over. Guess you're not the worst teacher after all."

"Jus' keep 'em hands on the bars," he instructed, his voice rather patient—well, as patient as Daryl ever got.

You did as he said, gripping the handlebars harder, trying not to think about how close you were to him. His smell wasn't exactly unpleasant. In fact, it was kind of… intoxicating.

Not that you'd ever admit that to him out loud.

"Fine, so what's next? Do I just rev it up and hope for the best?"

Daryl snorted, clearly unimpressed with you being unable to wait. "Ya listen, or yer gonna end up on yer ass."

"You know, Daryl, I don't usually take threats during lessons, but I'll make an exception for you."

His grip tightened on the handlebars, and you thought he might just leave you there. But he didn't. "Don't jerk the damn throttle, woman, or yer gonna take off too fast."

"Throttle, got it. Don't jerk it off. Guess I'll save that one for later." You wiggled your eyebrows, even though he couldn't see it.

Daryl stiffened, grumbling something you didn't quite catch, though it definitely wasn't a compliment.

"C'mon now, twist it—slowly," he ordered.

You followed his lead, the motorcycle easing forward just a bit as you worked the throttle.

"There ya go," Daryl said, his voice sounding a bit less harsh now that you weren't about to play around. "Gotta ease into it."

"Wow, who knew you could be so supportive?" You teased. "Almost makes me think you care."

He grunted. "Jus' don't wanna pick yer ass up off the ground."

"Got it, got it. Now, let's see if I can actually ride this thing without killing myself."

Daryl's hand moved to the clutch, his fingers touching yours as he guided you through the motions. You weren't sure if it was the machine or him, but your heart was beating much faster than usual. Maybe it was both. Either way, you were in for one hell of a ride.

His hand was warm, calloused, and—despite everything—comforting as he guided you out of the garage.

"Okay, slow down a bit, but not too much," he instructed, his voice almost a growl. The way he said it made you shiver, but you refused to let it show. You could be cool about this, right?

"Or I could just go full throttle and see how far I can fly through the streets of Alexandria," you laughed back.

"Real funny," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Jus' don't fuck up. Y'ain't flyin' nowhere. Ya gotta keep it steady."

"Right, no jerking off," you said, moving your head to the side just enough to glance at him. "That's usually my motto, you know, but I can make an exception for you regarding that as well."

"Focus. Don't push it," he warned. "Ya gotta keep yer focus on the bike, not me."

"Really? I thought you were my main distraction." You leaned back a little. "Sure, I'll focus. But I'm also pretty good at multitasking." As you worked the throttle again, you felt a rush of adrenaline. "So, what happens if I actually do fall? You gonna come to my rescue?"

Daryl didn't answer immediately. Instead, he loosened his grip on the handlebars, his body tense next to you. "Ya get back up. Everyone falls. 'S what ya do afterward that matters."

"Profound," you smirked. "You should start writing poetry! 'When life knocks you down, just get back on your bike.' Classic wisdom."

"Shut up and drive."

The motorcycle moved as you used the throttle too hard, and you fought to regain control, laughing nervously. "Shit! Maybe I should have listened to that part about not jerking it!"

He sighed, not bothering to hide his amusement this time. "Ya keep talkin', and ya might jus' convince me to kick ya off myself."

"Promises, promises," you smirked, adrenaline rushing through you, making everything feel a bit more exciting.

He grumbled something again—probably another insult—but he didn't try to stop you. Your movements weren't exactly smooth, but it was a start.

"You're a terrible teacher, by the way," you soon said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Good," Daryl answered. "Means ya won't ask me to do this shit again."

You were just getting into the rhythm, feeling the motorcycle beneath you and getting the hang of it, when you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer behind you.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Aaron's voice destroyed the moment, and you felt Daryl tense near you.

"Shit," he groaned, practically gritting his teeth. You tried to process what was happening as you got off the seat, the way Daryl's body stiffened and the smirk faded from your lips.

"Oh, nothing, just a little driving lesson," you announced, trying to keep going despite the sudden stop. "Motto: 'Try Not to Die, but If You Do, It Ain't My Problem.'"

Aaron laughed, walking closer to you both. "So, it's finally finished?" He looked at the machine, inspecting the mix of parts that somehow came together into something that resembled a proper motorcycle.

"Jus' 'bout," Daryl replied dryly.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Daryl, who was already stepping away from him and you.

"That's great. Looks like you're making some great progress," Aaron continued, stepping closer.

"Ain't needin' ya to worry 'bout that," Daryl grumbled, the annoyance in his voice unmistakable. "Lesson's over."

"Wait, what? You can't just—"

"Don't push it," he snapped, shooting you a look that said he was done. "Ya wanna learn, ya have to find someone else."

You blinked, stunned as he walked away with the motorcycle by his side. "Daryl, stop!"

"Forget 'bout it," he called back, almost like his voice belonged to a different person. "Y'ain't ready."

Your frustration boiled over, and you turned to Aaron, arms crossed. "Thanks for ruining my lesson, by the way. Just what I needed today—more interruptions."

Aaron frowned, glancing between you and Daryl again as he watched him walk away. "What did you expect? He's still new here. Trying to keep his distance from the rest of us."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need to be an asshole about it," you snapped. "I was getting somewhere!"

"You have to understand that the whole group has been through a lot. Daryl's not always going to be open with people," he explained, but it didn't help your mood.

"I get that, but I was just trying to learn something! Guess it's my fault for thinking he could actually teach me without being a complete asshole about it."

"Maybe give it some time?" Aaron suggested, his voice softer now, sounding more sympathetic. "He'll come around."

"Maybe," you sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "But just when I thought I could finally get him to smile and to talk, you pull this."

Aaron's expression was by now somewhere between concern and curiosity as you huffed, glaring at Daryl walking away.

"Really, Aaron…" You continued, throwing your hands in the air. "You couldn't have waited five goddamn minutes longer to come and ruin my day? You see me finally making some progress, and you think, 'Oh, hey! The perfect time to interrupt!'"

Aaron raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't mean to ruin anything. I didn't know you two were having... whatever that was."

"Whatever that was?" You repeated, your voice rising. "It was a goddamn driving lesson! Or, at least, it was supposed to be before you came along with your good intentions and your bad timing!"

Aaron frowned, the tone in his voice still kind, but he wasn't backing down. "Look, I was just checking in because I heard the sound of the engine. I thought Daryl wanted to head out, and I only wanted to see if he's done with his work on the bike. I didn't realize you were both so busy."

"Busy?" You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head. "You know what? Forget it. Next time I'm about to get Daryl Dixon to do something other than grunt or skin dead animals on the porch, I'll write you a goddamn note so you don't fuck it up. Now he's all pissed off and stomping away with my only chance at learning how to ride a damn bike and not kill myself."

"I doubt he's mad at you," Aaron responded. "Daryl's complicated. Like the rest of the group. They're still very new here. And you were the same when I found you and brought you here. But you're probably closer to getting through to him than anyone else."

You snorted. "Yeah, sure. 'Cause nothing says 'bonding' and 'getting to know each other' like storming off with his damn Franken-bike in a hurry. Really fucking touching."

Aaron smiled, squeezing your shoulder. "Just think about it."

You exhaled loudly, putting your hands on your hips. "Sounds like it's from a fortune cookie. Thanks for nothing."

With that, Aaron simply walked off, leaving you alone.

Soon, some days had passed since your lesson with Daryl. Days that quickly turned annoying when you realized he was avoiding you like you were the last slice of cold pizza at a party.

It felt weird.

Like, ridiculously weird.

And it didn't help that every time you tried to casually walk into the garage or catch him before he went on a supply run, he was either nowhere to be found or suddenly too busy to talk. You even half-expected to see a 'Do Not Disturb' sign near the bike.

It wasn't like you were stalking him—okay, maybe a little—but it was hard to stop thinking about him.

"Should I ask for him? Should I knock on the garage door? Maybe he's just sleeping? Or dead?" You laughed at the last thought. With Daryl, it wasn't a real possibility.

Finally, you sighed and decided to call it a day. "Alright, Daryl Dixon, you win," you said to yourself, kicking the dirt as you turned to leave.

But just as you made it halfway down the street, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, followed by a clink of metal that made your heart race. You turned, and there he was—finally. Daryl Dixon, leaning against the side of the garage, arms crossed, his eyes hidden behind his hair, and with a cigarette in one hand.

Oh no, you're not getting away this time.

"Been hiding from me, huh?" You asked as soon as you reached him. "Gonna run off again? Or maybe you've just been too busy?" You faked a yawn, your eyes narrowing. "Or hiding from the bike lesson, maybe?"

Daryl simply scoffed, the only sign of life you got out of him as you stood a few inches from him. His eyes looked down, clearly not thrilled to see you standing there, but you didn't give a damn.

You put your hands on your hips, pretending to inspect him like he was the most boring human in Alexandria. "Hey… You did promise, you know? I didn't just imagine that part now, did I?"

"Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing wider. "Oh? Sure feels like it. Guess you finally realized you're not as good of a teacher as you think."

Daryl sighed, sounding not only frustrated but... pissed off? Maybe both?

"Don't need to explain shit to ya," he grumbled in return.

You grinned, shrugging. "Well, if you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not being an asshole, I guess I'll just go back to trying to learn from someone else." You turned to leave, but not without looking back over your shoulder again. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to teach me again."

That got him. He pushed himself off the garage, taking a few steps closer.

"You promised, Daryl. Or is that just another thing you like to say and not follow through with? You were gonna teach me. Not that I care; I'm sure I'll learn from someone else... unless you finally stop being an ass," you taunted, still looking over your shoulder at him.

Daryl's hand shot out before you could get too far, catching your arm in a grip that could've cracked a tree in half if he wanted it to. He was definitely pissed.

With a growl, he yanked you back toward him. "Fine. I'll teach ya. But not here. Not in Alexandria." He released your arm. "Meet me by the gates. Tomorrow, at dawn."

Without waiting for a response, Daryl walked back inside, leaving you standing there with a grin.

The next morning, you woke up early, a little earlier than you'd planned, but that was the least of your problems. There was a knot in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of, not even with a few stretches or by putting on your clothes.

This wasn't just another run. It wasn't just another 'do this or die trying' kinda deal. No, this was different. And for some reason, you were extremely nervous. What was he gonna do? What was he thinking?

You threw on your jacket, tied your boots like they were the last thing you'd ever do, and then... you hesitated.

What the hell was wrong with you?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself out the door and towards the gates of Alexandria. When you finally made it, you saw him. There he was—Daryl Dixon, standing there like he was waiting for the bus, except minus the whole 'bus' part. The motorcycle was leaned up against the walls, and he was staring straight ahead as if you were the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Well, damn. You did show up. Thought maybe you'd hide behind that attitude of yours for another day," you said, taking your time to walk up to him, not quite giving a damn whether he was ready for you or not.

But Daryl didn't even acknowledge you. He just flicked his cigarette away and gave you a look that could probably kill.

He then grunted, clearly not amused. "Ain't here to talk."

You looked at him, smirking a little. "Oh, I thought we were here to talk. 'Cause last time I checked, you were too busy to teach me anything useful. Guess you did promise, isn't that right?" You continued and raised an eyebrow. "So... what's the deal, huh? You just gonna stand there, or are we gonna start this driving lesson?"

He was still giving you that dead-eyed stare like you just asked him to swallow down rusty nails. The way Daryl was looking at you, all calm but irritated at the same time—it made everything weirder. But now, you had no choice. You had to get on that machine if you wanted to learn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him after he took the motorcycle and got onto it himself. "Get on."

You hesitated before swinging your leg over it as well, the movement too awkward to be smooth. There was no denying it—there was a whole lot of you that wasn't exactly eager to be pressed up against him.

You bit your lip but tried to keep your cool. "Alright, I'm on."

Daryl didn't answer. He just started the engine, his hands gripping the handlebars, and that was when you had to settle into place—right behind him. You were close now—way too close—and that knot in your stomach was only tightening itself. You couldn't help it. You had to steady yourself, right? And as much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself sliding your hands down, almost instinctively. But... it wasn't enough.

And it wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. The way he was so broad, strong, and so very close made it impossible to think straight. Your palms were sweating, and it wasn't because you were nervous about falling off. It was him. Just him. And God, it was infuriating, letting your thoughts run wild.

Why does he have to smell so good? Why can't he just be an asshole and not… this?

Your hands moved. Lower.

You didn't mean to, but... there you were. Your fingers grabbed his hips, right there in front of you and so, so very close. He was warm, so warm, and you couldn't not notice it, even if you tried. But you weren't even trying.

Oh, no. Don't. Don't do it. Not now...

But your hands stayed right there. Resting on his hips. You couldn't help it.

God, he feels good. Warm. Strong. Hell, if I slide even lower, maybe I can make him feel me, too. What if I just��

You quickly cut your thoughts off, but the temptation was there. It was stupid. It's Daryl, you reminded yourself, though it didn't make the racing of your heart in your chest any less intense.

"Quit it. Jus' hold on," he suddenly said, still keeping his focus on the road in front of you.

You snapped out of it, blinking as though you were just pulled back from the edge of a cliff.

"Me?" You shot back, trying to sound as neutral as possible, hoping he didn't feel the way your heart was pounding. "You're the one acting like you've got a stick up your ass. Don't act like I'm the problem here."

Daryl didn't respond—again. His hands tightened on the handlebars, and you felt him move slightly on the motorcycle. You wondered if he could feel the way you were still pressed against him, too. If he noticed, he didn't give any sign, but hell, you weren't sure whether that was calming you down or just making everything worse.

Your hands were still grabbing his hips. Still low. Still in the danger zone. And every second you stayed on that seat that close behind him, the more you realized just how close you were to crossing a line you couldn't uncross, too.

Just stop touching him like that. For God's sake, control yourself...

But it was too late, wasn't it? Your hands were already doing what they wanted, sliding ever so slightly as Daryl revved the engine beneath you. And as the machine roared further and you felt the vibration between your legs, you couldn't deny it—you were holding on tight...

And shit, you hated yourself for it, but you couldn't think straight.

Your hands—those traitorous, slightly trembling hands—started to move further without you even trying. At first, you could feel the hardness of his muscles under his shirt. You didn't mean to, but your fingers couldn't resist anymore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You kept telling yourself you weren't like this, but the warmth of his body in front of you, the vibrations of the motorcycle—the whole situation—it was clearly messing with your head.

And then your fingers touched the waistband of his pants. Your mind started spiraling.

Fuck, stop it.

But your hands were moving still, just a little further, and before you could catch yourself, you were dangerously close to slipping one whole hand past the button of his pants.

Why does this feel so fucking good? So right? No! This is so wrong!

You knew you shouldn't be doing this. You were driving yourself crazy just being this close to him. You should pull away and act like nothing happened. But the thought of him—of the way he looked, the way he smelled—it was too much.

Should I really keep going? You wondered, heart racing. What if I just slide my hand inside and just feel him?

The idea was so sudden it made your stomach growl, but you couldn't stop imagining it. The way he'd react—if he'd stop the motorcycle and throw you off, or if he'd just let you have your way.

But your hand froze at the button of his pants, resting there, barely touching it. You hated how much you wanted to go further, how much you needed to.

Pull back. Move your hand away. Stop thinking about how strong he is.

The way his muscles moved under your fingers, how he wasn't even saying one thing to stop you. Did he want this? Did he feel it too? You hated how much you wanted to find out.

But Daryl kept driving, focusing on the surroundings and possible dangers as you left Alexandria.

Why isn't he stopping me?

He was tense, but that was it. No words, no warnings. And that drove you wild.

Maybe he wants this as much as I do.

Your mind was on fire now, and you wanted him so badly, it felt like your whole body was about to explode. And the weirdest part? You weren't sure you even cared anymore if this was wrong.

If you don't stop me, I swear I'll—

You didn't finish that thought, and as soon as Daryl pulled off the road and into a clearing surrounded by trees, the motorcycle came to a stop.

"This'll do," he said, getting off it and motioning for you to follow.

You stumbled off, your legs still shaky from holding yourself together.

Right now, you wanted to hate him. To scream at him. But the truth was, you were more pissed at yourself. You were supposed to be learning how to ride a motorcycle, not imagining what it would feel like to be all over him and…

No. Stop it. Get your shit together.

"Alright, what's next?" You asked, doing your best to sound casual even as your heart was still racing. "You gonna teach me how not to eat dirt or just let me ride it?"

Daryl glared at you, one eyebrow raised like you were the one making this complicated. "Jus' pay attention."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Sure, 'cause that's been working out for me so far." You crossed your arms, a little too aware of how your body felt like it was overheating.

Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him...

He was already gesturing to the motorcycle again, explaining the controls all over. "Clutch, brake, throttle—all that stuff."

You nodded, doing your best to stay focused despite how goddamn awkward you felt.

Focus; you can do this.

You glanced at him and caught the way his hands moved around near you, the way his fingers got hold of the throttle like he was born to do this.

"Ya won't wreck it if ya listen."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves. "Yeah… 'if,' but okay."

Daryl took a step closer, the space between you suddenly feeling way too small. "Stop makin' jokes, and start payin' some real attention."

You could feel how he stared you down, even without looking into his eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you were blushing—hard.

Shit, shit, shit.

He then smirked, only a little, and you wanted to punch him for it. Or kiss him. You weren't sure. Either way, you tugged at the collar of your shirt like it was too tight, but there was no escaping it.

Daryl was watching you, though his smirk was already gone again. "Jus' sit down on it. Let's see if ya can at least do that alone while out here, without fallin' over."

You had to swallow hard.

Just get on, just get on, and don't think about him.

Your mind was screaming at you to stop acting like you wanted to crawl all over him, but your body was betraying you.

And Daryl for sure wasn't even trying to make it easier, and all you could do was grit your teeth and pray you didn't lose it.

The first time you tried to balance the motorcycle, you almost tipped it over, but Daryl quickly got a hold of it—and you—before you really ate dirt.

"Goddamn it," he groaned, yanking you upright and keeping the motorcycle steady. "Yer fightin' the damn thing instead o' drivin' it. Quit makin' it harder for yerself."

You shot him a glare but didn't respond, figuring it was easier to just get the lesson over with. This time, he stepped in behind you, hands landing on your waist like he was holding onto a ticking time bomb. His grip tightened just enough to make you aware of his presence, but you weren't going to let him throw you off balance.

"Ease up on the damn clutch," he grumbled. "Slowly. Ya ain't in a damn hurry."

By the third or fourth try, you were starting to get the hang of it. You made it a few feet without the motorcycle wobbling like it had been possessed. You didn't even stall it this time.

"Look at me!" You grinned over your shoulder at him all triumphant as you stopped at a treeline. "I'm basically a stunt double at this point! Wanna try jumping flaming buses next?"

Daryl shot you that look again. The one that made you want to throw something at him. "Nah, yer bein' an amateur stunt double wantin' to set yerself on fire… 'cause ya can't keep yer hands to yerself."

You ignored him.

You had it now. You totally had it.

But who needed to play it safe when you could push this lesson to the limit and prove yourself?

You twisted the throttle again but felt a sudden rush of speed. "Shit!" You screamed from far away. "Fuck!"

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" Daryl shouted before you were hurtling forward at fast speed, your stomach dropping as it made everything around you blurry in sight. You had no idea how to stop in the heat of the moment without throwing yourself off it, and that realization hit you hard. You were in panic mode now, and trying to steer only made it worse.

"Daryl? A little help here, please!" You screamed, gripping the handlebars as your hands shook.

"Hold on!" Daryl yelled, but his warning was already too late. The front wheel hit something—a big rock? A tree stump? You didn't even see it. All you knew was that the motorcycle lurched like a wild animal wanting to throw you off its back.

For a moment, you were sure you were about to die. But Daryl wasn't about to let that happen. He lunged forward, grabbing you and yanking you off the seat just before it tipped completely and threw you off.

You and Daryl went down, both of you slamming into the ground hard. You landed on top of him—completely on top of him, with your thighs pressed against his hips and your upper body crashing against his chest.

You knew you fucked up, but his expression only made it worse. The slight pain in your body was nothing compared to the humiliation you felt. All you could do was catch your breath and stare at him.

And Daryl was flat-out pissed. His face was full of rage, and he was breathing hard from the crash. He shoved you off him, his hands on your shoulders as he stood up.

"What the hell were ya thinkin'!?" His eyes were practically burning holes through you. "I told ya to slow the hell down and focus! Ya don't listen for shit!"

You didn't want to admit that he was right, that you'd been very reckless. "Well, maybe you should've taught me how to actually ride instead of standing there like a statue and just barking orders!"

Daryl's hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

He wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

You were both breathing fast now, adrenaline still running through your veins. "And maybe I'm just a fast learner, okay?" You continued.

Daryl looked at you like he was about to rip you in half. "Yer not a fast learner; yer a damn idiot! And now I gotta drag yer dumb ass back!"

He grabbed the motorcycle and swung his leg over it with a grunt. "Get the fuck on," he growled in frustration.

You glared at him for a moment, but you weren't about to argue. You had to get home. You had no choice but to follow him.

Throwing your leg over the seat, you settled behind him. You couldn't even look up now. Every time you did, your stomach hurt in a way that made no sense. The anger, the shame—it was all so degrading. You wanted to argue. You really did. But you were too embarrassed, and your body was too sore to keep up any fight.

Daryl started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life under you. As he sped down the road, you couldn't help but notice how tense his body still was. Every muscle in his back seemed to be stiff. And he didn't say a word anymore. Not a single word as you rode back toward Alexandria in silence.

His hands gripped the handlebars with such force, you swore the motorcycle might crack in half under the pressure if he kept it up.

You were pissed as well. Pissed at yourself for fucking up and pissed at him for making you feel all... this. You hated that you couldn't read him, hated how he could just shut everything out like that, and especially for making you feel something you didn't want to feel.

Once back at Alexandria, the garage door had barely been shut when Daryl's frustration exploded. He was still breathing hard from the ride, and he hadn't pushed you away since you'd now gotten back, but the way he was glaring at you said enough.

He took a step toward you, pushing you back a little. "Crashed my damn bike…"

"I didn't wreck it, Daryl," you argued. "It's fine!"

"Fine?" He repeated. "That's what ya call near splittin' yer skull open?"

"I didn't crash on purpose!" You shot back, the frustration boiling over. "I'm not dumb!"

He let out a mean laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Coulda fooled me, dumbass!"

"You're the one all trembling here, not me!" You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto whatever bit of defiance was left. "It was an accident, Daryl," you continued, glaring right back at him. "It's not like I'm trying to be your damn stunt double!"

He scoffed, not buying your excuse. "Bullshit. Ya were pushin' it, tryin' to prove somethin', weren't ya? Ya coulda gotten yerself killed!"

Maybe he was right; maybe you had been showing off, but why bother with giving him the satisfaction and letting him know that it was the truth?

"What's your problem, Dixon? It isn't like I destroyed the damn thing," you scoffed.

He shot you a glare. "Problem is, ya don't think. Out there, one screw-up ain't jus' a scratch—it's the difference 'tween comin' back or not comin' back at all!"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please! Spare me the PSA! It isn't like I don't know how this shit works! We're all one wrong turn away from dead anyway! What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," he growled, "is ya don't get to pull that shit with my bike!"

His finger shot out, pointing toward the side of the motorcycle. "Look at this," he growled. "Ya see that?"

You glanced where he was pointing and shrugged. "What, a couple of scratches? Boo-fucking-hoo! Rub some dirt with your spit on it; it'll be fine!"

"Couple o' scratches?" His voice rose, and he bent down to run a hand along the damaged part. "Ya know how I worked on this, ain't that right? To get it runnin' smooth?"

He crouched, looking at the machine like he was inspecting a wounded animal. "Look."

"What?"

"Look," he snarled once more, pointing his finger at the gas tank.

Reluctantly, you stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. The scratches weren't as bad as you'd expected—some scuffed paint and a tiny dent, hardly catastrophic.

"Oh no," you pretended to be shocked and threw your hands up. "It's ruined! Better put it out of its misery!"

Daryl turned around, staring at you in disbelief and anger. "That funny to ya?"

"A little," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. "Newsflash, Dixon! This is a hunk of metal. It'll survive!"

His jaw clenched, and he stood up so fast you stumbled back. "Ain't the damn point," he snapped, stepping closer.

"Then what is the point?" You demanded in return.

"The point is," he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "ya don't listen. Yer always so goddamn dumb, thinkin' ya know better—"

"I do know better!" You interrupted him. "I could rebuild this bike with my eyes closed! Hell, I could build you a new one from… a scratch!"

Daryl's hands dropped to his sides, his breathing fast as he stared at you. His eyes looked down to your arms, and you followed his line of sight, realizing for the first time that you were trembling.

His eyes softened, just for a second. "Ya hurt?"

"No," you lied, crossing your arms to hide the shaking.

Daryl huffed, and his frustration was boiling over again. "Bullshit."

He moved toward you, closing the space between you as he grabbed you by the arm. You flinched but didn't pull away. His grip tightened, pulling you back toward the motorcycle you'd nearly wrecked.

"Get on," he growled, holding you still.

You froze, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Get on the fuckin' bike," he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

You shook your head. "You're out of your damn mind."

But you didn't fight it when he shoved you over to the seat, guiding you like you were weighing nothing at all. You hadn't expected this—his touch and his obvious anger.

But it wasn't just the crash. No. It was the way his eyes looked at you—like he was waiting for you to back down, to beg for mercy even.

"What?" You scoffed. "You're pissed 'cause I fucked up your bike? Is that it? So fucking ridiculous!"

"'S part of it," he answered, and before you could respond, his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

And you weren't sure what you expected from him, but you didn't expect the force of his lips on yours.

His kiss was aggressive. It wasn't tender. It wasn't gentle. It was all teeth and tongue and the feel of his stubble against your skin.

You tried to pull back, pushing at his chest. "What the hell—!"

"Shut the fuck up."

You barely had time to react before he was pushing you against the motorcycle, and his hands found their way under your shirt. It was almost too much to bear—the roughness of his touch. It had no place here, not with you two practically being strangers in this world, but somehow it made sense.

And no, you didn't pull away. Not now.

"Daryl—" You cut yourself off when his hand slid down to your waistband, tugging at your pants, a movement that was fast and urgent. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your throat.

He didn't respond, not in words anyway, as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs, forcing you to stay still.

He wanted you—had wanted you, maybe for longer than he'd ever care to admit.

You gasped again when he pulled your pants down roughly, his hands moving along your hips before dragging them down your legs. You knew his hands were capable—he could gut a deer in under a minute, rebuild a bike from scratch—but this? This was a whole different level of skill, and you weren't sure whether to be impressed or terrified by how quickly he had you undone.

But you didn't have time to process it before Daryl was standing again, his face dangerously close to yours, eyes burning with a fire that made you blush.

God, his eyes.

They weren't just looking at you—they were staring you down.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding down to your hips and pushing himself closer until there was no space between your bodies.

And then, his fingers slipped beneath your panties, and he slid two of them into you. Without warning.

You cried out at the suddenness of it, at the overwhelming feeling, but you didn't stop him.

"Still think I'm tremblin'?" He asked as he moved them inside you with a pace that made your head spin. You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

Sure, he was frustrated—but now it was all coming out, only in a way that you'd never expected. You didn't know what this was—what this would be afterward—but damn if it didn't feel like the only thing that mattered right now.

As his breath turned quicker against your neck, the urgency of his fingers quickened, too. Until he pulled them out of you. The moment he removed his hand, licking his fingers clean, you almost cursed aloud, the emptiness threatening to drive you mad.

He didn't give you time to say anything, didn't even let you think about it, because in the next moment, his hands were yanking your shirt up over your head, and your bra was gone just as fast.

But the way he studied you, every inch of you—like he was savoring the moment as if you were a piece of art he needed to drink in—made everything feel too much. Too much to take. Too much to bear. But also too good to stop.

You couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but let him have his way, and your eyes squeezed shut as you fought to hold it together.

Without a word, Daryl kneeled back down onto the ground again, his hands moving to your thighs, pushing them apart for him.

"Open yer eyes," he ordered, but you didn't. You just couldn't. But you could feel him there, right between your legs, and the anticipation was nearly killing you.

No, you couldn't do anything but obey as his hand was pulling your panties down and his other hand's thumb stroked across your clit, but something else caught his attention. A bruise on your thigh started to slowly form itself from when you'd crashed.

And then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips pressing hard against the bruise. His teeth bit into the skin, and then he sucked on it with a hunger that had nothing to do with the motorcycle and the crash.

You gasped loudly, eyes opening wide as the sharp sting of his bite was followed by the slow, deep suck of his mouth.

His lips left the bruise for a moment, but it wasn't gone long. His tongue licked over the edges of it, then his teeth, scraping some more, making your legs shiver with lust and a little bit of pain.

As his fingers moved toward and away from your wet pussy, to brush over the scratches on one leg from the crash, you could feel the pressure of his touch as he traced over each one. He didn't care about the discomfort it caused, didn't care about the marks—they were his to play with.

A growl left his throat as he scratched them a little harder, just a little deeper, making you whimper.

You didn't even realize you were staring at him until his blue eyes looked up into yours, a silent claim that went deeper than anything else.

"Ain't lettin' ya look away," he warned as his hands gripped your thighs again, forcing your trembling legs to stay open for him.

And God, they were.

His touch was everything you didn't know you needed as he slipped his fingers back into you—simply all-consuming. His thumb stroked your clit yet again, and you were sure you were going to lose it way too fast.

And the way he kept looking at you—like he was daring you to look away…

But you didn't. Not once.

The pressure was building, that sweet, unbearable pressure, until it felt like you were going to burst into flames.

Indeed, it was pure fire.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya look away."

His fingers found their rhythm, slow but deep, making you moan out loud, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and on him.

"Yeah, 's it," he growled. "Focus."

You nodded wildly, the feeling overtaking everything, your body desperate for more. Every bit of your skin was burning, and you hated how badly you needed this.

"Daryl… I," you gasped, your hands holding on for dear life on the motorcycle seat, trying to stay upright but close to losing the battle with every pump. "I can't—fuck!"

"Can't what? Focus? Ain't nothin' new," he answered, his thumb still on your clit while his fingers were thrusting away. "Can't handle it? Ya jus' gotta focus. Keep yer eyes on me."

You were close, so fucking close already, but he wasn't letting up.

His fingers moved so roughly inside of you, pressing against your G-spot, which soon made you feel certain this was it—this was the moment.

Your legs were shaking hard, your breath coming in quick, desperate moans. "Fuck… fuck…" You whimpered, fingers tightening on the seat behind you.

But then he stopped. Just stopped.

The sudden loss of his fingers was like being thrown into a room full of walkers. You groaned, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to go after what was just within reach, but he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you trembling and half-crazed.

"What the fuck, Daryl!" You cried out loud as you glared down at him, but Daryl only had the audacity to smirk, licking his fingers off once more like you hadn't been about to shatter into pieces.

"Keep still and shut up," he growled, and before you could scream at him, his head was between your legs.

Your words turned into a choked cry as his tongue moved over your clit, the feeling of his stubble against your inner thighs making you squirm.

It wasn't fair. You were already so close, your body trembling so hard it hurt, but now he was dragging it out, taking his sweet-ass time, licking and sucking like he had all damn day.

"Fuck—fucking hell, Daryl," you hissed, hands grabbing his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The vibrations shot straight through you, making your thighs clench around his head, but he didn't stop—he didn't even flinch.

"Thought ya were so good at takin' risks," he taunted, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke.

And with that, he sucked on it so hard you nearly screamed, the feeling of it being just on the edge of pain, but God, it was perfect. You were so damn close again, and this time, you needed it.

If he pulled away now, you swore you'd kill him.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips grinding against his mouth in a way that should've embarrassed you. "Daryl, fuck, don't you dare stop again—"

His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as his tongue pushed you further and further until there was nowhere left to go but over the edge.

But it wasn't just his mouth—oh no. His hands were keeping you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was claiming you, and maybe he was. You didn't care. You just wanted more.

"Fuck—Daryl, I'm—" Your voice broke, too far gone to even finish the sentence.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "What? Yer what?" His voice was rough and way too sarcastic for a man who was driving you insane.

"Stop it and finish me!" You snapped, your hands pulling at his hair like it would somehow speed him up.

He laughed—actually laughed—and that sound went straight through you. But before you could cuss him out for being an 'insufferable bastard,' his fingers were back on you, two sliding inside so easily you swore you saw stars.

Your breath hitched, and then he added a third.

"Fuck—holy shit!" You gasped, your thighs trembling as he stretched you wide. The feeling was nearly too much, but it was just right, and when his fingers started pumping in and out, so deep and hard, you couldn't do anything but ride it out.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes searching for yours. You wanted to look away, to hide from the way he was watching you like he was saving every second of this to memory, but you didn't. He wouldn't let you.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya fuckin' look away."

You didn't think you could blush any harder—you didn't think you had the energy left for it—but then his other hand moved, his thumb pressing into the bruise on your thigh, just hard enough to make you wince.

"Shit—Daryl, that hurts!" You hissed at him, but his grip tightened, keeping you still.

"Good," he growled, looking at you. "Should hurt."

His fingers inside your pussy were picking up speed, driving you mad with how good they felt.

"Ya think I'm jus' gonna let ya off easy after crashin' my bike?"

He pressed harder into the bruise, making you whimper from the pain that somehow only made everything hotter.

"Nah. Yer gonna feel this. Remember this."

You hated how much it turned you on—the sting of his thumb on your bruise along with the pumping of his fingers inside you and the way his mouth was so close to your clit again.

"Please—fuck—please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. You just needed something—anything—to finally push you over the edge.

"C'mon," he growled against you, not stopping. "C'mon, woman. Fuckin' let go. Let me fuckin' have it."

And that was it. That was all it took.

Everything inside you exploded so intensely you moaned out loud, your whole body arching as the orgasm ripped through you.

"Fuck—fuck, Daryl!"

You tried to keep your legs from giving out, but they were done, trembling so hard you had no choice but to lean fully against the motorcycle once more, trying to hold yourself steady. But Daryl didn't stop. His mouth stayed on you, his tongue again working your clit, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm until you were shaking all over, whimpering and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Only then did he pull his fingers out in a way that made sure you'd feel everything.

But before you could catch your breath, his hands were on you again, gripping your thighs like they belonged to him. Without a word, he hoisted your legs up, wrapping them around his neck. The sudden movement made you yelp, but he didn't care—not one bit.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Shut up," he growled, his voice ragged as he shifted you off the motorcycle and onto his shoulders like you weighed nothing. "Focus."

The cold floor hit your back as he lowered you down, your body shivering against it. He moved near you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide as he settled between them again, his face just inches from where you were still dripping for him.

You barely had time to process the new position before his tongue was back on you, licking slow and deep, making you moan aloud through the garage. All you could do was writhe and shake beneath him, your hands searching for anything to grab and hold onto—his hair, his shoulders, the cold floor—trying to keep still as he worked you over.

But then, just when you thought he'd keep going until you couldn't take anymore, he moved, his mouth leaving your pussy as he started to lick and kiss—hot, wet, and sloppy—all over you.

And he didn't move fast. He took his time, crawling up your body like he was deciding which part of you he should tease next. You felt his breath across your skin, so warm yet unsteady, while his hands worked on keeping you exactly where he wanted you—legs spread wide, no room to close yourself off, no room to argue.

His hands? Oh, you knew those hands could kill you if they wanted to, but the way he traced the edges of the scratches on your thigh? Fuck, it was worse. Slow. On purpose. Just enough pressure to remind you it was there. A reminder you didn't need, but apparently, he thought you needed.

The tip of his thumb ran over them once, twice, then pressed down harder. You flinched—it was pure instinct—but his other hand clamped down on your leg, pinning you to the floor. His thumb didn't move, didn't give you a break. If anything, he pressed harder, and you hissed through your teeth. He groaned, low and deep, like your slight discomfort was exactly what he wanted.

Daryl soon leaned down and kissed them. He kissed them like he was apologizing. Then his teeth grazed over the same scratches, and you realized he wasn't sorry for it at all. His tongue followed, licking slowly and wetly over the stinging feeling of them, and your back arched itself off the floor.

By the time he moved up to the bruise on your hips, his fingers found it first, pressing into your flesh like he was testing it, seeing how much it was hurting you. You flinched again, but this time, his response was immediate—a growl coming out of his throat as his fingers dug in deeper.

"Daryl," you started, but your voice cracked, and you knew that he wasn't listening anyway. His mouth replaced his fingers, and the first kiss of his lips made your head snap up.

Not soft, not tender—he sucked on the bruise as if he wanted to drag the pain out of you, to make you feel every sting of it.

He kept going, his mouth kissing up your ribs, licking, biting, sucking, finding every bruise that was forming itself, every scratch, and making sure you knew he'd found them.

"Fuckin' hell…" He whispered as his mouth moved higher, pressing kisses to your chest, in between your tits, before his tongue licked over one nipple.

You gasped as he sucked it into his mouth, one of his hands moving to tease the other, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

"Daryl, please! Please… just—"

He didn't let up. He crawled higher over you, his body pinning you down, his mouth moving up to your collarbone, where his tongue licked over it next.

By the time he reached your neck, you were a mess, your hands now clawing at his shoulders, desperate for him to give you more, to stop teasing. And he knew it.

But he wasn't done. His teeth found your neck, and he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, your thighs instantly squeezing around his hips.

"Goddamn," he growled as his mouth finally reached yours. "Look atcha… all wrecked."

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and hungry, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you.

And fuck, you didn't care.

Daryl left no room for argument—not that you had any strength left to argue.

His hands were everywhere at once, sliding over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved back down between your legs, slipping through the wetness he'd left behind when he dragged his fingers through your wet folds, and his smirk certainly showed that he was satisfied with himself.

He wasn't asking for permission, no, but he wasn't rushing either. And he was now giving you the chance to stop him without saying a word.

When you didn't push him away, he leaned back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes seemed darker now, his pupils all wide, searching for something, waiting.

Your hands slid up his strong back, trembling slightly but steadying themselves as they reached his shoulders. You gave him a small but quick nod as you took a shaky breath.

That was all he needed.

With a growl, Daryl's hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach fast but not harshly. Before you could even process it all, he pressed himself down against your ass.

"Don't move," he whispered.

You weren't planning to.

He grabbed your hips again, pulling you back just enough to hold them upward. You felt his cock pressing against your ass, still in his pants but unmistakably hard as he grunted and pushed it against you, his hands only holding on harder.

The deep and loud groan he made? You couldn't help but push back against him.

You barely had time to listen to the sound of his zipper before he was back, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing, the wetness of your pussy making it too easy for him to glide against you.

Your fingers were clawing at the floor as you tried to push back, but his hands held you in place.

His hips rocked forward, and the tip of his cock pressed into your pussy. You tensed, your breath stopping at the sheer size of it, but he didn't push in—not completely. He was letting you feel every inch of how big he was.

When he did push inside, it was enough to stretch you wide open, and with one slow thrust, he sank into you, filling you up. Still, Daryl didn't move right away. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, as he gave you a moment to adjust and made sure you were okay.

Then, he finally started to move.

Slow at first, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, each movement so controlled.

But it didn't take long for him to move faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

And you couldn't do anything but take it as he pinned you down.

"Daryl—" you moaned, but he cut you off with a growl, his arm sliding down around you, pulling your hips higher to give him better access.

"Don't talk," he ordered, trying not to lose himself. "Jus' take it."

And you did. God, you did.

The garage felt almost suffocating now, and all you could smell was the scent of sweat and sex. The only sounds to be heard were your fast-breathing moans of yourself and his feral grunts as Daryl moved behind you. Every thrust was deep, driving you forward just to pull you back again with a growl, his grip on your hips leaving marks you'd wear for days.

Your hands still searched for any kind of hold against the floor, trying to ground yourself as the intensity of it all threatened to break you apart. His cock stretched you in a way that still bordered on too much, each thrust rougher than the last, and yet you couldn't get enough of it—of him.

"Fuck," Daryl grunted, his voice sounding as if the word was being dragged out from deep inside him.

You couldn't respond to him, not with the way he filled you so completely, your body trembling under his control. But he didn't need any words in return from you. His hand slid from your hip, moving along your ass and up your spine, before he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Don't lose focus now," he growled, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His stubble grazed along your shoulder as he pressed his mouth down, his lips rough, almost punishing. He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into your skin just enough to leave another mark.

You cried out, clenching around him involuntarily. "Daryl—"

"Shut up," he said, cutting you off with another bite to your shoulder, this one softer than the last. His teeth were still on the mark he'd made, right before his tongue soothed it, leaving you shivering.

Daryl's pace quickened, each thrust making your overstimulated body shudder.

"Goddamn, look atcha," he grumbled, his voice full of lust. "Really fuckin' wrecked, ain't ya?"

You whimpered in response, your head falling forward and almost hitting the floor, but your body was still being held on tight by his grip.

"Ya like that?"

You nodded.

"C'mon," he growled, his hand tightening around your chest to keep you steady as his thrusts grew erratic. "Stay with me, woman. Focus. Fuckin' focus."

You didn't have a choice. His arm around your chest and his cock buried so deep inside you made it impossible to think about anything else. And the pressure was building again, unavoidable, and you knew he could feel it—the way your pussy clenched around him, desperate to feel him come, too.

And he didn't slow down. He didn't ease the pace or give you any room to breathe. Instead, he buried his face against you again, his lips sucking on your neck, his tongue following to taste the sweat of your skin.

"Shit," he hissed, his voice all muffled against your neck. "Goddamn, ya feel so fuckin' good."

His hips thrust forward, harder and faster, and you could feel him getting close, his movements losing their rhythm as his breathing turned ragged.

"Fuck—fuck," he groaned, his arm moving from your chest to hold your hip again, his hand grabbing you roughly as his thrusts went deeper. "Gonna—fuck, I'm—"

He didn't finish the sentence. With a loud groan that was almost sounding more animal than man, he pulled out, his hand gripping his cock as he came all over your back with force.

You stayed there momentarily, still on the cold floor of the garage, as you tried to piece yourself back together. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling so badly you weren't even sure they'd hold you if you tried to stand up.

Daryl soon moved off behind you, his heavy breathing just as loud and uneven as yours as he leaned against the motorcycle for balance. His cum was feeling all warm across your back, but you didn't have the energy to care—not yet.

Finally, he straightened himself, pulling his pants back up and putting his softening cock away. You heard the sound of his footsteps next to you as he walked around the garage, and for a second, you thought he was going to leave you there, fucked and half-naked in the garage.

But not long after, he was back, something soft and slightly damp rubbing over your skin.

"Hold still," he grunted. "Gotta clean ya up."

You flinched, moving your head to see what he was doing. Daryl had an old, torn rag in one hand, smudged with a little bit of dry oil, but it was enough to do the job. His other hand pressed against your shoulder, holding you still as he wiped away the mess of his cum he'd left behind.

"You could've at least grabbed a clean one," you grumbled, but there wasn't any real annoyance in your voice.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside. "Yer alright?"

You smirked, despite the ache in your legs. "What, worried I might've cracked under all that control?"

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he just grunted before crouching in front of you. His hands found your arms as he helped you up, his strength the only thing keeping you from falling right back to the floor.

"Easy," he mumbled, sliding one arm around your waist to steady you. "Ain't wantin' to pick yer ass up again if ya fall."

"Not my fault," you answered, your legs wobbling as you tried to find your balance. "You're the one who—"

"Don't even start," he cut you off quickly, but definitely with amusement. "Ya got no one to blame but yer damn self."

His arm stayed around you as you took a few shaky steps with him by your side as if you had to learn how to walk again, your knees still threatening to buckle. You hated how he looked at you right now, showing you a smirk as he watched you struggle.

"Shut up," you grumbled, leaning against him more than you wanted to admit.

"Ain't said nothin'," he smirked, but the way his hand tightened on your waist betrayed his satisfaction.

Once you were steady enough to stand on your own, he let go, his hands falling to his sides. As you reached for your clothes, putting them on with clumsy, trembling fingers, Daryl leaned against the motorcycle again, watching you with that same gaze he'd had earlier, his blue eyes tracking every movement of your body.

"So? Ya still reckless?" He suddenly asked, as if to taunt you.

You glared at him as you put on your bra and shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Crashin' my bike," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then gettin' all riled up when ya can't handle shit."

Feeling your cheeks turn red, the heat was spreading all over your face as you turned to zip up your pants. "Maybe if you weren't such a goddamn caveman, my attention would've—"

"Caveman, huh?" Daryl stepped closer, the space closing between you until you could feel the presence of him behind your back. One hand came up, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your thigh from earlier, the touch rather gentle.

"Caveman kept ya focused now, didn't he?" He continued, his lips all close near your ear. "Got yer attention real good."

You hated how easily your body responded to him even now, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Next time," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "ya might think twice 'bout tryin' to show off."

His fingers then pressed into the bruise just enough to make you wince, reminding you of the lesson he'd drilled into you—literally.

"Control," he said, stepping back again. "Might save yer damn ass next time."

You turned to face the motorcycle with a scowl as you adjusted your clothes, looking around for your jacket. "Are you done lecturing me, or should I grab a notepad?"

"Nah. Jus' get yer shit together," he answered. "We're headin' out again tomorrow. Yer ridin' bitch till ya prove ya can handle it."

Laughing at that, your words were coming out faster than your still-wobbly legs could even move. "Riding bitch, huh?" You repeated as you turned to face him. "Next time you're teaching me to drive, I'll be riding something, alright—but it sure as shit won't be the bike."

It was a bold answer, considering your legs still felt like they'd been switched for spaghetti, but you weren't about to let him see you back down.

Daryl's lips twitched, that small smirk coming back as he closed the distance between you in a few quick movements. One hand shot out, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Keep talkin'," he grumbled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "See where it gets ya."

You grinned, biting his thumb just enough to make him hiss. "I think it gets me exactly where I want to be," you responded, voice all daring, even as your pulse kicked up a notch all over. "Don't you think?"

Daryl's silence was answer enough, and for a moment, you thought he might snap again, dragging you into another round right there on the spot. But for now, and for once, you decided to savor and enjoy your little victory. Of course, it didn't last long.

You weren't sure who moved first, but before you knew it, you were pulling him down by his collar, your lips crashing onto his like they had something to prove.

The kiss was all grunts and stubbornness, his teeth biting at your lip as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. You didn't even notice when his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies.

"Y'ain't got any sense o' self-control," he mumbled against your mouth, but he didn't stop kissing you, one hand sliding up to grab the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, smirking up at him. "And you've got too much of it," you shot back.

You knew this would've gone on longer—should've gone on longer—but the sound of the side door from the garage to the house opening stopped you both in place like a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Daryl?" Aaron's voice was to be heard, and you felt the blood freeze in your veins. "Are you both back already?"

Daryl let out a growl, his forehead slowly dropping to yours like he was trying to collect himself before turning to look toward the unwanted interruption.

Aaron stood in the doorway, his eyes looking between the two of you, taking in the sheer awkwardness of it all. His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked like he was trying to reset his brain back to factory settings.

"Oh…" Aaron said after a moment, his voice sounding a little bit higher than usual. "I just—uh—saw the garage door was closed from the outside when I came back. Thought you were done with, uh, teaching? I just wanted to get—"

Daryl cleared his throat, stepping back from you but not bothering to hide his irritation. "'M still teachin'."

Aaron's mouth opened like he was about to ask something else, but you jumped in before he could make things even worse. "Yeah, exactly," you said, smiling at him before you looked back at Daryl. "He's teachin' me how to… focus."

The words had barely left your mouth before Daryl shot you a look. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "And 'bout… control."

Aaron stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in urgent need of water. Finally, he managed to let out a quiet, "Still teaching, huh?" His voice was full of disbelief. "About control and focus?"

You crossed your arms, smirking. "Of course! And let me tell you, Daryl's got a real hands-on approach." Daryl gave you a warning look, but you ignored him. "Next time, maybe we'll move on to, I dunno, accelerating!"

"Yeah," Daryl answered flatly, his tone as casual as if Aaron had walked in on him fixing the motorcycle, not having had you taken against it. "Focusin' on the road ahead. Controllin' the bike while… ridin' it."

Aaron arched only one eyebrow this time. "Right," he said, dragging the word out like it was hurting him. "Well, maybe teach her outside of Alexandria next time instead of Eric's and my garage?"

You snorted. "Oh, we can, for sure. But Daryl's really good at teaching me how to focus on what's in front of me," you said sweetly. "It's the control part I keep getting stuck on."

Aaron let out a short, strangled laugh, already backing toward the door. "Yeah, okay! Don't let me interrupt your lesson." His face went red, and he backed up so fast he nearly tripped. "I mean, it sounds, uh... productive. I'll just—yeah." He gestured around awkwardly as he was about to hurry back inside the house.

When he left, you could've sworn he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, "What the hell is wrong with all these people?" before he closed the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, you leaned against the workbench, your eyes moving to the motorcycle that had started this whole situation, after all. It stood there innocently enough, like it hadn't been witness to your absolute lack of keeping control. Stepping forward, you traced your fingers along one of the scratches on its gas tank.

"Looks like Frankenstein's bike's seen some rough handling, thanks to me," you said before your eyes moved back onto Daryl, who was watching you like an animal sizing up its next meal. "Guess it'll get used to bein' ridden hard."

Eyes looking up, you were daring him to take the bait. "Think you'll leave some scratches on me next time?"

His muscles were flexing like he was seconds from pulling you back to him. "Keep talkin', woman, and I jus' might."

You grinned, stepping away from the motorcycle and grabbing your jacket, which was on the floor near the workbench. "Guess I'll just have to wait and see, huh?" You put the jacket on, taking your time on purpose to let him stew in his frustration.

Just as you reached the garage door and opened it, you turned back toward Daryl, who'd started to talk, watching you lean your shoulder against the frame. "Yer walkin' funny, woman."

You stopped, moving your head up with a glare. "If I walk funny, I'm tellin' everyone it's 'cause of the bike." You made sure to add a smirk. "I'm going to say it was a wild ride—not a crash."

As you pushed yourself off the frame and stepped outside onto the streets of Alexandria, your grin was as wide as ever. "Thank you for the thorough lesson, Dixon."

But before the garage could even close behind you, something soft and slightly damp was flying past your head, landing on the ground in front of you.

"Jesus, was that—?" You started to laugh, realizing exactly what he'd thrown after you. "Oh, come on! Did you seriously throw that at me? Gross!"

Daryl leaned against the motorcycle, his smirk not obvious, but it was there. "Missed, didn't I?" He didn't flinch, didn't apologize. "Didn't miss on purpose."

"That's disgusting," you called back and laughed, unable to help yourself. "And I'm not picking that up!"

"Didn't ask ya to," he answered, pushing himself off the machine and taking a few steps closer to the street. "But yer might come back in here 'n pick up somethin' else."

"Not a chance," you snorted, shaking your head while you stumbled a little bit. "Better luck next time. Or… tomorrow."

"Fuckin' reckless…" Daryl growled, but with amusement in his voice as he watched you disappear ever so slowly. But he didn't move, not yet. "Jus' get yer damn ass back here!"

You were already down the street and smirking to yourself as you tried to walk and just waved him off, making it clear that it was all for show as you held up both middle fingers, trying to make it seem like you were stumbling away with your body intact.

And, of course, you were—kind of.

Either way, Daryl knew that next time, the only thing you'd be riding was him, and you'd make sure he would be the one struggling to keep focus and control.

[revelboo]

HELLO I was the anon who got a random blockee and was hoping for the soundwave figures and while I didn't get him I got Scavenger and he has my whole heart 😭😭😭 he's my lil booboo 🥰🥰 (I will be ordering soundwave tho and more I'm doomed)

He’s lonely. He needs friends 😃 Scrapper finally showed up after his tracking stopped updating Dec 31st and he disappeared off the face of the Earth. Two more to go.

Drive Pt 4

Constructicons x Reader

• “Thank you?” Part of you wants to ask if they’d hurt anyone stealing this stuff for you, but honestly? You’re scared to. Because it looks like Long Haul and Bonecrusher probably went on a crime spree. And Bonecrusher just keeps producing stuff out of nowhere to add to the pile. Food, clothes, small electronics, soaps and candles. Maybe they’d just demolished a mall? They mean well and they’re trying to take care of you, but you really hope they didn’t hurt anyone. Even as a guilty part of you is ridiculously excited about the food and soap.

• Bending, Long Haul begins setting your new things in the mini habsuite they’d made you. Noting that Scrapper and Scavenger had been busy while he’d been out and had tapped into the base water lines to make you a tiny wash rack and waste disposal area. Your little habitat now even bigger as they all keep adding to it. “You needed food and human stuff,” Long Haul mutters, embarrassed when you offer him a small smile. And it’s not like he’d minded. Getting to really let loose and destroy things had felt good. Freezing when you limp closer and lay a soft hand on his ped, he hesitantly brushes a servo over your head before turning away. “It’s either feed you or watch you die,” he adds gruffly, uncomfortable with your affection.

• Venting as you smile up at Long Haul, Bonecrusher reaches to gently scoop you up. Feeling little hands on his servos as he carries you over to his berth and lays back carefully rubbing your jaw. So small you feel insubstantial in his hands, and something about that fragility fascinates him. “You missed us?” He asks, stilling as you grab his servo and smile up at him like you’re not the least bit frightened. That trust shocking him. How can you be so small and not cower?

• Watching Long Haul pimping out your alien, Barbie dream house, you wrap your arms around Bonecrusher’s servo to keep him from petting from neck to navel and further south. It’s not like he knows better or means anything by it, but putting a stop to it as quickly as possible seems a smart move. “It was quiet,” you say opting for honesty. Because the six of them are constantly laughing and jostling each other. Loud and raucous in a way that reminds you of a frat house. Complete with the alcohol, or high grade as they’d called it. After realizing you’re safe as long as you play along at being their collective pet, you’d started consciously trying to make friends. After all, your survival depends on them.

• “Must have been boring,” Long Haul calls from the floor as he arranges boxes of food stuffs in a tidy pile in a corner. You’ll need storage space so this stuff isn’t just lying around. “I’m thinking cabinets and shelves,” he adds, looking at where Mixmaster and Hook are working on reports. Waiting for Mixmaster to vent at him, but set aside his report to help.

• Glancing at his brothers fussing with your space again, Hook checks on you and Bonecrusher. Making sure the much bigger mech isn’t being too rough with you, but so far he’s been shockingly gentle. And right now the huge mech is making a grumbling purr of his engines at you. Something he’d call out anyone else for. Getting punched in the face by Bonecrusher not exactly on his to do list, though, because his brothers definitely don’t warrant the same gentleness you do.

Previous

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING! LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING!!

*grabs your shirt and pulls you close*

DC/Batfamily x Witwicky! Reader x Transformers (Completely Platonic only)

where reader gets sent to Gotham when they're still a baby for their safety as a last resort (which is fckn crazy like cuz pick which one is worse Joker or Megatron) by their Witwicky relatives because of Optimus orders so they can distract the decepticons first and find them again when it's safe (Sam may or may not exist in this au).

First origin After that Reader grew up in an orphanage but became a prodigy because of their high IQ and fascinating inventions due to inheriting their -unknowingly- great great grandfather Archibald Amundsen Witwicky's intelligence (idk im just winging this) then becoming the youngest engineer/mechanic in the gotham (world idk) that caught the attention of Batman when they accidentally hacked the batcomputer something they kind of jokingly bet to their professor so they don't have to do their thesis but was peer pressured in the end.

Batcomputer : *Starts glitching*

Batfam: *slightly tensed but wants to figure out who's the insane dummy that tries to hack THE Batcomputer*

Screen:

Reader: Heeeeeyyyyy it's meeeeee a hard working college student that needs proof that I actually hacked your computer, so Imma just take a lil pic and we'll just go back to our regular programming okie? Okay! *takes a selfie with the whole ass batfamily in their screen*

Reader: Thanks Batman! keep up the good work now to destroy evidence of the crime scene (still on the screen) *Shuts their laptop and proceeds to throw it out the window after*

*Gets adopted by Bruce Wayne anyway because a 13 year old kid in college needs money -preferably in cash- support and a Billionaire with the history of adopting wacky kids wants them for funsies*

Reader : *sits in the batcave with the hacking video on repeat in the batcomputer, surrounded and outnumbered by the batfam* Fuuuucccckkkk

Or 2nd you were sent instead by Edmund Burton, Alfred was the best option to protect and take care of the last descendant of Merlin and youngest member of the Order of Witwiccans, you grew up under Bruce Wayne but used the last name Pennyworth as a disguise to hide your true lineage, you still end up becoming a prodigy and the sort of mechanic of the family (you literally 80-90% engineered and build the Batmobile and most of Batman's gadgets) you didn't end up becoming a vigilante/hero because you stive to be the normal one or The civilian member in the family, You're either a nephew/niece to Bruce or the living in Cousin to the kids, you bet your ass you're either partner in crimes with Tim/Barbara or you kept -humbly- beating their asses over being the smart ass in the family.

Tim: *Best at hacking, Tech and gadgetry, the more smart robin and on the line to become the Wayne inc CEO* I'm not bragging or anything.

(All robins are smart he's just abit on top)

Reader: *looks at their name in all of the blueprints of gadgets, weapons, suits, transportations, the batcomputer, the batmobile, the watchtower, the JL headquarters security/bldg and the upgraded batcave system* That's great Timmy! you really are the smartest! *side eye the stacked up and approved projects for Gotham Structural proposals as well as the contract papers for the new in line brand of Tech you're making and quickly hiding the shiny nameplate 'CEO of the most famous electronics brand' with your name engraved on it*

It can also be x Neglected Reader as well where any of the 2 is your origin but you barely get noticed by your family other than your inventions and because you really don't like being into the family business due to not having the physical advantage of literally punching someone in the face without breaking your hands first.

so you just exist and try to finish college and live away to find your other family/ Find Edmund or just travel the world.

Origins aside

The reason why you are so important is the location of the all spark that was supposed to be imprinted to Archie's glasses was transferred to his brain instead become wired inside and somehow passed down to you that's why Optimus needed you safe until they can send the Decepticons away and find you.

I can imagine it going down like this

The world was under a new threat either by Megatron, the decepticons, Unicorn or even The Quintessons no one yet knows other than J'onn J'onzz /Martian Manhunter and Hal or the whole Green Lantern Corps who were close or worked with the Autobots before were alerted by them to ask for help.

Optimus and the rest of the growing Autobots that were left in the planet as well as Edmund met up with the Justice League to have a discussion about the new threat and was surprised that they only need someone instead.

Batman: Why do you specifically need this someone?

Edmund: I have sent orders to the Witwicky family to send their child here in your city for their safety due to the facts they have the location of the all spark also being the last and youngest member of the Order of Witwiccans.

Zatanna: Wait The Witwiccans? the one Merlin founded?

Edmund: Precisely my dear but should also add that they are the last living descendant of Merlin

Constantine who drops his lit cigarette: Fuckin hell and here I thought that man died a virgin HA!

Superman: And what is the all spark?

Optimus Prime: The All spark is a very powerful and ancient artifact from our old planet Cybertron, it has been documented by our people that it has the essence of our creator Primus himself.

Justice League looks more concerned:

Batman: And what danger does it bring to earth?

Optimus and the rest file them in about the years of war between the Autobots and decepticons, the destruction of Cybertron, they're arrival to Earth and explaining why the All Spark must never land in the hands of someone like Megatron or anything one with evil intentions.

Superman: Then as a fellow Alien that has took refuge and promise to protect Earth, We will help you but you must promise not to endanger the life of this Witwicky kid.

Batman: Now the only problem we need to solve is their whereabouts.

Edmund: Oh don't bother with that I had Hot Rod and Bumblebee fetch them earlier this morning.

Cue in a racing expensive red Lamborghini and yellow Chevrolet Camaro before transforming in the air and lands with You in Bumblebee's hand.

Reader: Hi! I don't know what's happening I didn't do it if you think I'm the suspect, I won't tell you anything till I get my lawyer.

The rest are in shock to see tiny you while Edmund greets you and distracts you from the rest.

The batfam and the rest of the league looks at Batman for an explanation

The younger heroes and sidekicks are amaze when they got a proper introduction from who you are.

Not Neglected Reader part:

Batfam are more proud about you but a bit worried because of the large problem you now have to carry on your shoulders but is happy you got tons of literal giant robot aliens to protect you along with the other heroes.

Neglected Reader part:

Batfam are shock to know the real you and what amazing things you've been hiding from your family, not only are you this legendary person that can locate and has the power to use a life giving artifact you've also been hiding your true self from them as they watch you interact with the Autobots and how you become comfortable and be expressive to them, you might be small and just a kid to their eyes but to the Autobots it's like you're their world.

----

THAT'S ALL I GOT FOLKS!

Tell me if ya like it I might make this after I finish or laid down NMC! this doesn't have to be Yandere btw

[xxmooxmooxx]

irritable. ~ s.r. x fem reader.

MDNI 18+ ONLY

- told from spencer’s pov

prompt: Spencer accidentally sees y/n secret nsfw twt account and is struggling dealing with working along side her now.

warnings: angry Spence, nsfwtwt, mentions of sex, sex toys, perv! Spencer if you squint your eyes, age gap, lmk if im missing anything :)

a/n: BLURB! not a v long story. my first Spencer fic AND my first time writing smut. NOW reader and Spencer don’t hookup in this but it’s talked about quite a bit so proceed with caution loves. gimme feed back pls!!!! Lmk if you’d want a pt 2!!!

“i can't fucking do this, y/n. We have a lot of work left to do on this case.” I say getting out of my seat and walking towards the office door. It’s just too much right now. We’ve gotten nowhere close to finding this god awful unsub. Then here is y/n smelling like cocoanut and vanilla. Looking at me… no searching my eyes for answers I don’t have. And her hair? God. It’s down. Unlike most days where she wears it pulled back.

“Spencer! What the fuck? You told me if i needed to confied or talk to someone to go to you? If thats no longer okay then just tell me. You don’t have to talk to me like this.” She says getting out of their chair and stepping in my path to the door.

Shes right. I am being a complete an total ass right now. It’s not her fault. When she started last year I did tell her to come to me and she has taken me up on that offer lots of times and I've never minded it. I don't mind it. At Least I didn’t before… I look down defeated and sigh before looking at her. “You’re right. I apologize. Please, excuse me.” I take a step to the door.

“Reid…” She grabbed my arm looking up at me. “Please. What’s going on?”

I jerked off and came multiple times to your secret twitter account, y/n. I have your body engraved into my brain. I know exactly what i’d have to do, where to touch, how to touch, where to lick and suck now from watching the videos of you playing with yourself. I cant look at you let alone work with you, without wanting to take you into an empty office and showing you all the many things about your perfect fucking body I have learned and memorize. God even now during this stressful case all I can think of is fucking you so hard over this table that you cant remember what you came in here to ask for in the first place. But I can’t say that.

“I’m… fine. Okay? Many daily things in our lives especially in this field can cause irritability, for example: we’ve been on this case for 48 hours, we’ve gotten nowhere close to a profile, no idea how to stop this unsub, exactly how many victims he has so far, which means there's gonna be more innocent people dying. So, if I'm irritable that may be the reason. Now if you excuse me i need to go look the files we found on Amy Cassandra and Olivia Hidmen.” And with that, she let me go and I made my way out.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long week we are finally back home. I avoided y/n as much as I could which is the only way to deal with this until I can figure out how to move on. Then of course… once we get home going out to “split” the teams favorite local bar was suggested. We all agreed to meet up in an hour, giving ourselves time to go home and get ready.

I was sitting at our usual table with Derek and Emily when y/n walked in talking with Hotch. Fuck. me. She was wearing a short, silk, black dress that was hugging her body perfectly. Her hair was down framing her face perfectly and she was wearing her glasses. Last time i saw her glasses, they were on her bed side table in the background of the video she posted, showing off her new toys a sex toy company sent her. My thoughts are interrupted by her looking at me. I can't. I turn to Emily and Derek asking to be excused before walking past y/n and out the bars glass doors.

She’s your coworker, spencer. Not only is she a coworker, shes damn near 10 years younger than you, sees you as a mentor, and trusts you. What the fuck have I done.

“Reid!” i hear yelled from behind me.

No no no no… I turn to see her jogging towards me.

“y/n please go back inside.”

“No.”

“y/n…”

“Spencer, please stop.”

“No. y/n. You. please stop. Leave me alone and go back inside with the others…” I turn to walk away. After a few paces I hear:

“I saw.”

I pause in my tracks. Looking down at my feet. I’m fucked. I take a deep breath before turning and walking back to her. “You saw what?” I say looking down at her. My voice coming out deeper than intended.

“You liking and unliking one of my post on twitter.” She says softly and almost unsure.

I dont break eye contact. I’m frozen. What am i suppose to say to that?

“Spencer, please don’t tell anyone. I’m-”

I shake my head. “I wasn’t planning on talking to anyone about this.”

“Oh… okay…” A few more moments of silence. “I’m really really fucking sorry you saw that, no one i know in person was ever meant to see it. I just do it for fun and…”

‘I cant be having this conversation right now.’ i think to myself as she continues to ramble. “y/n. Stop.”

“... i know youre probably mortified…” she continues.

“Stop.”

“... I just dont wanna lose you-”

“y/n!’ I say louder than intended as i grab her shoulders trying to get her to listen to me. Shes staring wide eyed at me, silent. I losen my grip and lead her to a near by empty stairwell. I let her go and brush her hair off her shoulders and try to straighten the straps of her dress that was underneath my hands.

“Now…” i start calmly. I see her relax more and start looking at me with curiosity. “y/n, you have no reason to be apologoizing to me. You-” i stop myself to think before i let more rambling come out of my mouth. “I should be the one apologizing to you.” I say taking a step back attempting to give her some space.

“For what?” She asked genuinely.

“For invading your privacy. I saw your account and I was intrigued then after a few moments of analizing i realized it was you. I shouldve clicked away immediately but I didn’t, I kept scrolling and looking and I’m so sorry, y/n. You’re an amazing person, agent, and friend and I’m someone you trusted and i-”

“Did you like them?” she asked bluntly looking up at me.

Spencer. Stop. you cannot entertain this.

“Yes.” I answered searching her eyes for any signs of regret or disgust.

None to be found.

She takes a step closer to me making our hight difference extremely noticeable. “Spencer,” she started softly. The sound of my name on her lips going straight to my cock. “Did you touch yourself to me?”

“I did.”

She searches my face almost the same way i did hers moments ago before she yanks me into her by my tie our lips meeting and her pulling away before I could even register what happened. I look at her as if asking if she's sure she wants this before we quickly grab each other crashing our lips together again. Our bodies moving together and our mouths hungry.

“Fuck, I need you closer.” I moan into our kiss before softly pushing her against the wall of the stairwell. My hands roaming her body until they find their way to her beautiful thighs. I yank one of her legs up by her knee taking the opportunity to get my body closer to her. I can feel her hot core against my aching cock. My hands now resting on her ass and I leave kisses along her neck.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you to touch me like this for so long, Spencer.” She moans softly into my hair.

“Is that so?” I ask, looking up at her as I slowly drop down to my knees.

“Oh my god.” She whispers as she realizes my intentions for getting down here.

‘She’s definitely gonna believe in a god when i'm done with her.’ I think to myself as I start leaving kisses along her thighs.

“Y/n??”

We jump at Penelope’s voice we hear from around the corner. FUCK.

I immediately get back up and look at her attempting to straighten her dress and hair up. “We’re just having a conversation. Okay?” I whisper to her searching her eyes trying to keep her calm

“Okay.” She whispers back.

I nod as I take a seat on the steps crossing my arms over my knees in an attempt to hide my boner from Penelope.

“Oh my god! There you two are!” Penelope said relieved once she saw us. “Is everything okay with my two favorite nerds?”

“Yeah, just kinda debriefing the past week. It was a lot for me.” Y/n spoke up.

“Awwww okay pumpkin. If you need to take time to yourself it’s okay, everyone would understand.” She said as she pulled y/n into a hug.

“Yeah that’s probably what i'm gonna do. I need to decompress.” Y/n says in response, hugging our friend back.

“Okay baby cakes.” Garcia responded by pulling away. “What about you, my handsome wonder boy? You okay?”

“Yeah i'm good. Just got a bit overwhelmed. I’ll probably head home as well.” I say in response looking up at her from my seat on the stairs.

“Okay then my loves. I’ll go let them know.” She says as she starts to back up. “Reid, be a gentleman and make sure our sweet y/n gets home safe.” She turns and sends a winks to y/n before turning and making her way back to the bar.

“You um… maybe wanna come over and talk about everything?” I ask looking back to the beautiful woman I had in my arms moments ago.

“I would like that.”

[raintemper]

More of them,, but they’re robot cats this time lol… I’ll draw Moon and Pebbles soon, and some others maybe

I’ll do anything but actually draw them as Iterators apparently

Don't look too close, Ive never drawn such mech heavy designs until now...I don't know what I'm doing. I got a little more confident with NSH but I was absolutely just going blind with Suns. It took me 2 days to figure out how I wanted to start with Suns...

Some background info dump of them for this? Au??? Idk yet lol, under the line if interested

Erhm. Set in a post apocalyptic world, much like how Rain World actually is. Alternative timeline where iterators don't exist?? Failed??? The ancients have not yet ascended?? Maybe??? Idk the details are still blurry to me also 😞. They are in a high security lab facility ground type setting. (Perhaps just an excuse for me to draw apocalyptic higher tech designs????) It is cold outside, some failed iterator structures still produce rain, and occasionally the air may become toxic.

Suns is an offensive/surveillance model meant for fighting and protecting as one can probably tell with his tail blades. It folds back in an attempt to make it less dangerous and also functions as a way to swiftly cut into something if needed. They are the only one of them (excluding Pebbles for special reasons) to be equipped with a mouth hiding sharp teeth and/or lasers for even more attack prowess. They are also still huge. Sorry I run with the huge Suns agenda. He is a tower. Easily wrestles most lizards. I still like the idea of fluffy Suns, so he still has it as a robot cat. Some insulation for the colder outside temperatures, he's outside a lot. Suns is not built to be friendly. Mostly acts and behaves as an unassuming robot early on.

Moon and Suns were the first properly functional/successful projects. They were edited and reconstructed a lot from beginning to now. Maybe they were both originally purposed as therapeutic companions.

The overseers are little drones that fly around. They still project things and are still sometimes unhelpful with directions, follow at your own discretion. The lizards and predators mostly ignore them as well. They do recognize the different drones with time. They've learned to recognize NSH's drones, which sometimes might contain some edible collected material, so they do occasionally try to eat those. And most of the smaller predators try to leave the area if they see Suns' drones.

NSH is closer to a pet model. He is made for reconnaissance and scouting. He is still tiny because I like him tiny, he's adorable. NSH has three pairs of legs for rough terrain traversal, and is a fast little guy. He helps in collecting samples and materials from the outside, marking maps, as well as finding viable safe spots/shelters. He has no mouth but has a component in his chest where he can collect small samples, as well as storage units in his drones to store excess. He has small vials of decontaminate fluid to clean any samples he collects, they have to be refilled occasionally. Also, as mentioned in the art, he can open his neck and chest area and just swallow bigger samples. He can even keep them alive inside him if he wants to. Otherwise, they're killed and turned into power for him to use. Sometimes he finds lizards with cool patterns and tries to swallow them to show Suns, who oftentimes will kill it afterwards.

He was the experimental project for emotive programming alongside Unparalleled Innocence/UI, hence his fully functioning screen as a face. As opposed to Suns, who functions more as a security camera. I think NSH and UI are both similar in the more playful/chaotic personalities, so I decided for them to be created around the same time and put into the same testing. Overtime, UI did not respond very well and was repurposed (She's not gone). Emotive sentience was programmed into NSH first and then tested on Moon. It was generally successful in both cases. NSH really enjoys messing around and can even imitate his fellow iterators faces. It works really well temporarily scaring predators using Suns' color markings lol.

Because NSH and Suns are both outside often, they have solar panel components in their design for extra power. The two of them are very close because of their shared experiences. NSH likes the outside more, Suns has little opinions of it. They worry about NSH because he's so small and curious and occasionally brings back dangerous things.

Suns is a little bit of an outcast here because of his difference in role. He is mostly left to roam and function on his own/not approached as he carries his role. The others are research focused and Suns is more obviously purposed for battle, so there is a little bit of a divide. Not to mention, he technically does not have the programming for emotions that Moon and NSH have. Suns does learn on his own though :D, some of it is learned from NSH too

I will leave it here for now. I will probably talk more about Moon and Pebbles for their own post. And the others as well. I'm still thinking about their designs though.

Erhm hopefully this makes sense somewhat and was at least a fun read.

[callmemonster68]

JAKE - God of Death ( smut )

An immortal reaper who, upon falling in love with a soul destined to depart, discovers a new perspective on life and death. The presence of this special person illuminates his dark world and awakens a lust he never imagined feeling.

Pairing: Jake, a deity X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands

Note: I'm recently starting to write, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve my writing. Feedback is always welcome!

On a tranquil night, under the moonlight, a field stretches out in silence, where life and death subtly connect. It is in this setting that an unexpected encounter takes place between Y/N, a submissive mortal, and Jake, the God of Death. This moment transcends fear and uncertainty, intertwining curiosity and courage in an intense and provocative conversation about life, death, and the mysteries that await us beyond.

It is an irresistible invitation to explore the deepest desires and hidden passions, as they surrender to the pleasures of what it truly means to live and love. Every whispered word becomes a touch, every glance an invitation to dive into the depths of pleasure and connection, revealing the secrets that make us shiver and draw us closer to ecstasy.

Jake: "You know you were destined to meet me, don’t you?"

Y/N: "Perhaps. But I’m not afraid of you. Death is just a part of life."

Jake (moving closer): "You’re different. Most fear what I represent. But you… you bring a light I’ve never known."

Y/N: "And you bring a mystery that fascinates me. What happens if I don’t leave?"

Jake: "Then, perhaps I can show you what it means to live intensely, even with death always lurking, like a forbidden desire."

Y/N: "What if I want to feel that intensity with you? Right now, while I still have time, to lose ourselves in one another."

Jake: "Then let’s savor every moment, every touch, every breath. Life is precious, even if brief, and I want you to feel that by my side."

Y/N: "Then, teach me to live, God of Death."

Jake: "What if I showed you that death isn’t the end, but merely a new form of existence?"

Y/N: "Do as you will; I am in your hands, God of Death."

The words carried such force and intensity that the atmosphere grew heavy. Y/N felt insecure yet drawn to the enigmatic God of Death. Her eyes were enslaved by the beauty and power he exuded. Without further hesitation, Jake also felt a connection with the mortal, and he couldn’t resist his overwhelming desire to satisfy himself with her.

In the dimly lit room, Jake and Y/N faced each other. Jake’s heart raced as he watched Y/N’s body tremble with anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

Jake: "Let’s begin, Y/N."

Y/N’s eyes widened. She knew what was coming. Jake gestured for her to kneel before him, and she obeyed, lowering herself to the floor. Jake’s hand traced the length of Y/N’s body, stopping at her waist. He lifted her and guided her to the bed.

Jake: "Take off your clothes."

Y/N undressed, revealing her flawless figure. Jake’s eyes widened as he admired her beauty.

Jake: "Lie down on the bed."

Y/N lay on the bed, her body exposed to Jake’s gaze. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for what was to come.

Jake stood beside her, his eyes fixed on Y/N’s. He smiled, savoring her submission. Y/N opened her eyes, meeting Jake’s gaze.

Jake: "I want you to remember every detail of this moment."

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. Jake picked up a whip from beside the bed, and Y/N shuddered with anticipation. Jake caressed Y/N’s body, running the whip over her skin. He watched as Y/N’s body writhed with pleasure.

Jake began to whip her, the sound echoing through the room. Y/N’s body twisted, and she let out a series of moans.

Jake: "You’re mine, Y/N! You’re my submissive, and you will do everything I say."

Y/N’s eyes widened in ecstasy. She felt herself being carried away by the intensity of the moment. After minutes of being whipped and praised by Jake, Y/N, unable to wait any longer, begged.

Y/N: "Please, I beg you, I need to feel you inside me."

Jake: "How adorable, so desperate for my cock. How could I say no to someone as eager as you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Jake set the whip aside and grabbed handcuffs from the drawer beside the bed. He secured Y/N’s hands behind her and positioned her on all fours.

A sharp smack and a surprised cry of pain escaped Y/N. Another smack, and the obscene sounds of Y/N’s mix of pain and pleasure echoed in the room. Without warning, Jake thrust his large, thick cock into Y/N’s wet pussy, eliciting a scream. The blend of sensations—pain and burning mixed with overwhelming pleasure—left her increasingly mindless.

Jake’s movements grew more violent, and Y/N’s moans became more intense. She felt herself being pushed to the edge of pleasure and pain, and she loved every moment of it.

With teary eyes, Y/N reached her orgasm. With a few more careless thrusts, Jake finally climaxed. Y/N felt overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Her tears streaked her face as Jake’s body trembled with pleasure.

Y/N lay on the bed, panting and exhausted, while Jake’s hand reached out to caress her face and body. She felt a wave of satisfaction and contentment washing over her.

Jake smiled, watching Y/N’s body relax in a state of bliss. He took her hand and kissed it, savoring the moment.

Jake: "You’re mine, Y/N. And nothing can change that, not even death."

Y/N smiled, her heart filled with a sense of love and devotion. She knew she had been completely consumed by Jake’s desires, and she loved every moment of it.

It wasn’t long before Y/N fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion. Jake watched her. His mission had been simple: find and reap her life. What had happened inside him to lead to this moment was a mystery to him. But he would do whatever it took to keep Y/N by his side after her death—his perfect doll, his vessel of lust, his sole obsession.

This story is part of the universe of ' Divine Sins: Immortal Fantasies with ENHYPEN ' created by me.Description:Seven sensual and mysterious tales that delve into the desires between mortals and immortals. Inspired by the members of ENHYPEN, these stories reimagine the group as powerful gods and a fallen angel, all wickedly alluring and irresistibly seductive. Each narrative immerses readers in a world of fantasy, unveiling forbidden passions, divine secrets, and the overwhelming intensity that sparks between celestial beings and an ordinary human. A universe brimming with lust, mystery, and the captivating allure of the forbidden, where every story is an invitation to desire. Contains mature content.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[snackugaki-jestsjapesjokes]

ヤッホー ！！スナクがきついたよ！°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

でも 日本語が少し分かります

ngl my ass had to whip out my old dictionary because I doubt my reading level is a solid N5 when I don't practice as often as I should. also since japanese is my third language so idk, I'm gonna try ok

so! i do rag on and bully these poor turtles a lot but the kanji on them is very like.... gymbro style "fire", "dragon", "strength" type of tattooing or marking oneself. Which does fit considering Bay splinter taught them ninjutsu from a book he found while sweeping the sewers. To me, they're canonical ninjaboos (affectionate).

but usually it's like a motto or a mantra or an oath that's tattooed if ever but that's neither koko nor soko

_ _ _

starting with Leo's bandana

So yeah, confirmed for 息子, musuko. more or less. looks like 'musu' is missing a few strokes plus a few misplaced ones. anyway. looks like it was written on with a paint pen. i would think splinter wrote it because it just seems kinda weird for Leo to have written it himself. i don't have the linguistic perspective to describe why it seems weird to just have "son" on his mask. "blue son" would be less weird actually, "beloved son" would work. "upstanding son". but just "son" is like... idk man, ig, they replaced it with a bunch of staples in 2016 so moot

I cannnnnot get a clean shot of his shell kanji the only clear part is 子

three zero action figure of Out of the Shadows Leonardo

I got this from the figure but even zoomed in I can't make heads or tails of the first kanji, i feel like this puzzle is for someone whose first language is japanese

visually something about the top kanji makes me think about those "fonts" that arbitrarily assign kanji radicals to the english alphabet to "spell" things. at most it looks like whatever kanji it is it has the 勹 radical other than that? a mystery to me

_ _ _

now for Raph's 憤

which is an example of what I mean by gymbro-style "dragon" or "strength" tattoos in that 憤 is not exactly a word by itself, it's part of a word or I guess concept would be better? either way it's like writing "indig" instead of "indignation"

憤慨 fungai, is "indignation", technically it IS also "anger" in that when you resent someone you're also a little angry at them. Which considering... Raph does a lot of resenting, he resented being benched, he resented not being told about the purple ooze, he resented Leo for disregarding not only his but also Mikey's input.

i guess if you wanted to keep 憤 then 憤激 (fungeki) fury would work?

i think the funniest thing is the font choice for 憤 as it's written on his bandana because it's like a very official for-use-in-textbooks type of font. like the kind of font for government buildings or legal documents.

tried to find in-movie examples alas, three zero coming in clutch with the clearest details for at least the Out of the Shadows designs. but. looks like another chopping problem where there's 憤 and 怒 which together don't really make a word. although 怒 oko from 怒るokoru which is the "angry" you use when you say things like "I'm angry!" again, both kanji are written with the legal document font which: haha heehee

獣 confirmed though i'd go so far as to guess he meant for it be "brute" either way it hurts a little because the connotation is like "unthinking beast compared to thinking human", like the whole sort of "the difference between 'animal' and 'man' is like logic/reason/empathy whatever". especially since this is his 2014 design when he was accusing April of taking pictures of the freaks to show her friends

_ _ _

now for donnie's 明

i think this is another case of just putting in a piece of a word. 明 by itself is like the phenomenon of something being visually bright and the light we see but i'm guessing they were thinking of trying to put adjectives on them for in-jokey sort of design tells. in that case I would have opted for like 説明 setsumei (explanation) which.... explains itself ba dum tss or i guess on a more serious take 明確 meikaku (precise, clear, definite) which is bay Donnie with his habit of expressing the probability of something happening in percentages down to the like 8th decimal place

_ _ _

annnd Mikey's 仲

This one was a little frustrating as the most handwritten looking one. at one point I swore it looked like 5 TH but whether the top mark is a 5 or an S or even a 己 at a stretch. again it seems someone who might have a passing familiarity with how hanzi/kanji works possibly swiped a part because given 仲 I'd have went with 仲間 nakama yes like from One Piece, comrade, the kind you go up to bat for or fight a shark man with a chainsaw for a nose. hell 仲良し nakayoshi the shoujo manga magazine?! good friend/close friend, Mikey can be anyone's nakayoshi and if you're not careful to stay aloof Mikey will instantly consider you nakama.

hoo, yeah, those are my best guesses idk man

Okay nertles, I need Bayverse help on my little investigation and appreciation journey. Today I’m looking into the kanji on the turtle designs, please help me fill in the blanks and correct me!

Leonardo’s shell has a painted 子 for son, and also “ne” sign of the rat in the zodiac (which isn’t just interesting in the Splinter way, but in the way that the ninja turtles were first conceived of in 1983 but published in May of 1984, making the franchise’s “birth year” the year of the Rat). His bandanna tails either say 忍 子 patience and son or just son 息子

Raphael’s scarification on his right arm, bandanna, and shell are all the same, “憤”indignant/hate, but beneath it on his shell is “怒” which means to get angry (like ok, we get it), and his bandanna appears to say “beast” 獣.

Donatello’s bandanna tails have bright 明 on them.

And Michelangelo has this, and I can’t find anyone talking about this at all but it looks like poorly written kanji for naka, go-between/relationship “仲”, which would make so much sense with his being the heart of the group and most socially outgoing.

I’m so sure there’s more, pretty sure Mike and Don both also have shell paint but I can’t find good screens. Will update this as people add if they do.

[defectivevillain]

friends & fan clubs

pairings (separate): Atsumu/Reader; Hinata/Reader, Bokuto/Reader, Sakusa/Reader

the reader is masc-intended, since he plays on the same team as the guys. he/him pronouns are used; otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

summary: You're not the most popular member of the Black Jackals. Far from it, actually. You don't usually mind being neglected at the meet-and-greet events, but today you can't help but feel a bit disheartened.

Atsumu's snippet is the only one with explicit romance. Otherwise, these can be read as platonic or romantic!

Atsumu

"Atsumu's over there." You tell a fan, when she appears to look a little lost and awkward. She's lingering in front of your spot with a shifty look in her eyes, as if she's nervous.

"Okay." She eventually says after a moment. She averts her eyes. "I'm not here for him, though." She's planted firmly in front of your spot. Is she here to meet with you?!

"Oh!" You realize aloud. She must be here for you, then. That's... unusual. You're not accustomed to people choosing to approach you over Atsumu. "Cool. Um, feel free to take a seat, then." You offer.

There's an awkward silence for a few moments, before you break through it. "Sorry, I'm really not used to this." You admit.

"It's okay," she reassures you. "I just wanted to say that I love watching you play."

"Thanks." You say, slowly starting to get more confident as the conversation continues."Do you play at all?" You ask.

From there, your conversation continues for several more minutes, until your coach has to intervene and end the meet-and-greet event. The girl leaves you with a quick smile and a word of gratitude; you respond similarly and watch as she walks away, still feeling a little off-kilter. The other guys on the team are the ones who get attention; it's weird to be on the receiving end of it.

You eventually refocus your attention, only to find Atsumu standing where the fan was mere moments ago. "Oh, hey." You blink, wondering how he could've approached without you noticing.

"Hey," he responds. "Seems like you've got yer own fan club, huh?" Atsumu asks, raising a brow.

You huff. "Hardly," you wave off the remark. "Besides, a club needs more than one person." You point out lightly, a bit amused.

"I'll join your fan club," Atsumu offers.

"Shut up," you huff, embarrassed. "You're ridiculous." You roll your eyes. Atsumu pouts dramatically, and for a second, you can convince yourself that genuine hurt flashes across his face. But it's gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you convinced you imagined it.

And then it happens again—you get another fan. It's really strange. You definitely like it, though! It's nice to feel appreciated. You just can't help but feel like somewhat of an impostor, as you flounder through conversations with the social grace of a baby doe learning to walk.

When you finish up this conversation with a fan, you're surprised to find Atsumu making his way towards you again.

"Hey, did you hear the good news?" You ask jokingly, before he can speak. "I have a fan club now."

"Ah, nice," he says with a grin. The smile almost looks a bit tight, as if he's forcing it. You frown.

"You good?" You ask.

"Fine." Atsumu says, before murmuring something too quietly for you to hear.

You frown and lean closer. "What'd you say?"

"Nothing-!" He maintains. Before you can attempt to get the truth out of him, his brother is approaching the two of you.

"Hey," Osamu Miya greets you first, before turning to his brother. "'Tsumu. Makin' a fool of yourself again?"

"No." Atsumu asserts. His expression sours. "And hey, why'd you greet him first? I'm your brother."

"I see you all the damn time," Osamu says with a roll of his eyes.

"What brings you here?" You hum curiously, looking at Atsumu's brother.

"Ah, right," Osamu remembers. "Figured you'd want a post-game snack." He announces. You blink and suddenly he's giving you a takeout container of food.

"Oh," you say, surprised. You expected him to give something to his brother, not you. "Um. Thanks." You manage to remark.

"'Samu, what the hell?" Atsumu sputters, clearly wondering where his own food is.

There's a shit-eating grin on Osamu's face and you have no idea why. Atsumu looks furious, and his brother just walks away—sending a wave over his shoulder.

"What was that about?" You ask your teammate, a bit concerned by his reaction.

Atsumu growls, staring after his sibling with annoyance. "That bastard did that on purpose." He scowls. "I'll kill him, I swear."

"You want this?" You offer, holding the container out to him. Somehow, this is the wrong thing to say, because Atsumu only gets more irritated.

"No, that's-!" Atsumu chokes off, visibly upset. "Arghhh!" He storms off, leaving you to your confusion.

Osamu returns the moment Atsumu is out of view. It seems like he was eavesdropping. "Sorry about the sour mood he's gonna have," he huffs, looking at where his brother just disappeared to. "He's a fool." Osamu says with a shake of his head.

You just blink at him helplessly, unsure how to navigate the situation.

"Oh, right," Osamu recalls casually. He looks at you rather intently. "'Tsumu has feelings for you, ya know."

You stare at him in disbelief, looking for dishonesty or amusement on his face. But he seems entirely sincere.

"Give this to him, will ya?" Osamu then asks, as if he hadn't just shattered your entire world. You're sure your shock is showing on your face. "I was just messing around; I made something for him too." He hands you another takeout container of food. You manage to get your hands to take it, albeit with a delayed reaction.

Within seconds, Osamu's gone again. What the fuck? Does this guy have teleportation abilities or something? But no, if you squint, you can see him walking away. Osamu's just very... evasive, it seems.

You stare after him for a moment, before shaking your head and returning to the locker room. "Atsumu?" You ask, wandering around the room and holding the food containers.

"Go away."

Uh oh. He sounds like he's in one of his moods, just as Osamu predicted. You feel kind of guilty, despite having no idea what's going on. You wander through the space for a bit longer, before remembering the small lounge room in the corner. You tilt the door open.

"Atsumu," you greet him. "Your brother brought you some food."

"Just... put it down there." Atsumu says dejectedly. He doesn't sound like himself at all.

"I'm coming in," you announce, before opening the door fully and stepping in. You hand him the food container before crouching down to sit across from him.

The two of you eat in silence for a while, before you decide to take a chance. "Is this about your brother?" You ask your teammate. "He said he was messing with you."

"I know he was." Atsumu almost snarls. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you." He clarifies.

"It's okay," you reassure him. "Siblings are annoying, I get it."

"...But, um, Osamu told me something." You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Somehow, Atsumu looks even more upset now. Damn it, you just destroyed any of the progress you made. "He didn't." Atsumu says pleadingly. "Tell me he didn't."

"He did; he said you like me." You manage to say. Your heart is racing in your chest. You set your food container off to the side—the two of you finished eating several moments ago.

Atsumu groans and buries his head in his hands. "I wish I were an only child..." He mutters, clearly distressed. You're immediately worried by his uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"Hey, hey, don't panic," you say, moving closer to him. You try to get him to look at you, but he's keeping his face hidden. He must be really embarrassed—you've never seen him look so despondent. "I have no idea if it's even true. But, if it is... I'd be happy."

His head snaps up with surprising speed. "What?" Atsumu asks, studying your expression and searching your face. "What?" He exclaims.

"I have feelings for you." You admit. "I'm not sure if Osamu was telling the truth, but if he was, then you don't have to be embarrassed. And if he was lying, then I'm the only one who should feel embarrassed."

He's tugging you into a kiss the moment you finish speaking. You place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. His hands fall to your waist and he tugs you even closer, his touch sending heat up your spine.

"I can't believe this," Atsumu says when you break apart. He's looking at you with a mix of disbelief and adoration. Then he seems to come to a realization and he grimaces. "Osamu's gonna be insufferable."

"Probably," you sigh resignedly. "But, hey, we could pretend this never happened. Prank him or something."

"Nah," Atsumu says unexpectedly. He reaches for your hand and clasps it reassuringly. "I don't wanna pretend anymore." His thumb glides over your knuckles and you smile.

Hinata

"Hey, Hinata." You greet your teammate casually, bending down to begin taking off your volleyball shoes and gear. It's nice to be able to wind down, now that you're finally finished with that stupid meet-and-greet event.

"Hey!" Hinata says brightly. "How'd the meet and greet go?"

"Probably not as smoothly as usual, considering I was there instead of you." You admit with a huff, managing to get your shoes and kneepads off. Hinata's a lot more popular and likable than you are.

"Oh, come on," Hinata chastises. "I'm sure you did great!"

"Your relentless optimism is appreciated, Shoyo." You say with a resigned sigh, putting some sweatpants on and gathering your stuff together. Fortunately, today's match was a home game, so you can leave most of your equipment in your locker. Somehow, you end up being ready before Hinata is, leaving you to lean against one of the lockers next to his and wait for him.

"I'm just saying it how it is," he then says with a frown. He shrugs a hoodie on and gets to his feet. You realize you're standing a little close and take a step back to give him some space. "You're an awesome player!"

"Thanks." You say, a smile rising on your lips at the compliment. Hinata is super bubbly and positive, sure, but he won't say things he doesn't mean. His compliments are always earnest and genuine.

"Speaking of..." Hinata trails off, a devious smile on his face. You feel something lurch in your chest at the sight. "Wanna sign my volleyball?" He promptly grabs his bag and takes out his ball, holding it out to you.

"What?" You choke out, looking at the unmarked volleyball in his hands. "Why?" You look at him in confusion.

"I want your autograph, duh." Hinata responds easily.

"But no one else has signed the ball yet..." You remark, putting a hand on the ball and inspecting it in his grip.

"You'll be the first, then." He says with a bright smile. And gods, how can he just say those things? With those sparkling eyes of his? You avert your eyes, pretending not to be flustered.

"Okay." You agree, if only to get a reprieve from that adoring look in his eyes. Hinata smiles and grabs a pen for his bag, handing it to you. You uncap it and prepare to write something, only to pause. "Is this for your sister?" You clarify.

"Nope, all for me," Hinata grins unapologetically. Your skin feels like it's on fire. Has the air temperature gotten warmer all of a sudden? You resolutely focus on signing the ball, before acknowledging the remark.

"Shoyo, you're going to kill me one of these days," you sigh once you finish writing. Hinata just laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder and thanking you for the autograph.

...If you spend the rest of the day overanalyzing every bit of that encounter, then, well, no one else has to know.

Bokuto

You're one of the more inconspicuous players on the Black Jackals. Players like Atsumu and Bokuto—those with stand-out personalities and the good looks to match—often snap up all of the fans' attention. And normally, you wouldn't mind. But sitting at the meet-and-greet entirely neglected is a bit of a blow to your self-esteem.

You're a bit surprised, then, to notice that someone has moved to sit across from you. You look up, ready to greet the fan. But the greeting promptly dies in your throat. "Bokuto?" You say instead, staring at your teammate.

"Hey!" He greets you. He's energetic as always, practically buzzing in the chair. "I just wanted to say that I love you, like so much. Dude! Your playing! It's like... wow!" You stare at him for a moment in complete disbelief.

"Bokuto..." You then trail off quietly, embarrassed. Your shame and humiliation only seem to encourage him, as he promptly stares at you as if you're making his entire year by speaking to him.

"And your cut shot in the third set was so awesome!" He gushes, almost bouncing in his seat now. "I don't know how you bend your wrist like that, it's crazy!"

You just bring your head down to rest on the table, hiding in humiliation. His earnest praise is making you feel very flustered, for reasons you'd rather not elucidate.

"You're a piece of work." You tell him somewhat fondly, once the event is officially finished. Bokuto just lets out a hmph.

"Hey, that's no way to treat your number one fan!" He pouts, practically deflating before your eyes.

"I'm just kidding," you feel the need to clarify. It was a sweet gesture. "...Thanks. That was pretty cute, actually."

And he's back to normal again. He almost looks bashful. There's a light blush dusting his cheeks. Then he frowns in frustration. (Why is everything he does so adorable?!) "I just hate to see ya not getting the recognition you deserve." He says, sounding far too sincere. You blink in surprise, not expecting the comment.

"Oh," you say. "It's okay. I don't want a fan club or anything." It's true, you don't. You'd rather slip under the radar than hide a giant line of screaming fans like Atsumu always does.

"Well, you should have one anyways!" Bokuto insists passionately. "Hell, I'll be the president!"

"Thanks, Bokuto." You say sincerely. The memory of his eagerness and kind compliments stays in your mind for far longer than it should.

Sakusa

warnings: harassment (from a fan)

You don't typically do meet-and-greet events, because you don't quite know how to act. You're always a bit awkward—nothing like Atsumu or Bokuto, who can navigate even the weirdest of conversations with complete ease and skill. No, you've always been a bit too... reserved.

Normally, that suits you just fine. But now, as you find yourself trapped under this fan's uncomfortably intense gaze, you wish you were more assertive. She's been slowly moving closer to you throughout the conversation, leaving you to lean back until you're practically molding against the back of your chair.

She's asking you rather strange questions, too. You feel your fists clench at your sides as you try to keep yourself grounded. You want to tell her off, or make her get away, but your tongue feels locked to the roof of your mouth. Your surroundings are blurring and everything just feels hopeless, as the conversation just drags and drags-

"You're making him uncomfortable." A familiar voice says, cold and blunt.

The fan shrinks back, enforcing some distance between you both again. You can't quite hide your relief as you glance at Sakusa, who's looking particularly irritated. At least, you think he looks irritated—he has his face mask on, so you can only see the slight furrow to his brows.

Under Sakusa's watchful gaze, the fan clearly grows intimidated and eventually departs. You can't quite hide your gratitude as you glance over at your teammate.

"I see why you don't do these events." Sakusa acknowledges, something like distaste evident in his expression.

"Yeah," is the most you can get yourself to say, still reeling and a bit frustrated with yourself for not speaking up. You stare down at your trembling hands and frown.

Sakusa just scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Clean your hands." He suggests.

"Okay." You agree after a moment, if only to see the surprise flicker across his face at how easily you give in. You reach across the table and take a healthy dose of hand sanitizer, cleaning your hands. "Let's head back." You suggest.

The two of you start walking back to the locker room. It's entirely silent, before you eventually gather the courage to speak. "Thanks," you say. "For, y'know..." You break off, hoping he'll understand what you're implying.

"Speak up if it happens again." Sakusa says, in lieu of a response to your gratitude. "Tell them to back off." He continues, looking at you pointedly.

"I know I should," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I just kind of... lock up. I always freeze."

Sakusa shakes his head disapprovingly. "You need to assert your boundaries, or they'll trample all over them." He says, a stormy expression on his face.

The two of you walk in a slightly more tense silence for a few moments. Then Sakusa does something so uncharacteristic you nearly freeze in place: he puts an arm around your shoulder. It's a light gesture, barely even tangible. You somehow manage to convince yourself to keep walking, despite immediately wondering what has gotten into Sakusa. He must be sick or something. He's never tactile like this.

When you reach the locker room, his arm falls away and he stares at you hard enough to melt your skin off. Eventually, you can't pretend to ignore him any longer—and you look over at him expectantly.

"That was a test." Sakusa explains. His hands are in his pockets again. "And you failed." He frowns.

"A test?" You question. You suppose that makes far more sense than anything else. "I was supposed to push you away?" You ask.

Sakusa nods.

"I didn't need to," you say before you can stop yourself. You didn't mean to say that aloud.

"Why not?" Sakusa questions, clearly disbelieving.

"Because it's you," you respond. "I wasn't uncomfortable." You trust Sakusa enough to know he would never have untoward intentions. The gesture was merely friendly—hell, it was hardly even friendly. He was treating it as a test, so there was barely anything behind it.

This time it's Sakusa's turn to be surprised. You can barely see the emotion—just a slight raise to his brows and a widening of the eyes. But it's clear he didn't expect you to say that.

Eventually, Sakusa just sighs. "You're hopeless." He huffs. Your teammate sounds almost fond—and for once, you think you're not just imagining it.

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[faejilly]

regret

so. literally seven years ago, I started a 'series of firsts' style fluff-fic(let collection) for Malec/Shadowhunters... and I think part of why I got stuck on it in particular (even beyond the not writing much for the last couple years) is because it is in fact supposed to be in chronological order following the show and I had hit a point where I needed a... not!fluff chapter, and I kept trying to just... skip the sad and write more fluff for the fluff fic.

But I'm writing a vignette series for a melodrama. So. Melodrama has been written, of Alec Lightwood Overthinking Things but not being wrong, so how is he supposed to stop? (This takes place after s2e12, which is the disaster of a body swap episode, for anyone not so obsessed with the show as to know that off the top of their heads)

It is not the first time Alec has known that he’s not good enough for Magnus. He’s always known that, since the first time he laid eyes on him.

It is the first time that he thinks Magnus might agree with him.

Magnus said he wanted some space. Tonight (just tonight implied but not stated by the softness of his voice, the brush of his fingers against the seam of Alec’s sleeve) Magnus wanted some quiet.

So Alec left Magnus alone, and now he’s standing in his institute bathroom staring into the institute mirror gripping the white porcelain edges of an institute sink, trying to decide if that was right.

He doesn’t think it was, but he’s not sure if it’s the space that’s wrong, or the just for tonight.

He knows which he wants it to be, but that’s irrelevant.

Magnus likes to retreat when he’s hurt, but that doesn’t mean that’s good for him; Alec might not have known Magnus for long, but he recognizes a protective flinch when he sees it. And if that’s the case, then Alec should in fact head right back out and refuse to let Magnus hide and hold him tight until Magnus feels like he's himself again.

But Alec didn’t believe what Magnus said too many times already, he can’t…

He can’t go against Magnus’ request, not now that he finally made one. Always letting Alec set the pace, waiting for Alec to reach out, for Alec to act, to ask, and when he finally lets himself say what he wants?

It’s less of Alec, rather than more.

Smart of him, of course. Alec would never blame him for it, especially not after Azazel and Valentine and Alec failing him in every way it was possible to fail. There has always been a disparity between what Magnus deserves and what Alec is capable of offering; perhaps it is too large of one to ever be overcome.

Only he knows he wants to keep trying.

He also knows that staring at his mirror and overthinking things is his own protective flinch.

Magnus said he doesn’t know what he needs. Alec is mostly sure that’s true, that if Magnus knew that Alec caused more harm than could possibly be worth it he would say so — but only mostly. Magnus has been abandoned too many times to be the person leaving unless he’s sure.

Not even then, perhaps.

Alec has some idea of how many times Magnus forgave Camille, and she was cruel on purpose, unlike Alec who keeps twisting the knife entirely by accident.

If Magnus won’t do it, Alec will have to. He refuses to walk Magnus down a road to hell paved by his own so-called “good intentions”. He’ll stay away forever if that’s better for Magnus, regardless of how Alec feels about it, will feel about it, will always feel about Magnus. It’s only right, not letting Magnus suffer the consequences of trying to be involved with–

Alec stops himself there.

Anything he thinks to call himself, any self-assessment he can manage right now, will be more severe than anything Magnus would think, or say, or even accept if Alec tried to say it, so it won’t help him decide what to do.

He has to figure out how to help in a way that Magnus will accept, and if he leads with a list of all his failures, Magnus will be happy to try and make Alec feel better and aggressively avoid letting Alec try to help him.

Alec doesn’t need to feel better. Aldertree’s gone, Isabelle’s back, (Imogen’s difficult but familiar), and Jace is, while still fucked up, at least not trying to smother the parabatai bond so tightly that Alec feels like he’s being strangled in his sleep every night.

So.

Alec sighs, lets go of the sink, forces his shoulders to relax.

This is the first time that Magnus has said he needs space, but considering the politics of their lives, even now that Valentine’s in custody (especially now, considering everything Herondale did to Magnus in Valentine’s name), it probably won’t be the last.

Alec can’t override that, not just because he’s sad and guilty and young and stupid.

He just has to learn better.

He’s always had to be better than he is, he’s not sure why he thought things with Magnus might be different.

That’s not Magnus’ fault though, and he can’t let himself start to think about it in terms of hopes dashed or desires failed because then he will be upset at the only person who has never ever let him down, despite all Alec’s failures and stumbles.

He doesn’t deserve Magnus, of course he doesn’t, but that’s all right. It’s Magnus’ turn to make a choice, and he can have all the time and space he needs to do so.

Alec will wait.

He’ll wait forever, if he has to.

He’ll wait past forever, this life and the next; he’s already made his choice.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 122 (The Elusive Rafa Bonilla)

"Conrad? Conrad wake up! Oh man, I'm so sorry, please wake up..."

Slowly, Conrad's eyes adjusted to the torchlit room, which smelled like seawater and wet wood. Coarse grains of sand scratched against the back of his head. His blurred vision subsided as he blinked dust from his eyelashes. Rafa knelt over him pleadingly, gently lifting his head. "Wh-where am I?"

"Inside the abandoned ship. I brought you down here when I realized it's really you. I've been waiting for you to wake up for a while."

"How long was I out?"

Rafa shrugged. "The sun will be up soon."

Conrad struggled to push himself up and Rafa reached out a hand to help him. "I need to call Heather."

Rafa nodded. "Your phone rang a bunch of times," he admitted. "I turned it off after a while."

The place was half full of sand and the wood beams were falling apart. He looked at Rafa, all grown up, instinctively leaning in for a hug. Even though he'd knocked him out and was a lot bigger than the boy he remembered, Conrad couldn't believe he killed the Brindletons.

"Why are you out here?"

"I don't have to pay rent, and if anyone comes around to play on the old mast, I padlock the door or hide out in the caves."

"When was the last time you checked in to work?"

"Couple days ago. I tried to get in to the villa but I couldn't. Figured maybe the old man and his wife had gone home and no one told me."

Conrad frowned. "Oliana Ngata said you have a key. You didn't go inside? Take your shoes off, find George, maybe step in the blood under June Brindleton's bed, then clean yourself off in the master bathroom and run?"

Rafa tried to protest, but the look in his eyes told Conrad he was on the right track. It was the same guilty look he used to give when he tried to say his homework was done because he just wanted to play video games.

"I didn't kill them, I swear, and those aren't my footprints. I saw a couple guys jump off the villa balcony and swim off, but I didn't see which way they went. I found the Brindletons dead and got scared. I've been ignoring Oliana's calls for days. She owes me a week's pay, but she can keep it. I'll figure it out, but I'm not going down for murder. I never killed anyone."

"The other stuff you've been into isn't great, Rafa. San Myshuno PD would love to toss the book at you just to close the cases they've got with your name on them."

"I know that. I don't want to go to prison. I never wanted to run any of the drugs I ran, and I didn't start that fire. Jimmy's a pyro freak and I tried to put it out. Cops said I was fanning the flames but that's crap, Conrad. I swear."

"Jimmy's dead, Rafa."

The young man's face fell. "How?"

"I think your sister ordered the hit to get my attention. I've been looking for you for years."

"To bring me in?"

"Look...you knew me before I was a cop, and I don't want to bring you in, but I've got a family and Ximena's trying to take me down. We finally got her in handcuffs and behind bars, but we need to prove she was involved in Jimmy's murder or she could walk. Right now all we've got her on is rental fraud, but you might be able to plead down your own sentence if you're willing to give intel on Ximena."

"I don't know anything about Jimmy's death." Rafa scoffed. "I don't want to talk to my sister, but you know what she did for me, getting us out of Selva when she did."

"And then what? She dragged you into a life working for the cartel, anyway. You could give her stories away, Rafa. Separate her from the cartel, paint her for who she is and what she dragged you into. Forget Jimmy's murder for a minute. Let them see your involvement in your own crimes was under pressure from your sister."

"I always wanted to get out, but Ximena needed me."

"She doesn't need you now."

"If I turn on her, she'll turn on me. I don't know what you want me to do, but I just want to live in peace out here. I want to turn this place into a cool SimBnB or something. Renovate it, you know? Maybe I could have more than one, eventually. I just want to live out my life far away from any cartels. Far away from Ximena. If I go back, I'll go to prison just like her."

"Rafa, I'll do anything I can to help you stay out of prison whether you help me or not. I'll talk to lawyers, judges, find you the right advice. I can't promise a plea deal without jail time, but I can try."

Rafa shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, I can't help you. Ximena was always there for me, and you left! As Javier Vargas, I could recognize the guys in a lineup if you find suspects for the Brindletons' murder, but I can't bring down my sister. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I left. I had to, but you're the closest thing to a little brother I'd ever had. It was a lot harder to leave you than it was to leave her." Conrad frowned, shifting a little on his feet. "You're really staying here? In an old shipwreck?"

"I miss electricity and haven't played a video game in years, but this is a good place to hide out. It's not open to the public because it's not structurally sound, but no one ever comes down here. If I can get the place fixed up enough for a rental, it'll be much better. A lot less sand."

"And you're not worried I'll send police to arrest you?"

"You'd have me arrested because I won't help you?"

"It's not just me she's after, Rafa. Heather and I are getting married, and we have a daughter; she's almost three. And I love Heather's son like he's my own. He's the same age now that you were when I met you, but I've known him so long...you and Melissa were still together when I met him."

"Don't talk about Mel. She's not involved in any of this. She never was, and she's better off without me."

Conrad's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday. "Got any food?" he wondered, as much for himself as he was worried about Rafa.

The young man pointed him in the direction of his small, off-grid kitchen. "There's enough ice in the icebox to keep a few things cool. You can have some yogurt if you want."

Conrad took him up on the offer and considered his next move while he devoured a bowl of coconut yogurt and looked around the dismal digs. Rafa had a bed, a table, the tiny kitchen, and a hole in the ground for a bathroom. He was living far worse than Conrad ever did in his dated old apartment in the city.

Rafa might be Ximena's sole weak point and he had to exploit it, but Conrad wouldn't be able to live with himself if he exploited Rafa, too. He needed him to want to help, but had no idea how to change his mind.

He turned his phone back on and the device started beeping with notifications - multiple missed calls, texts, and voicemails. He sighed. The best he could do for now was keep Rafa's secret and hope he'd flip. He had to fly back to the mainland...after his impulsive neatness made him clean up a bit of dirt and sand near the small kitchen sink - which didn't even dispense water.

Conrad needed to check in with Heather and with work, and open a new investigation into the death of George and June Brindleton. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF: Conrad on the floor and Rafa bent over him is another from @yibsimchronicles' Fainted posepack, and probably my favourite pose in the collection!